#ill reply to you as soon as i get out of this hole. by hole i mean metal hole of doom i feel trapped in during exam season.

[starboye]

pairing: rafe cameron x male reader

summary: rafe fucking ex reader but could there be something deeper

warnings: smut, cheating, cursing, slight degradation, slight daddy kink, lil angst

rafe was one of your worst exes, he was a total dick, manipulative, crazy, and a gaslighter to the max so you broke up with him and dated your beloved john b and he was way better, he was nice, full of life, and cared for you but there was something so addictive about rafe, maybe it was the way he could make you cum in seconds and the sex was amazing unlike john b who couldnt satisfy you in that way, the sex was more lack luster but you knew he meant well.

thats where right now led you, fucking yourself with your fingers in bed watching some trash porn but it wasnt enough and after doing this for about an hour you were tired, that was until your phone dinged with a notification and you couldnt believe it, it was from rafe "hey there beautiful" the text read "what do you want rafe" you quickly typed back "just wanna see how your little life is going" rafe replies and you could feel the smugness through the screen.

"thats none of your business" you reply "well hows thats dating john b thing going" rafe texts trying to rile you up "better than out relationship ever was" you text "does he fuck you the way i do" you read the text and immediately were stunned "whatever" you text "no tell me does he get all those good spots in you or do you have to finger yourself every night to get off" rafe texts "no" you reply "ill be there in 10 make sure to put on those cute underwear i like" rafe texts before hes grabbing his keys and heading over to your house.

you couldnt believe this, rafe coming over to your house to fuck you, but you could never cheat on john b like that plus you live him to much,but then again one little fucking from rafe wouldnt be that bad... right, no you werent gonna do it, you pick up your phone to text rafe not to cu- i mean come over but when you go to type it your fingers freeze not being able to do it and soon you hear rafe pull into your drive way.

you walk to the door to stop him from coming in but as soon as you open it you see rafe standing there with that stupid smug face he always has "can i come in" rafe asks with a smirk and just as youre about to deny him you trip over your words and are unable to stop him "look at you so needy" rafe says picking you up and resting your ass in his hands as he takes you too your room.

he drops you on you bed and undresses himself, his abs flexing as he does so making you even more dumb "you gonna take your stuff off or do i need to do that too" rafe says in a slightly annoyed tone but you comply and quickly take off your clothes, rafe walks up to you and pulls your legs to get you closer to him, wrapping them around his waist "you barely feel like you've had sex" rafe scoffs prodding at your hole.

you look at him with a hateful look but deep down you missed rafe, the way he would love you was unmatched, he'd buy you anything your heart desired and showered you with love, although he did some fucked up shit you knew he was a good guy deep down it was just ward that fucked him up.

"you want me to fuck you right" rafe asks and you nod shyly "you know to use your words" rafe demands "yes please fuck me" you plea locking your ankles together around rafe "okay then" rafe says before sliding into you with ease "its like i never left" rafe says starting to thrust into you "and how would john b feel about the kook he hates so much fucking his sweet boyfriend" rafe smirks grabbing your chin to force you to look him in the eyes.

"shut up you dick" you snarls "'thats' rich coming from the slut cheater" rafe replies tilting his head to the side "just- fuck... just fuck me" you say broken by moans "you know you love this cock" rafe says "it makes you feel so good and it can rub all the right spots" he continues "fuck you" you spit out "you're already doing that" rafe laughs.

you lean up to give rafe a mean look "what cant handle me" rafe says flashing a cheesy smile before leaning down to leave some hickeys on your neck "wait rafe no" you yell trying to push rafe off but you couldn't and he leaves a couple hickeys across your neck "what the fuck" you say in disbelief "now who does this hole belong to" rafe asks roughly gripping his hands into your thighs "shut up di-" and before you could finish the sentence rafe pounds into you make you moan "wrong answer" rafe says.

"now who does this belong to" rafe asks again "rafe please" you say trying to slow him down "c'mon y/n i know you know the answer" rafe grins devilishly "its all yours" you huff rolling your eyes "don't you fucking dare roll your eyes at me" rafe says smacking your ass harshly "yes daddy" you moan out before cumming on your chest "look at that, cumming untouched, i didn't think i was that good" rafe laughs at your fucked out state.

"you want it in you" rafe asks as you feel his thrusts get a little slower, rafe wanting to edge himself in your amazing hole "yes rafe i want it so much" you whimper in that voice that rafe could never resist, he'd do anything to hear that voice every morning, and with that he cums without a thought in his mind, you tightening around him to get every drop of that delicious cum making his mind become even more hazy.

"if you need me again you know my number" rafe says pulling out of you and putting on his clothes "fuck you" you say scooting further onto the bed "yeah fuck you too kid" rafe says walking out of your room and you hear him close the front door and start up his truck, you run to the window to see him off and catch him looking at your bedroom window and as soon as your eyes meet his he pulls out your driveway.

you feel asleep that night feeling guilty but well filled, you wanted to get back with rafe but should you really risk the chance of a repeating argument, rafe pushing you away because hes hurt and you walking away from him but somehow you always end up back in his bed wrapped in his arms and him telling you how he wants to grow old with you and you believe it every time thinking this time could be different but it never is, maybe you guys are better apart than together.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m

[strawberrywonz]

Your mine, aren't you?

🧸 :: Genre : Yandere Jungwon x AFAB Reader

PS: Reader uses she/her pronouns !

Wrd count ? : 858 wrds (shorter than i wanted it to be but this was kind of rushed because of my studies ! 😞)

>< :: Contains : Manipulation (Jungwon manipulates reader to beg for his cock even though she says its not gonna fit) , Obsessive behavior towards reader at the end and readers also obsessed with jungwon , Jungwon is rude but is really really inlove with reader , Jungwon refers to reader as little girl , name calling : stupid , silly , and gets compared to a whore but only once , Jungwon calls reader filthy and nasty , Jungwon kidnapped reader , THIS CONTAINS SMUT

🧋:: Smut warnings : Really rough sex , Breeding kink , Jungwon is huge and reader is small , Jungwon has a big dick , size kink , pussy slapping , Jungwon spits in readers mouth and on her cunt , cunnilingus , cream pie , squirting , Overstimulation , Jungwon calls reader little girl more than once , lmk if I missed anything else !

🤍 :: Now playing : Step on me - TheCardigans

Monday morning. Light shining down in your eyes and you're boyfriend's sleeping figure, Jungwon. You sit up and lightly shake him awake not wanting to anger him as soon as he wakes up.

"Jungwon? Wake up please" You say lightly, but he doesn't budge instead he stays asleep. "Jungwon please wake up" you start to tear up, a single tear falling from your eye and onto his soft cheek. He stirs in his sleep feeling the wetness pour onto his cheek feeling a little disturbed, he opens his eyes to see you crying.

"What are you crying for now little girl? Its not even 9:00 in the morning. Stupid silly little girl" he says wiping the wetness you created on his face away. "I-im not stupid!" you immediately reply back almost screaming at him pushing his shoulder a little,"Getting bold now aren't we little girl? Huh you wan' act so big and tough?". He fires back looking you dead into your eyes, you stare back as he leans forward into you. He grips your face and leans into your ear, "Remember little girl you're mine. Ill do anything I please to your little body." He says out to you, your frozen stuck in that posture not knowing what to say to him.

As he leans closer into your small figure he grips onto your neck, his long veiny fingers gripping onto your neck so he restricts some air from your body. He tilts your head back, "Open your mouth and stick your tongue out little girl.", you oblige and do what he says, sticking out your tongue and opening your mouth. "Fucking filthy" he whispers with a shit eating grin on his face, finally he gathers a wad of spit from his mouth and spits it into your mouth. "Fucking nasty, you like it huh? Being so fucking nasty for me? Yeah?" You grip onto his biceps through his shirt.

"M'not filthy!" you sputter back to him. "Yeah, you're not? Then why are you sticking your tongue out like a whore eager to feel my spit go down your throat huh?" He says pushing you down onto your back so you're laying down. He snakes his hand down to your cunt n you're practically dripping, "You're not filthy? You're s'wet only from me spitting in your mouth"

He rubs your clit from outside your pink little underwear, smirking when you squirm and whine. He slides your panties to the side and lowers his head spitting on your cunt, and sliding one of his fingers into your tight little pussy. "J-jungwon! Ngh i-it feels good!" You moan out your cunt squeezing around his fingers as he adds another digit inside of your hole. "It feels good? Yeah little girl?" he asks you, you immediately shake your head as he smacks ur cunt and after he gives it two smacks and as soon as your about to release he abruptly stops and manhandles you into doggy style. "J-jungwon s'not gonna fit!" You whine out feeling his mushroom tip of his thick and long dick running up against your entrance and also at your loss of orgasm.

"S'not gonna fit? I'll make it fit." he says pushing his mushroom tip inside of your tight little hole. "You want it little girl? Beg for it." And that's exactly what you do. You beg and whine until he stops you in the middle of your whining and fully slams hist thick cock inside of you, "Jung-won!". You stutter out his name, the feeling of the tip of his cock hitting your cervix has you crying. Feeling so good that you cum within seconds. "Already cumming little girl? I thought you could last a l-little longer." He says his hips stuttering you could tell that hes close too, but the overstimulation has you reaching your hands back and pushing his hips back. "Stop running from my dick n'jus take it little girl." he ruts into you pulling you back to your spot and continues to ram into you, finally his load fills your cunt and your thighs are shaking.

"Little girl wants to talk big and tough until she gets fucked dumb. Look at you so small and fragile cant even handle my cock." he chuckles out still ramming inside of you but he stops after a minute feeling himself get overstimulated, but as soon as he's about to pull out you squirt all over his bottom half soaking him. "Fuck little girl, you're squirting on my dick?" he goes to pull out but you hold him tight. "Please d-dont pull out..I want to stay next to you.." "Yeah you want to stay next to me? Even though i kidnapped you? Held you here against your will? Fuck you even tried to escape last Friday." he chuckles.

"Please don't let go.." You whisper. He looks at you then he wraps his arms around your small torso.

Next time you wont ever leave not when you can stay with him.

And next time, he wont be so friendly about you trying to escape after all your his right? You'll stay with him forever.

[drabblesandimagines]

Home

Leon Kennedy x female reader I just wanted to write some damsel in distress nonsense with Death Island Leon, but imagine whoever you like! Fluff - though mentions of blood, smatter of death.

Coming to, you feel as if you’re hungover - disorientated, nauseous and a sore head - but that can’t be right, you didn’t drink last night.

It takes a moment to localize the throbbing pain only to the side of your head rather than all over and, as you catch sight of blood smeared against the white tiles of the kitchen floor – something you were desperate to change as white shows up everything­ - you remember.

You’d been working in the home office. Leon had set it up for himself originally – you’d never been brave enough to research what the price of the beautiful mahogany desk must’ve been, but you’re always sure to use a coaster to avoid marking it. He used a laptop, so he’d insisted you utilize the space instead for your desktop when you moved in over a year ago. It was a nice house, on a quiet, suburban street – he’d bought it as a fixer-upper, a bit of a passion project. The rooms were all in various states of completion but he wanted your opinion and input.

“This is our home,” he’d stressed, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Plus, you’ll be here more than me…”

You’d heard of the conspiracy theories surrounding the Raccoon City incident. Who hadn’t stumbled down that rabbit hole before? Leon had confirmed it in vague, half-told recollections of the night a few months into your relationship after an argument about his commitment issues, and you hadn’t pressed further than that since. He told you the bare minimum so you were aware of what his work now entailed, why he had to go away for weeks at a time, why he was so desperate to keep his work and personal life separate for your safety and protection.

He accompanied you when he could to family and friends’ celebrations, charmed them all into forgiving him for his flaky appearances, but they could all see how happy you were since the two of you had got together.  

You’d been wearing noise-cancelling headphones as you worked to drown out the next door neighbour’s relentless building works that had started on Monday – a basement leak meant the foundations were being fixed and the noise was horrendous - and had gone to the kitchen to make an ill-advised afternoon coffee and…

Nothing.

Well, the building works have stopped which is a positive, but that doesn’t negate the blood on the floor and your thudding head.

“Mrs Kennedy, I presume.” A man, well-dressed in an awful tight-fitting suit kneels down in front of you. He doesn’t look familiar - blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, a bit of stubble, looking tired, mid-40s, you guessed. You’re confused by the way he’s addressed you – you’re not married, there’s no ring there - and he clocks the bemused expression at once. “Or perhaps you’re his whore, waiting for him to return to your little love nest, hm?”

There’s no good answer or witty comeback so you keep silent, instead trying to raise your hand to feel your head, gage how bad it is – head wounds bleed a lot, you knew that much – but your arm doesn’t comply. Your gaze finds the plastic of the zip-tie cutting into your wrist, holding it snugly against the arm of the chair you’re now seated in - dragged in from the dining room.

“Ah, yes.” He cups your chin, tilting your face back towards him in an effort to get you to focus on him. “A necessary measure. I need you to play the damsel in distress.”

“Leon’s not here,” you reply, quietly, words feeling thick on your tongue though it’s not a lie. “He’s away with work - I don’t know when he’s going to be back.”

“Oh, he’s due home very soon. I couldn’t make such a pretty thing wait for days on end.” He lets go of your chin only to place his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You try to jerk away from his touch but find your ankles have received the same treatment as your wrists, though tethered together as if to stop you standing.

“I apologize about your head,” he stands up then, a smug look on his face as he towers over you. “I did tell my men to be gentle, but it appears one misunderstood.”

You shuffle in the chair in a pitiful attempt of relieving the pressure on your wrists. “Who are you?”

He clucks his tongue. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Kennedy’s ETA is four minutes, sir.” A gruff voice states from behind you.

“Excellent.” Your captor smiles. “I suppose he was hoping to surprise you with his arrival, hm? Nice that we can turn the surprise around on him.” He snaps his fingers at one of his subordinates, “You can gag her now.”

A hand yanks your hair, forcing your head back and you gasp only for a wad of fabric to be stuffed behind your teeth. You try and push it out with your tongue on instinct but another bit of fabric is forced between your lips, keeping it snugly in place as it’s knotted at the back of your head, causing you to whimper – or at least attempt - when he brushes up against your head wound.

There’s a hive of activity around you – the three grunts getting into position, checking their ammo. They can’t just plan to shoot Leon outright, surely. Why would he need a damsel otherwise? Your captor grabs the back of your chair and drags it, positioning it in line with the hallway door, meaning that you will be the first thing he sees. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes.

“Showtime.”

Your heart is pounding so loud it’s all you can now hear – maybe it’s so loud Leon will hear with that incredibly sensitive hearing he has before he opens the door, know something’s wrong and get the hell out of here.

No such luck, though. The building work next door hasn’t resumed, so you can hear him cut the engine in the driveway, hear when the Jeep door opens and closes, hear the jingle of his keys in the door. He has his eyes cast down when he enters, immediately turning to the lock the door behind him out of both security and habit.

“Sweetpea?” He sounds upbeat, happy as he calls for you and it breaks your heart all the more when he turns, eyes meeting yours. “Fuck.” He breathes out, taking a hurried step forward, hand automatically reaching for his pistol still holstered on his belt. A loud click pierces through your left ear, cold metal prods into the side of your temple and Leon freezes in place.

“Uh-uh, Kennedy. Unless you wanna see your lovely lady’s brains splattered all over the floor, I’d drop that right now.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, holding his hands above his head and dropping the pistol to the ground, hitting the wooden floorboards with a thunk.

“Keep those hands up and kick it over.”

Leon complies, kicking the pistol so it skids down the hallway, swiftly collected by one of the grunts.

“Dante.”

“Oh, I’m flattered you remember little ol’ me. Come - join us.” The gun leaves your temple but the fear remains as Leon slowly strides up the hallway, hands still in the air. “Pull Kennedy up a chair and make sure he’s comfortable.” A grunt ducks into the dining room and emerges with one the armless chairs, placing it down heavily on the kitchen tile as Leon enters. He’s swiftly smacked across the face with the butt of a gun, followed up by a punch to the stomach, causing him to double over. Another grunt grabs his arms, yanking them behind his back and you know by the way his biceps tense that he could break out of that hold easily enough, but he’s choosing not to.

You feel horrible that you’re the reason why he’s not.

He’s pushed down onto the chair and his wrists are quickly secured behind his back with a zip tie through the wooden slats. He lifts his head up to reveal a bloodied lip, but his eyes are immediately on you as he speaks.

“She has nothing to do with me and you, Dante.”

“Oh, I know that.” He scoffs, digging his fingernails into your shoulder once more. “But your little sweetpea is so useful in making sure that you remain on your very best behaviour.”

“You’ve got me now, okay?” Leon shrugs his shoulders in demonstration. “Let her go.”

“Aw,” Dante tuts. “Did you think you had her out of harm’s way, Kennedy? Kept your personal life underwraps? Granted I couldn’t quite confirm her name, but here we are all the same. Pretty little thing – shame she had to get wrapped up with you.”

“What do you want?” You can tell Leon’s annoyed, though he keeps his voice measured.

“The Apollo files.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, scoffing. “I don’t ha- Ugh!” The grunt in front of him had pistol-whipped him once more, his nose now bleeding a little in consequence.

“Next time you tell a lie, your woman is going to get the same treatment.” You grip the armrests in apprehension and Leon once again tenses as he notes your discomfort.

“Okay, okay! They’re in the attic. One of the storage boxes up there – there’s not many. Against the south wall.”

“Good boy.” Dante chuckles, ruffling his hand through the agent’s hair condescendingly. “You two - with me,” he points at two of his men, before turning to the third. “You, keep an eye on the lovebirds.”

“Be careful where you step up there – I haven’t put in a permanent floor. Been busy.” Leon retorts.

“Aw, boys, he’s worried we’ll hurt ourselves.” He grabs Leon by the chin then, squeezing his cheeks. “We’ll be right back. I wouldn’t want to keep this lovely lady waiting any more than she has to.”

He shoves Leon’s face to the side and heads out to the hallway, the two grunts following as the third remains in position to the side, gun in hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetpea, but I’ll get you out of this – I swear.“ Leon says softly, turning his head to the side to look at you. “Okay?”

You nod – there’s little else you can do – but you know you’re shaking. You hate yourself for doubting him, but you can’t see how the two of you are getting out of this in one piece. He doesn’t say anything more, his eyes flitting from one direction to another as he calculates his moves for what feels like hours.

The building work next door resumes – a loud drilling echoing around the kitchen. The grunt winces at the sound and Leon gets to his feet, arms still bound around the dining chair and headbutts him, sending him stumbling back, blood gushing from a broken nose. Leon spins then, slamming the chair against the marble countertops, splintering the wood and releasing himself from the chair. He then jumps again, tucking his legs impressively close to his chin, though letting out a strangled grunt and his bound hands are now in front of him. He lifts up his knee, tenses his biceps and slams it down, the zip-tie splintering across the floor – all in the time it takes the grunt to come to his senses and aims his gun blindly, sending bullets thankfully in every direction but yours.

Leon ducks and dives, swiftly grabbing the grunt around the neck with an arm and holding it tight, cutting off his air supply until he goes limp in his arms and he grabs hold of the man’s gun, quickly checking the cartridge with one smooth downward motion.

A bullet sails over his shoulder as one of the grunts returns from upstairs and Leon quickly takes him out with a headshot. You divert your eyes then, not wanting to see. It’s them or you – you know that – but it doesn’t make the act easier to witness.

It is barely a second before another gunshot rings out, followed by a second - Dante and the remaining man at the kitchen doorway, though the grunt goes down as quickly as he entered due to Leon’s return fire.

Dante’s face is furious, his gun aimed squarely at your head and he pulls the trigger. Leon sidesweeps the chair legs from under you, sending the chair toppling backwards and you with it, your head smacking once more against the tile and making your ears ring and vision dance with black. The bullet soars over your head and into the kitchen cabinet.

There’s another gunshot, a horrible, squelching sound, and then a series of grunts and groans – flesh on flesh – but you can’t look up, can’t see what’s going on as a succession of gunshots ring out and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor.

There’s the clatter of a drawer being opened frantically and then, suddenly, Leon is above you – his shoulder bloody – and a knife in his hand. He lifts your head up gently, cutting through the back of the gag and pulls it away from your mouth, fishing out the fabric that had been making you feel close to choking.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He says softly as you catch your breath, taking glorious mouthfuls of air. “Stay still, okay? I’ll get these off you.” He presses the blade against your wrist with a careful flick and you’re released from the first of your restraints. He makes quick work of your other wrist and the ones around your ankles, pulling you up into his arms, cradling you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, rocking you back and forth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Leon, it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay. It’s not okay. I promised to never get you mixed up in this. I don’t know how they found this place, how they found you. I’ve been so fucking careful, baby.” His voice breaks, along with your heart.

“I know you have.” You try and soothe. “It’s not fair, but it’s not your fault, sweetheart. I love you.”

He presses his lips to yours then, kissing you softly. “Love you too – so much. Feel so selfish.”

“Uh-uh, no – you deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

“You do, sweetpea, but-“

“If I can’t say it’s okay, you can’t go down this road either and we both can’t pout about it.”

He sniffs, rolls his eyes and you finally remember the blood patch on his shoulder.

“Did you get shot?” He shakes his head. “Grazed me. I’m fine. You, however, need a full check-up.”

“If I’m having one, you’re having one too. We can have a date to the emergency room.”

He laughs – it’s nice to hear, to see the smile reaching his eyes. “I owe you a much better date than that.”

“Nah – maybe they’ll put you in a hospital gown.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You bite your lip.

“The ones that don’t tie at the back?”

“Oh, don’t they? Interesting.”

He kisses you again then, with a bit more passion than before. “Baby, you do not have to get me in a hospital gown to see my ass.”

“Who said anything about seeing your ass? Get your head out the gutter, Mr Kennedy.”

Leon rolls his eyes once more, getting to his feet with ease with you still in his arms. He pushes your face into his chest as he walks towards the front door.

“Leon, no, you need to rest your shoulder. Put me down - I can walk.”

“Don’t want you to see.” He murmurs. “I’m gonna get you in the Jeep, call work quickly – they’ll come sort this mess – then straight to the hospital.”

You keep quiet then, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you nuzzle your head against his chest, a realisation hitting you.

“We won’t be coming back here, will we?”

He pauses, fiddling with the keys in lock.

“I’m sorry. I know you were finally feeling at home here and-”

“No.” You cut him off. “Home is us together – wherever. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He opens the door. “You’re right. Home is with you, sweetpea.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[bad268]

Omg I just read your new kimi fic (with the chronically ill reader) and I love it so much! Soo literally anything else for kimi would be amazing (there's so little fics for him istg) but if its okay I'd love a figure skater reader (but like professional, world champion kind of skater) who's currently not competing cos she injured herself kinda badly (preferably smth to do with her acl but anything is fine) so she can't skate atm (like kinda Angsty but also fluffy, maybe kimi comforting reader or smth?)

Otherwise I'd also love same concept with figure skater reader and her and kimi going skating and like her teaching him or smth haha

Thanks so much in advance already <3

Go for the Gold (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Figure Skater! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Thank you love! I'm glad you liked it <3 I may or may not have semi-based this on Sasha...)

Warnings: Drugs (pain meds)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1040

Summary: Silver will have to do until you can get back on the ice.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

As if finishing second in the Olympics wasn’t a hard enough blow, you landed wrong during a practice jump and made a worse injury for yourself when you proceeded to compete on it. Yes, it wasn’t your main jumping leg, but that did not mean you didn’t stand on it during certain moves. And yes, silver was good, but when you set a world record in your program, maybe you set the expectations too high when you expected gold. Your teammate ended up getting gold. 

You just got back to your apartment in Italy after a medical appointment. Of course, you tore your ACL. And to make matters, worse, your boyfriend was out for testing all week. That just added salt to the wound.

Your parent dropped you off after you assured them you would be fine as you hopped up the stairs with your crutches in hand. You would not be able to get in for surgery for at least a week, so you had to suffer in pain for the next few days until the doctor scheduled you. 

You hobbled up to your door, trying to fish out your keys one-handed while simultaneously balancing on one leg. Usually, it would not be difficult, but you were still in pain and still felt the effects of the pain meds. It was a little harder than you remembered. You finally got your keys out, and of course, you dropped them.

“Can anything go my way for once?” You groaned to yourself as you tried to grab them. Just when you touched them, a hand came out to swipe them off the ground as another hand wrapped itself around your torso and pulled you toward the door that you just now noticed was open. You looked up at the person, dazed, to see Kimi holding you up. “When did youtube here?”

“Testing ended yesterday, I thought I texted you?” Kimi replied as he lifted you, grabbed your crutches, and carried you into the apartment. He carried you all the way to the common room where he set you on the sofa and handed you the remote. You took it from him with a glare as you pulled out your phone to show him no messages.

“Does it look like you texted me? No. You didn’t,” You snapped as you threw the remote to the side as you opted to stay on your phone. “Would’ve been nice to have you with me, but no, You were here chilling while I was getting drugged and x-rayed.”

“I must’ve forgotten to send it,” He muttered as he pulled out his own phone. Indeed, he did forget to hit send. He wanted to be upset at the attitude from you, but he’s been with you long enough to know that when you get hurt, you get mad. It’s never directly at him, moreso at yourself, but that did not mean it hurt any less. He knew the best way to go about this is to give you space for a while.

So he left you alone. As soon as you snapped at him, you felt bad, but you couldn’t follow him because he left your crutches against the far wall. You had to just sit there in the hole you dug and wait for him to come back. 

What felt like forever to you was more like an hour for Kimi. How did he know? Because he cooked you your favorite food (that he knew how to cook) as an apology. He went to hide away in the kitchen, so he could still keep an eye on you while also focusing on food. If you were still on the meds, you would be hungry after they wore off, he thought.

He was right because he peaked over to the common room when he heard rustling, and he saw you trying to stand up using the table. It was not nearly tall enough to provide adequate support, so you kept falling. He ran over to help support you, and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes when you noticed he was the one helping you.

“I’m sorry I’m being difficult, Kimi,” You whispered as you leaned into his shoulder and cried. ”It’s just a lot, and I didn’t plan on being injured, and I know I’m not the nicest when I’m injured, and I know I snapped at you-”

“And I know you’re sorry, and you don’t have to apologize,” Kimi chuckled as he cut off your rambling. Every time you got hurt, you would apologize profusely every time you snapped, but it became something he would look forward to. It usually means the initial pissy mood was gone until the (inevitable) next injury. “I made your favorite to cheer you up a bit? Are you hungry?”

“Are you a mind reader?” You gasped as you snapped your head up to meet his eyes. “Did you know I was craving it?”

“I just know you like to eat it when you’re feeling down,” Kimi consoled as he helped you toward the kitchen island to sit. Then, he went around to plate up your food. “It’s known to give you strength. Maybe enough to get you back on your feet sooner.”

“Oh, I wish,” You sighed as you began to eat the food. “This is amazing, Kimi! Who knew you could cook?”

“You’ve known I could cook for years since you taught me how to make it!” Kimi defended himself. “And what’s with the ‘I wish’? Something happened at the appointment?”

“Just that they can’t get me in until next week at the earliest,” You groaned as Kimi took his seat next to you. “Looks like you and I are gonna be attached, more than usual, for the foreseeable future. At least a week wait for the surgery, then a 9-month recovery period. Therapy won't start until at least a month post-op.”

“And I’ll be here the entire time,” Kimi comforted as you leaned into his side. He left a kiss on the crown of your head before whispering, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get the gold next time. You’ll come back stronger than ever. I think this is the start of your comeback story.”

~~~ Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[cybercl0ne]

not sure if u do requests but I found ur blog recently and have been OBSESSED. I was thinking if you could do an arrange marriage fic for aizawa. I would absolutely DIE if u did. It can be any AU i wont mind since whatever u write will be amazing! I know it 💗💗💗

Will do! I love you so much. I wrote this trying to best fit my other pieces of work, so I hope you like it and I'm sorry I took so long to reply but I'm here now *plays graceful music*

Summary: Your father sells you to a man that knows you from UA.

F/M (she/her)

A/N at the bottom!!!!

TW: Abuse, mentions of Abuse, Fathers a massive dick (again), massive Angst, 18+, slow burn, porn with plot, murder, Aizawa is Yandere

You tried to keep your head down. You wanted to speak. You felt the words you wanted to say bubbling up in your throat, desperately trying to simmer.

"Don't disappoint me Y/n." You fathers booming voice bowelled. His intense aura making you feel smaller than you already were compared to him.

"Yes father." You spoke, still trying to maintain a put together face. You were slightly confused as to what was going on but would never voice it as you learned where talking out of line got you. Your mind hissed at the memories of the endless nights of torture your father would put you through just so you would never talk 'out of place' again.

Unimpressed your father scoffed, watching as the car rolled to a sudden stop. He let himself out, leaving you to bear the responsibility of fear. His assistant opened the door, his heart sharing the same hole as yours. "Good luck miss." He whispered, cheering you on knowing that this tiny act of kindness could get him killed. You gave him a warm smile innocent but filled with bloodshed, wanting to be in his shoes, even as a assistant for a man like your father. At least he could escape. At least he wasn't wasted down by the overbearing responsibilities you bared.

His shoes were different from the feet you walked with. You quickly and quietly made way to catch up with your father who still ignored your existence for as long as possible. He stepped through the sleek sophisticated door, you behind his large frame.

Life has never been fair to you or your family. When you were born your mother fell ill causing her to be hidden from the outside world. Sometimes when you’d have nightmares you’d curl into the warmth of her bony chest, watching as her warm arms wrapped around you. She’d reassure you countless times, kissing your temple. But now those days were gone. You no longer could run into your mom's touch, watch her smile glow up the room full of iv drips and medicine.

"This is Y/n. Shes the one that you will be betrothed." Your fathers familiar booming voice declared. You stood shell shocked, not wanting to believe what your eyes had soaked in. "N-no...H-he didn't say that." You blinked a few times to make sure you weren't stuck in some messed up nightmare but found you were very awake.

Your father nudged you as he placed his hands on your shoulders and activated his quirk, burning into the cloth of your clothes. You wasted no time, bowing before the strange man. "She might be a little untamed but I'm sure you'll figure it out." He said, throwing you at the man that stood before you.

Your face was nothing but mortified as you saw your father walking out of the room, still sharing the same uninterested look at you as when you were born. "F-father?" You scampered towards him, scraping yourself and ignoring the man that you fell into. He shared nothing but a simple scoff.

You blanked as your world flipped on its side. You saw your father looming over you as if he had put something rotten in his mouth. The glint that he shared between you sent your body into hives and shivers.

"I am not your father. Don't call me that." "If it were up to me, I would've never had you." "I would've sold you off to some man any day, but it appeared he was the only buyer."

"So, play nice now."

As soon as he spoke your body reacted with the only reaction it could. You hauled forward, your body rejecting everything. As you threw up all over the poor man's floor you noticed the sleek black shoes your father always wore disappear behind the black door.

You desperately reached for his long-gone presence. tears and snot uncontrollably free falling in front of you. "P-please father!"

"Don't leave me! Don't leave me behind! I-I'll be good!" Your heart wrenching words dissipated into thin air as it would never reach your targeted audience. The only man in the room however rushed to your side, immediately comforting you.

You watched as the world went black.

You woke up with a heavy migraine, your brain trying to forget the part where your father basically admits to hating you at birth. You hold your stomach as you try to muster an emotion other than grief and freedom mixed but you find yourself unable.

You look around realizing that your environment was completely different from what you knew. The spacious room overwhelmed you and the man that laid across from you spoke danger. You quickly huddled up into your legs as the strange man stirred in his sleep, transitioning to a woke state. "W-where am I?" You spoke, your voice faint and hoarse. You cringe at how little words fall from your mouth. "My house." The man utters.

You decide to take a good look at him, taking in his gruffy patch under his chin, his eyebags and his ragged black hair.

"Shota? -"

Both of your faces light up upon remembering a distant name from the past.

"Hi y/n." He breathes a breath of relief. You grabbed him immediately, embracing him tightly as he stood stunned, unsure of weather to hug you back and risk never letting you go.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Aizawa Whispered softly afraid you might float away from how light you felt in his arms. You let go, examining his face once more, fighting the urge to pepper it with soft kisses.

"Oh Aizawa..." "I-I'm so sorry..." You stuttered. You felt immense guilt as he talked his worry of you onto you.

"I had to leave UA. I wanted to be like you, a teacher but my father..." You choked, not sure if you can even call him a proper father. All he ever knew was pain.

"Don't worry. You'll be ok now." He reassured, lightly stroking your head. You whimpered into his chest, carving small circles.

For the first time in a long time you could feel yourself breathe. It was like you no longer had to cover your mouth, or act like you were stepping on pins and needles. You were free.

——*a few months later*——

You thought you’d hate the idea of marriage. Being tied down to a lover, or whoever your father would put you with in the end. But Aizawa was determined to erase any mark that monster had placed on you, and that started with the roots itself.

Since Aizawa was a pro hero he was fully aware he could never kill the villains he pursued. But the more Aizawa held you at night and watched you wriggle and mewl in your sleep made the reasonable thoughts broil. He knew he just had to do something. He stepped downstairs at after finalizing his plan, seeing you downstairs preparing him another beautiful breakfast that he felt a little bad that he wasn’t gonna eat. But there would be many great meals that he’d enjoy with you after he got rid of the lingering problem.

You looked so peaceful with your hair tied up and idling in one of his t shirts, never failing to look like a supernova even in the groggy mornings. He couldn’t resist and had to feel you from behind if even to just get the smell of you in his mind. “Hey baby” Aizawa’s groggy and rasped voice croaked. You startled, jumped as he wrapped his arms around your waist, rocking you side to side to let you know it was him.

“Hey honey. You ready to eat?” You asked, spatula in your hand but your attention all on him. He loved the way you’d fill his stomach with butterflies like he was a teenager again when you looked up at him with trust.

“No sorry sweets, I’ll pass but I’ll be back to eat later.” He didn’t fail to miss how you deflated a bit but perked back up after he hugged you tighter you perked back up.

“Well alright. Just be back in time for lunch or dinner.” You nagged like a wife. You caught yourself on the words, visibly flashing a hand to your mouth. He laughed, thinking about how little you changed through the years, even through high school you were shy and reserved but around him you loosened up unintentionally. It made him feel like he had done right. He’d been told by many peers and other of his students that he was scary, but deep down Aizawa cared, just was very used to acting like he doesn’t.

He planted a wet kiss on your face, exiting the warm feel of your embrace, looking back at you one last time for a fond memory until he gets back from doing a little “errand”.

He watched from afar at his victim. He watched as he left in his black car that had been in his rear view. Aizawa watched as the tall buff man exited the car and into his esteemed home with no car in the world. He looked as if he had no concern. It made Aizawa want to erase him even more. Aizawa followed close behind posing as a pro hero just put on patrol. He banged on the tall door that assisted the tall lowly man.

The door shot open as his tall stature sank to the front door. “What?” His booming voice rang. Aizawa could tell why this voice hurt and scared you so much but Aizawa was determined to make sure you never wind ear of a melody as broken as his. The man was visibly puzzled when he saw no one was standing at his doorstep. Shrugging it off and grumbling back inside his domain. Aizawa, already one step ahead, was inside his house without anyone or anything hearing/noticing. He promised the job would be clean and quick, all so he could have as much time with you as he wanted for the rest of both of your lives. He watched as the man sat in his office with a state of the art tablet, focused on whatever shady business he was indulging in. Aziawa made no effort to hide any longer revealing himself to the perpetrator that taunted the love of his life for so long under the radar. “What are you doing in here? Who let you in?!”

“Y’know you should do your research a little better.” Aizawa spoke, ignoring his past comment. Aizawa quickly and hastily poked the knife he placed at his knee to the grown man’s neck. And without second thought he slashed. He made sure the cut were clean and watched as blood splattered from his neck. He made little to no noise. Only choking on his gurgles of blood.

He quickly dipped out of the crime scene leaving nothing behind. He was aware that your father had ties and Allies, but with those allies were his enemies. Enemies that hated him with a diehard passion. Some of his Allies were backstabbers anyway, but your father was blinded by his power that he failed to even realize that you were what was keeping his business up. With you being there and as his weapon made him powerful but alone his quick could be quickly outmatched.

Aizawa shrugged, concluding that he’d fall down the ladder sooner or later but just decided to speed up the process. By now it was late and he knew that he probably had a worried wife at home waiting patiently for his arrival home. His heart fluttered, leaving behind the murderous acts where they belonged.

As soon as he stepped through the door he was happily greeted by you jumping at him wrapping your arms around him. “Where have you been?” You asked worried. You scanned his body for any marks of harm but when you found nothing you warmly hugged him again. “Sorry I’m so late honey.” He whispered into your head. He picked you up holding his lips to your face. You scrambled under him to put you down.

“Aizawa! Put me down you maniac!” You laughed, clutching onto him as he walked to your bedroom. “But I missed you so so much darling.” He teased, placing you gently on the bed to pepper your face with kisses. He towered over you showering you with deep love.

You both paused to look at each other, both lost in the way the other looked. He gently lowered into you, his eyes intoxicated with a potent that had you falling deep into his lips. You both share a loving kiss Aizawas hands not knowing if they should roam down your body. You grab his hand after breaking the kiss and bring it up to your left breast.

“It’s ok Aizawa.”

“I trust you.” You clearly spoke into his ear. You watched as his face shared a bright dusk of blush as he slowly allowed his hands to travel down every curve and slope of your body. You shivered under his touch, mewling and mumbling under him.

He found his way to back to your breast, playing and toying with the hard nipple that formed from his touch.

“So fucking beautiful.” He muttered. You tended up as the words registered to your ears. You noticed the bulge that grew in his pants as he kissed down your stomach, his eyes pleading for permission. You nodded as he pulled and teased at your already wet panties that now fled attention to the floor.

“You’re so fucking wet for me princess.” You hid your eyes as he played with your slick that was soaking his fingers as they played with your entrance.

“No, no, no sweetie, don’t look away. Be good and look at your man playing with your sweet cunt.”

You reluctantly opened your eyes to see his two fingers coying with your needy cunt. You watched as his fingers lodged their way inside of you. You quivered at the new feeling of something wriggling inside of you. “So damn tight for me baby.” He whispered as he fixated all his attention to you pussy. You wiggled and moaned as he stretched and prodded at your needy hole.

“p-please”

“what princess?” He stopped, looking at you. You lifted your leg to brush against his raging bulge. You felt it twitch against your touch and watched as Aizawa seethed with pleasure.

“Tell me what you want” He demanded.

“Y-you.”

Aizawa clicked his teeth, freeing his cock from his pants. You saw how it laid out on your stomach. You imagined how easy you’d tear from how big he was. You were completely new to this, and a little intimidated by the girth and length of his twitching cock.

He pumped his member testing and readying it at your entrance. “Don’t worry baby, it’ll fit.” He soothed playfully. You flushed at how he petted your stomach as he stabled himself inside you.

You both seared with how tight everything felt. You felt the world spin as pain and pleasure mixed beautifully. You greedy pussy pushed for more of Aizawa’s cock as he paused to let you breathe.

“You’re doing so well for me princess” he kissed your teary face. “Is it all the way in yet?” You whimpered. He lightly chuckled, and shook his head softly.

“we’re not even half way darling.” He spoke. You felt yourself stretching and clamping around him as he thrusted his way inside you. You felt how his cock crawled into your cervix and deep inside your womb. You felt the way your pussy throbbed for harder movements.

“P-please keep going.” You voiced.

At that moment Aizawa lost control and started pounding at your womb. You felt your ass shake as skin collided with one another. You watched the small bulge in your stomach disappear and reappear every time he rammed in and out. Soon you start to feel the sensation of your stomach coiling around him. “Aizawa i-I’m gonna-“

“don’t worry I’m going to cum to baby.” He grunted. You watched as your cunt slicked more and more as his thrust became deeper and stronger. You grasp onto his back, leaving your own special mark on him as you screamed and moaned his name.

“That’s right baby, my name is the only name you need to know.” He panted. You felt the coil in your stomach snap as you started spasming around him, coating his cock with your cum. Not too long after you Aizawa chases his own high, nearing his climax.

“g-gonna fill you up. Gonna breed you with my children baby.” He said as he thrusted.

Your mind started going blank as he kept pounding your soaked and overly sensitive pussy.

“Y-yes please fill me up w-with your lovely cum.” You panted as you both stared eachother in the eyes.

You felt his cock explode and coat your womb with his load. You felt how his cum traveled its way inside you, some of it overflowing out of your twitching womb.

The room was filled with moans and pants, the room smelling of fucked out sex and the feeling of hot bodies touching each other.

Aizawa laid against you for a moment before pulling out, gaining a whimper from you and how the empty pop of his cock leaving your pussy made you shiver. He placed you in his chest, you still feeling weak and your legs still shaking. “I love you y/n.” He said, breaking the silence. He planted a kiss on your head, when he heard no sounds or reply he glanced and saw how you were peacefully sleeping on his chest, bundled up and face beautifully resting.

The next morning you woke up and next to you, Aizawa resting peacefully, arms around your waist. You kissed his nose and watched it scrunch up as he moved in his sleep. You quietly giggled while trying to escape his grasp. You went to the bathroom to clean the sticky sensation from yesterdays ‘nightly activities’.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, clean and new you traveled back to the bedroom to throw your clothes away when Aizawa’s rustling made his presence.

“Where are you going honey?” He asked groggy with his eyes still closed.

“sorry to wake you baby.” You kissed his forehead, waking up from the sudden movement of his love trying to get out of his embrace too early.

“Come back to bed.” He whined. You indulged him, laying back into his needy embrace.

He rocked you and wrestled you around and soon you both were play fighting in the bed.

“Aizawa stop that!” You playfully cried out as he tickled you. “Stop? Stop what? Oh this?” He tickled again over you. You kissed his lips and you both fell into a deep make out session. When you both break the kiss Aizawa just takes a second to watch you. Look at the love of his life. “Y/n please marry me.” He spouts. Your eyes glow as he hugs you waiting for your reply.

“Really?” You stuttered.

“Of course, you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’ve actually wanted to marry you since high school.” He admitted.

“Really?” You flushed, soon you two were having a conversation on how you both like each other in UA but never acted on the feeling. It was like you both were in high school again. Your heart felt fulfilled as you watched him ramble about how he was so into you and you never knew.

You cuddled up into him listening to him call you his wife.

A/N: hey y’all! Thanks to these two people who sent me a message! When I saw them I literally felt so fulfilled that I started on this last night. Sorry it took so long but it’s not done I still gotta do part 6 of Falling for a dead rose so see you then.🫡

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 29. Reparo (*)

Aesop's overenthusiasm in indulging in some wild impromptu lovemaking with his sweetheart leads to a rather unexpected sitution.

chapter specific tags: 18+!, explicit, established relationship, attempts at humour

relationships: aesop sharp x reader

a/n: I like to think this one is quite unhinged, as I wanted to go out with something of a bang 😁

[FULL PICTURE]

29. Reparo (1k)

tw: explicit, vaginal sex, age difference (reader is an adult)

Nestled among various books and scrolls, partly hidden away by collapsed shelves, lay a couple in a rather obvious state of undress, both of them laughing uncontrollably.

In all honesty, Aesop Sharp should have picked a more suitable vertical surface to pin his young lover against, however, one sometimes simply cannot steer their passion. And in a sudden surge of desire brought to him by her seductive words, coupled with the enticing movement of her hips as well as his overall hunger which seemed to be merely lurking below the surface since the first time he was allowed to take her, he truly found himself unable to think clearly, the blood normally coursing through his brain gathering entirely elsewhere.

And so, in an ill-advised move, after ridding one another of all the not only unnecessary, but at that moment completely unwanted articles of clothing, the young woman’s warm back was pressed against the coolness of the bookcase, and their bodies surrendered to their most carnal, unbridled desires. However, what their wild coupling lacked in choosing of a good surface, it made up for completely in passion and pleasure, the scraping and thudding noises the bookcase made as Aesop’s sweetheart was mercilessly pounded into against it were music to the professor’s ears as much as her own moans of gratification.

That is, until a different noise entirely cut through their heated moment. A very nasty sounding crack. And suddenly, all hell broke loose. His lover squeaked and tightened her arms around him as she felt the bookcase give way and begin collapsing behind her. Aesop, however, was not fast enough in getting his balance as the girl’s entire weight was suddenly shifted onto him. And so, they tumbled down in a tangle of limbs, the potions master only just so managing to shift them enough so neither of them hurt themselves on their way down, his hand securely on the back of her head for good measure. 

He used his own body to shield her then, as the blasted piece of furniture pretty much broke apart and fell all around them, books hitting his back painfully on their way down, soon being spread around their panicked bodies and some even covering them, along with the wooden shelves. After a few seconds, it would seem the Great Fall of the Study Bookcase was over, and Aesop didn’t waste a single second in asking: “Merlin’s fluttery hole! Are you alright?” along with checking his young lover for any potential injury.

There was complete and utter silence for several seconds, broken only by their heavy breathing, but then…

Then the young woman began laughing, loudly and openly. A few moments later, during which the complete absurdity of the situation finally hit the professor, he gladly joined her in her laughter. His face buried in her neck, his guffaws reverberating over her skin, her hands twisting gently in his hair. 

“Oh, Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” she squeaked, giggles still wracking through her mostly bare body. “I’m so sorry,” Aesop replied, his laughter still strong, and he lifted himself on one hand to observe the damage. His sweetheart didn’t seem to be hurt, thankfully, and there were tears of laughter running down her rosy cheeks. The bookcase was left in a state of complete ruin, and one of the collapsed shelves was digging into his arse rather uncomfortably. 

This was bloody ridiculous.

“I’m sorry, fuck… This is a first for me,” he said sheepishly, not making an effort to move just yet. “Another thing you can add into your autobiography,” the girl giggled again, taking in deep breaths, prompting a curious look from him. Her eyes closed and hrt grin widened: “Aesop Sharp; Former Auror, Potions master of Hogwarts, part-time bookcase destroyer!”

Aesop rolled his eyes, and lowered his head to rest at the crook of her neck again. “Such things can happen in the throes of passion,” he defended himself lamely, shrugging his shoulders the tiniest little bit. He could feel yet another giggle bubble in her chest: “True enough. However, seeing as our throes of passion caused me to now have an edge of a book somewhere an edge of a book definitely should not be, I think we better go enjoy the throes of passion somewhere else, ideally on something that won’t collapse on us.”

He chuckled, but moved to get up, the books and shelves that covered his back and bum falling down from him in the process. His prick wilted slightly in the chaos that ensued, but despite everything, it was quite obvious he was still very much interested in continuing what they began. “My sweet,” he offered his hand to his lover, and she took it with a roll of her eyes. 

With a quick wave of his wand and a ‘Reparo’ uttered from his lips, the bookcase began repairing itself, and soon stood as it did before some idiot decided to fuck his girlfriend against it. Books floated back into their previous position soon after, and the only proof that anything had happened in the study at all outside of just that - studying - were the two of them, partly naked, slightly sweaty, hair tangled and bodies still warm and thrumming gently. 

“So… want to try the kitchen counter next? I’m almost positive that one will be fine,” Aesop offered with a cheeky grin, prompting the young woman to smack his shoulder lightly. “I think I’m actually quite happy to finish in our bed tonight. However, if you want to experiment up on the counter, be my guest. I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done,” she replied teasingly. Aesop mock frowned, before swiftly grabbing her waist and throwing the poor girl over his shoulder. 

“Bed is an excellent idea, dear,” he said happily as he hauled her, giggling and squealing, out of his study.

---

a/n: And that's it folks! Sharpuary concluded. Thank you everyone who read and enjoyed these little snippets of mine, as well as the silly scribbles. It was very fun to participate, as well as reading and looking at what all the other Sharpies produced. I already have some more art and I'm in the middle of writing a new fic, so I'll hopefully soon have more Sharp content to share, and hopefully next year, we'll do this rodeo again 😁

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed ❤

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 ao3

Eddie goes to slip out for some air when El starts to doze against Steve’s shoulder.

As he reaches the door, Steve calls for him with a soft, “Wait a sec.”

He turns to see Steve trying to sit up a little, still mindful not to jostle El from where she now sits on the edge of the bed.

“Wake me up if I’m asleep when you get back? I don’t wanna miss Joyce.”

He says it casually, like it’s nothing, but Eddie can hear the trust in his voice.

“Yeah, ‘course I will,” Eddie says, and manages a genuine if subdued smile before he leaves the room.

Outside, he feels like he can let go a little, sighing loudly. It’s starting to rain, but he welcomes it, tilts his face upwards to focus on the sensation of water hitting his skin—hoping that maybe it will somehow chase away the memory of Steve’s words.

You shouldn’t have—

That’s different.

Eddie presses his hands against his eyes, sighs again.

“You okay there?”

He lowers his hands, blinks to adjust to the light.

Joyce Byers is sat on a bench smoking a cigarette, the overhang of the hospital roof sheltering her from the rain. She pats the space beside her in invitation.

He sits down hesitantly. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”

She smiles like she’s not convinced, blows out smoke a little shakily. She takes another drag, then says, “Hop’s gone for Round Two with the doctors. We want Steve to get a discharge note as soon as possible, you know? I just…” She sighs. “Just needed a minute.”

“He’ll be okay, right?” Eddie blurts out, can’t stop a note of anxiety from creeping in. Embarrassingly, his voice trembles right at the end.

Joyce immediately reaches across and squeezes his knee; her hand is small and warm. “Oh, yes, he’s—I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to make you worry.” She finishes the cigarette, stubs it out, and meets Eddie’s gaze reassuringly as she speaks. “He’s recovering, we know that for sure. Jim… Jim talked to him, and he’s probably in more pain than he’d ever let on, but we’re—trust that we’re ready for that, okay? We’re not gonna let him suffer in silence.”

There’s a fierce determination in her voice, and it takes the edge off Eddie’s worry—soothed by the thought that Steve does have people fighting for him.

Joyce draws back her hand, rubs briefly at the side of her face.

Eddie can’t stop himself from noticing, from asking. He never could. “Are you okay?”

She drops her hand, smiles at him. “Oh, you’re sweet. I’m all right, just…” Her eyes go off into the middle distance for a moment, and he is reminded of the snatches he saw of her around town three years ago, when people would sigh patronisingly: That poor woman.

“They had a whole file on Will, you know? So many damn papers, all these charts and monitoring, and, ‘Oh, isn’t this fascinating,’ and…”

Eddie inhales sharply, glad he’s already sitting down. There’s still gaping holes in his knowledge, he knows that Dustin gave him a hasty summary—needs must and all that, just glossing past it with an It all started when Will disappeared. Hearing it from Joyce like this is different, makes him reckon again with the sheer magnitude of it; and he feels ill at the thought of a very young Will Byers being studied.

“But when I cornered them today, it was… they barely had half a page on Steve.” She exhales forcefully. “Cowards. They thought they could get away with it.”

“With what?” Eddie says, already knowing that he won’t like the answer.

“They’re trying to run,” Joyce replies shortly. “They’re getting rid of evidence. I think they thought—hoped—that Steve would slip through the cracks.”

Eddie’s breath catches at that, and Joyce grips his knee again.

“Hey, listen to me. We’re not letting that happen. We’ve got him, okay?”

Eddie nods. “O-okay.”

“I’d better head up and see him.” Joyce stands, and then she just looks at him. “Eddie, you’re—you’ve done so much, you know? Thank you.”

Eddie can’t bite his tongue. “You don’t even know me,” he says, and he’s not sure himself of what he means, if it’s an accusation or… He’s used to murmurs, whispers, suspicion.

But Joyce’s eyes are shining with something like acceptance. She smiles, says, “I know enough,” like it’s easy.

And when she leaves, Eddie just sits with that. Breathes it in. Lets himself trust.

-

He crosses paths with El and Hopper as he heads back inside. He does a feigned double take in the foyer when El spots him, then crosses his eyes.

El sticks out her tongue.

Hopper doesn’t notice him; there’s a purpose to his step, car keys in hand.

Eddie lets them go.

-

Steve doesn’t need to be woke up; Eddie can already hear him talking as he approaches the room. The door is shut, but the corridor is empty, so silent that Eddie can make out words, muffled but comprehensible. Joyce.

“—so sorry, Steve, we went to the cabin first, and the phone kept cutting out, and then Hop got sick so we wanted to hold off, just in case it made you—”

“No, no, it’s fine, I wasn’t expecting—”

There’s a chair just outside the room—Eddie lowers himself into it and waits.

They talk for a while. Eddie zones out for part of it as Joyce does most of the talking, references to Russia that mostly go right over his head.

But then Steve speaks again, and there’s a discomfort in his voice that has Eddie straightening in his seat.

“I know you paid to fix the window, Joyce, please let me—”

“No, no, that’s not—”

“—pay you back, I can—”

“Steve,” Joyce insists, and it’s said kindly, but Eddie can sense the steel core behind it. “No. I don’t want you worrying about anything like that. It’s not a problem, okay?”

There’s a pause. In the silence, it’s almost like Eddie can feel Steve grappling for words.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I probably left the place a mess,” Steve says quietly.

“No, not at—”

“And, um, if you’re using the dryer, you’ve gotta—I don’t know what I did, but it’s not broken-broken, you just need to really slam it, and then it should—”

“All right,” Joyce interrupts gently. “Steve, it’s—thank you for—”

“No, you don’t need to—the house is always open if the kids need it, they know where the spare key is.”

“Still, it’s—it’s really kind of you to…” Joyce trails off, and Eddie wonders what she’s thinking. What she’s noticed.

Please see him. Reach him.

“It’s good for the kids to have that space,” Joyce says. “They’ve really needed it.”

“And they’re, um.” Steve’s voice wavers. “They’re all okay?”

“Oh, honey. Yeah, they’re all just fine, they can’t wait for you to—”

“I just—” Steve breathes in and out shakily. When he speaks again, his voice starts to rise in pitch, fighting tears. “I just needed them to be okay.”

Quick footsteps. Steve makes a small, desperate kind of gasp. Eddie does not need to see to know that Joyce is holding him.

“Everyone’s okay. You—you did so well, you kept them all safe.” She sighs. “Oh, sweetie, you’ve been so brave.”

And Steve quietly falls apart.

-

When Joyce leaves, she sweeps Eddie up in a brief, strong hug, almost lifting him right out of the chair. It reminds him a little of Nancy.

“They think I can leave in a couple of days,” Steve tells him. The only giveaway of earlier on is the blotches around his eyes—now he seems to breathe a little easier.

Eddie hopes that whatever strings Joyce and Hopper have pulled, it warrants Steve being given much more than half a fucking page.

“Tomorrow, could you, um—like, would you mind just picking up some clothes from mine? Just wanna look, uh, as normal as—”

“Normal? Think that ship sailed a long time ago, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs through a laugh. “You just don’t appreciate art when you see it.”

“Want me to iron the polos, too?”

“Now let’s not go crazy,” Steve says, smile broadening.

And it’s only when he goes to sprawl on the couch again that Eddie notices it’s pressed up against Steve’s bed once more—that Steve, at some point, must have asked for it to be moved back.

[neonovember]

Bourbon Decision’s

Steve Rogers mafia!au

summary: In light of your reappearance in New York, Steve makes a decision that begins the road to the relationship between you both. And you, begin to remember some familiar faces.

warnings; mentions of death, murder, angst and violence

a/n: so, this chapter gave us a little bit of a back story on how the reader ends ups in Brooklyn, and who her husband truly is. Your girl is a fighter! More parts coming soon…

The cursive lettering burns a hole through your chest, the edges cracked and plastered as you shove accusation down into your pocket. It almost feels poisonous, like simply touching it will make him come around the corner, reminding you that you would never be alone, that you were never going to escape him.

You’re able to hide your shaking hands from Caroline, who takes your silence as simple exhaustion, you fill ill, the bile rises from your throat and you pinch your arm to stop yourself from gagging.

You’re able to conceal your emotions well, your entire life and marriage has been holding up a mask, it was a dance that was all you knew, and all you would ever thank him for.

“You alright there sugar” Caroline looks towards you, eyes filled with concern and she takes notice of your wobbly legs. She reaches with a hand to steady you, but you ignore it, holding onto the granite counter, forcing your downturn eyes to look up at Caroline, you straighten your back.

“Yep, fine, I just need to use the restroom” You reply catatonically, a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes has Caroline looking at you even more strangely.

You turn down the hall, passing David, his auburn black bun bopping to the tunes chirping out of a beaten-up purple stereo he gaggled a 17-year-old in exchange for a pack of Marlboros.

The smells of bacon grease and butter that causes the insatiable monster taking camp in your stomach to growl now has you running into the staff bathroom, the door slamming behind you as you dry heave the entire contents of your breakfast.

Wiping the spit falling from your mouth you turn on the tap, scrubbing your face clean and running a wet hand across your hair. The reflection staring back at you looks nothing like the woman just mere hours ago, a woman who thought she had escaped the biggest tormentor in her life, a woman who thought she was finally free. This woman, the one whose eye bags now seem deeper than before, whose skin looks dull and pulled across her body like skin on bone is bound and shackled by the haunted past that never seemed to wretch its fingers off of her.

Each time she thinks she has a chance at life, the chain wrapped around her neck tightens, and it pulls her back until she's dislocated and bruised. It shakes her violently and spits in her face, laughing and cackling, staring down at her in disgust because how could she have been so stupid? So foolishly naive?

You don't escape men like her husband, you just end up dead.

An overwhelming desire engulfs you, the need to survive and flee fills you strong, and for a second you glance at the back door that leads to the alleyway hidden from the main road. You've got enough cash on you to skip town, maybe hunker down in a dingy yellow motel for a bit until you feel

But what's the point? There was no plan B for what you did, your escape itself was a fucking plan B, and your head is still pounding from the success of it. You had gotten lucky, for the first time in your life, you had gotten lucky. You wouldn't get this chance again, this was it for you. Skipping town would do nothing, but prolong the inevitable, there were no steps ahead with the men you knew, at least let you die with your dignity.

You can't help but laugh at your stupidity, it racks through your body and has you bent over, gripping your stomach, before your shoulder shudders with cracked sobs, a hand muffles your wails as you run the tap, the last you wanted was for adiora to hear you.

You were just so exhausted your body weighed down with the fatigue and stress of your escape, the bruises and injuries you've accumulated over the years that never fully healed took a toll on you. You'd never gone a day without seeing how your body would look without the yellows and purples colliding, some ragged and large while others were small and deliberate. It made you walk funny, your manager had asked if it was a limp, if you'd be able to waitress with all the walking it included, you rushed to tell her it was nothing, just a fall that didn't heal right.

You needed this job, and youd do anything to get it

Caroline had told you you could get benefits for it, to help with rent and supplies, you smiled and told her you'd look into it, you didn't think it would be appropriate to tell her it was years of abuse.

Could the government pay you for that? Or would you be met with an officer at your door ready to drag you back to your husband because of course he had the governor on speed dial and the NYPD in his front pocket?

A tiny bubble of anger begins to set place in your chest, how dare he? He didn't even want you, the nights he’d bring home countless women told you enough. Why did he so adamantly want you then? Keep you chained and locked in the palm of his hand? 

You've seen the other marriages in this line of work which were much like yours, transactional and strictly business. Except most of them had an agreement, you have yours and I have mine. Show up like you both are in love, clutching onto each other and keeping your lovers to the side.

Not him though, no, he wanted it all, you think he craved the power it gave him, to see you at his feet below him, your escape was the one time you felt like you had gotten him beat. You knew it wouldn't last long but damn did it feel good.

That man with golden hair looked at you so strangely, like he knew you from long ago, you'd shaken the sense of familiarity from your mind before it even began. This was New York, not Washington, no one knew you here. You were just a face, like any other, so why did he look at you like the sight of you broke him? 

The fact of the matter was, your husband was an unstable lunatic who fed off the fear of others, he’d probably shot a few women who even slightly resembled you during the time since your escape, so why didn't that man drag you out of the diner and into one of your husband-marked vehicles? 

There was only one explanation, one you couldn't bring yourself to entertain, but it still remained in the back of your mind, next to the hopes and dreams you had for yourself at 13. 

The sounds of your name being screeched from the counter can be heard echoing towards you, the diner was horribly understaffed and don’t doubt that there is a mountain of things that needed to be completed since your meltdown.

You need this job, you were not about to lose it.

So just like the years you have been trained, you shove the impending emotions down your stomach, straighten your back, and practice your smile before slamming the staff door behind you.

It’s well past 11 when you finally finish cleaning up after the last of the patrons that exited the diner, the moon was cloaked behind deep grey clouds, providing little light to your walk home. David had offered you a ride, but you had declined quickly, the thoughts circling your mind would be too loud for a car ride. You didn't like walking home, especially this late at night, but you had no choice. You would not want to incapacitate someone else's day, especially now with a target on your back.

The flickering street lights provide a tiny sliver of direction to the beaten path cracked with concrete and dirt. A loud truck filled with men slowed as they neared you, you kept your head down, fingers pressed into your palm as you tried to avoid any confrontation. They screamed obscenities, before zooming past you, the smell of burnt tire lingering behind them.

There was a shortcut to your apartment complex, though the back alleyways were hidden from the main street, and you made a sharp turn to follow the insecure path through the suburban houses. It doesn't take long before you notice the unmarked car following shortly behind you, just a few streets back, enough to not look conspicuous but still get a clear view of you.

You tense, unsure of what to do, you push your house keys between your fingers, silently praying to god that it wasn't him. And it seems that god is on your side today, as the car pulls into a dark street, leaving you breathless and releasing your grip on your keys.

You don't waste any time running the rest of the way until the dingy apartment complex comes into view, your neighbour, a sweet middle-aged lady whose smile never quite reached her eyes and who let you use her gas was screaming at her son, a cigarette hanging from his mouth in open shock.

You smiled to yourself as you passed them, he looked towards you with raised eyebrows, pleading for some support. You weren't about to tell her how to raise her kid, she looked even more exhausted than you.

Jimming the door handle a couple times, you finally shoulder your way into the safety of your small but safe apartment. The soft caramel walls were chipped away at the edges, and the wallpaper was peeling but it was home. It was the closest thing to something that was yours, and only yours. 

You quickly made yourself some time, to help calm the storm beginning to write inside your mind again, you hated coffee, it left you jittering and cold and you just wanted to sleep at this point.

After jumping into the shower, your waitressing clothes left sweaty and seeped with oil in the basket you finally found the solace of your cold bed. You invested good money into a solid mattress and covers, and it payed of by the softness and ease that engulfed you. 

You reached for the book left on the side table, its spine broken in and countless stains and markings left on its pages. You had never gotten the chance to read, you'd been told it was a useless waste of time that could instead be used for more important things.

Now though, with the threat of your safety looming around the corner, you felt you needed to finish every book you started, in fear you mightn't ever again.

Your mind, however, was running 50 miles an hour and it so happened to find him, golden boy, again. He looked so different from the henchmen of your husband. They were all short and stoic, egregious muscles bursting through tight shirts, fingers dirty with blood and sin. They all had that hungry insatiable expression, like rapid dogs, they salivated every time they were given a task, to murder, to steal, to torture. 

One particular night, when you left down the hall to the section of the house you weren't permitted to enter, the blood-curdling screams and moans followed by their laughter had you bolting out, they heard you anyway, and your husband had forced you to watch.

You just needed scissors.

This man though, his eyes shone with a different kind of darkness. One possibly more intricate and deeper than the sleazy men near your husband, and, it should have scared you. But it didn't, it pulled you closer like you wanted to dip your foot in and see how far it went. The sense of familiar you'd refused to feel filled you once again, a part of your mind was screaming at you, itching and shoving its fingers between bordered wood to get you to see.

Shaking your head you flicked to the dog-eared page, one thing you knew about the world you were married into, was all the men were obsessed with one thing, power and money, and they'd do anything to get it.

All of them.

The brown liquid sloshes against the ice as steve raises it to his lips, finishing it with one gulp. The familiar burn of liquor eases the tension in his shoulder, as he leans against the mahogany desk, hands folded against his chest.

“All I’m saying is that we have to act fast and we have to act now, every day that passes is another risk to the dominion, he's getting more and more erratic by the day” Sam murmurs, sitting on the plush velvet coach situated to the left of the expansive office, the high ceiling lights cast a glow across the room that does little to ease the tension.

Steve rubs his jaw, scratching at the stubble that has begun to grow, he's gotten so busy that he'd forgotten to shave. Steve’s mind is scattered, bits and pieces here and there, Sam was right, Matthews was getting even more unstable than he ever was, killing mercilessly without a second thought, leaving finger prints and blood and bodies. Sooner or later, he’d get the entire underworld exposed if he kept up with this.

“I know, I know, I just- I need to think” Steve begins, before Bucky interrupts quickly, his eyes roam Steve, squinting as he notices something off.

“It’s different this time, Matthews, it’s more than just his greed and psychotic tendencies, he’s lost something. And I have a feeling you know exactly what it is”. Bucky replies, eyebrows raising and he looks towards Steve.

Sam looks up rapidly, a grim look on his features as he takes in Steves silence

“Steve…what is it?” Sam replies, Steve was apprehensive to reply, eyes shutting for a few minutes, mind racking over the moments before, when he found you. Selfishly, in a way, he wanted to keep you hidden, a secret only he knew, but Sam and Bucky knew him long enough where they’d eventually find out.

“You know Matthews wife” Steve begins, Sam and Bucky lean in closer as they take in Steves tighten jaw and deep seated anger behind his eyes. Steve was a man of decorum, he’d rarely show his true anger, always hidden behind canine smiles and wolf like hunger, he was precise and meticulous with his rage. It’s what made him so powerful.

“The girl from your home town?, The quite one right?” Sam replies, confusion covering his features as he tries to connect the picture Steve was sewing in front of them.

His cracks as he remembers you, before Matthews and before he stamped out the light that always shone through your eyes, the oblivious innocence you carried that seemed to suck him in and ruin him for anybody else.

“Yeah, yeah, that one” Steve coughs before straightening his back 

“Poor girl, I heard she didn’t even get a say, just woke up one morning with his claws in her. I haven't seen her in any of the charity fundraisers in a long time” Bucky says, hands running through his jet black hair as he recalls your frequent absence. It was strange, most men would flaunt their wives anytime they’d get the chance, especially one as gorgeous as you. Not Matthews though, he acted as if you were invisible, a burden, like a mother running after her petulant child. As if he wasn't the one that gave you no choice but to marry him.

“She's gone” Steve spits out, his golden locks fall to his face as he quickly pushes them behind his ear, no one else knew of your absence, besides your husband and him, you were still behind the shadows of his wrath. Now the shoe had dropped and it was real, you’d really gone and done it, you’d escaped him.

“What do you mean Steve, your telling me that girl escaped one of the ruthless mob bosses in Northern America? The one with all the guns and men and fucked up morality? The one who’s murdered teenagers?” Sam emphasis in open shock, moving to get up from the sofa and walk closer to Steve.

“I dont know when, I don’t even know how, but she got out” Steve says, a sudden urge to see you again fills him, he shakes it away quickly before it consumes him whole and ruins him.

“Holy shit, she really did it. She’s got some fucking balls” Bucky says, eyes widening as he comes to terms with the fact that you may not have been as innocent as they once thought.

“But, if shes out...she knows what will happen to her now? As much as I hate Matthews, he brought her immunity and protection, especially one from a family like hers, now-, now she’s a walking target.” Sam says it was inevitable, the mafia world wouldnt allow for such treachery, for such betrayal.

“Open fucking season” Bucky continues, eyes strained behind Steve towards the frosted window of the office. The planes of concrete fields stretch endlessly, the smoke of vehicles and Nee Yorks smoking problem floating through the deep grey clouds.

What was your endgame?

The question circles Bucky’s mind, he was always searching for an answer, a causation, and right now you had him stumped. Funny.

Steve nods, nocking his leather dress shoes against each other, loyalty ran thicker than blood in this world of theirs, and what you had committed was worse their murder.

“She disappears I know, trust me I do, probably ends up at the bottom of the Hudson at best, and at worst..” Steve says

He didn’t need to continue for them both to understand. Eyes failing to wince as they had grown use to the brutality of the mafia.

“But, I talked to her, earlier today, down by Brooklyn” Steve begins to say before both Bucky and Steve interrupt him quickly

“You talked to her?! Jesus, Steve, this has got to be a fucking joke, because I know the man infront of me. And he would be as insane as to talk to a mafia’s wife, let alone the king of the dominion. Hell, even being near her would count as a death wish” Bucky replies, eyebrows furrowed as the shock of Steve’s recklessness hung in the air.

“We can’t afford an attack right now, especially one from someone as psychotic as him and his lunatics” Sam reiterates, unsure what had gotten into their usually calculated and cunning friend.

“Listen dammit”, Steve grumbles, hands flying around him

“If I get her to share some information about Matthews in return for safety, we’ll be able to get ahead, plan an attack before he even registers she’s back in New York”

“Back, she was here before?” Sam questions, confusion filling his usual stoic features

“She was here a couple years back, something happened, bad, and since it’s Matthews you know it had to have been some extraordinarily catastrophic shit” Steve murmurs, eyes far away as if he’s mind was back all those years. His fist tighten involuntarily, and he quickly reminds himself to relax before they take notice of his sudden anger.

“No one knows what happened, not Santiago, not even Brock. All we know is that he changed after that, became way worse. Before, at least he could keep a handle on it, after what happened though, it’s like he’s wishing for a reason to rage”. Steve continues, Bucky and Sam nod following him, they had all noticed the shift in Matthews behaviour, even more drastic then, the entire underworld whispered behind masks and glistens of pistols about the mafia don and his mental breakdown.

“Your asking her to commit treason then?” Sam quakes, hand pressing into the deep wood of the chair.

“She already did when she walked out that door, you don’t just make a decision like that, no, not for someone like her. She probably stayed in that decision for days, if not weeks. She knows the risks she took.” Steve informs, arms crossing against his chest, he knew you weren’t as stupid as people thought you were, in fact he knew you better than most people ever would.

You were similar to him in that way, cunning in ways people didn’t realise, always hidden beneath false naivety.

“Well, you sure he’s still out looking for her? How do you know he isn’t pointing a fucking laser at your head right now?” Bucky begins eyes strained to the window again as if looking out for any incoming steel bullets.

Steve remains silent as he hums to himself, a pen between his fingers as he jots down your address on a haphazard note pad.

“Because she would have already been dead by now” He says finally, underlining the street name twice, before clicking it back into the desk drawer. Sam laughs, a hand coming to rest at his chest, the under suit creases at his ministrations and it reminds Steve that he needs to buy one that actually looks good on him.

“You’re one insane mother fucker Steve, I’ll give you that” Sam chuckles at the casualness of the blond’s demeanour.

Steve shoots a smile, a real one, his canines glint and for a second, it’s as if a wolf has taken it’s place over his features. The rosy reds of his cheeks contrast against the sand gold of his hair and suddenly Steve looks younger. Like the cruelty and immorality of the world around him hasn’t taken his soul and left a gaping black hole.

“That’s how we win, it starts with her” Steve replies with finality, his voice refusing any negotiation or persuasion.

It was final, Steve set his eyes on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he got exactly what he wanted.

Taglist 🏷️

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@namelesssav @shamelessfangirl-3 @nessie2183

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[valentine-writes]

Could you write something about hanahaki disease with Johnathon ohnn? (Could end in angst or fluff either is good :3) no rush ofc, i love your work!!!

choking on flowers.

「 tws + notes: open ended ending, implications/mentions of death (but no Actual Death), unedited, OOC, interpretation of hanahaki may be slightly diff (i haven't heard of this trope thing in a hot min ngl so im not the Greatest With This), pre-collider even though his holes generating flowers is a silly thought which i giggled abt while writing this, present/past tenses are fucked up cuz i changed formatting halfway, angst?? 」

「 gn!reader, (unrequited) romantic relationship </3 」

↳ ft. johnathan/johnathon ohnn

author's note: THANK U SMMM!! (∩^o^)⊃━☆ lowkey 4got thiz thing existed lolz,, and while hanahaki aus are no longer My Thing, i wud b lying if i told u i didn't eat hanahaki ficz up in middle school ＞︿＜!! sooo,, here we go!!! hopefully this is ok,, many apologies for how short it iz aauwgwhwh

this is the third time you've called him today, trying to reach out. the first two times, he had thought he was strong enough to ignore you.

he was wrong. the minute his phone rang out that third time, he practically scrambled over to it just to answer. pathetic.

"you haven't been at work for what,,, almost two weeks now?"

the concern in your voice makes johnathan want to keel over dead instantly– not like he's far from it anyways. he pulls his phone away as he lets out a weak cough. you barely hear it from your end of the call.

"...sick." is all he manages to rasp out, his sore throat preventing him from speaking further. even if he could manage to talk more, he wouldn't know what else to say. how would he tell you? the call ends prematurely. you know you're not going to get more out of him, and he knows that it's better to keep you in the dark about his situation.

to tell you about how his unrequited feelings have manifested into something much more than both of you can handle was completely and absolutely out of the question. how was he supposed to explain he had been coughing up your favourite flowers? johnathan would rather let it kill him.

not only was he humiliated by the sheer intensity of his yearning– he knew you'd end up feeling guilty about it. yet, a part of his heart ached, wishing that he was selfish enough to tell you. maybe seeing you cry over him would give him some semblance of love.

that was an awful thought. he promptly pushed it aside. he'd never want to make you cry.

he could only laugh at how frustrating his situation is. it was inescapable, his fate inevitable and ever nearing– and no one to tell.

he had never felt so alone.

at least i'll have flowers for my funeral, he thought in the deafening silence of his home, finding the energy to let out a weak chuckle over the thought.

–

a few days after the call, his phone buzzed, receiving a text from you:

i'm coming over'

straightforward, at least.

'what if you get sick?' he messages back, trying to generate excuses to keep you away.

you reply swiftly, before he can come up with anything else, unswayed by the idea of potentially catching his illness which, unbeknownst to you, wasn't really transferable anyways. 'we'll wear masks then. omw.'

lovely. you were stubborn as ever. at least you gave him a heads up.

he noticed you made no attempt to keep your distance from him as you dropped off his little care package.

all neatly put into a little basket was some fresh fruit you had insisted he needed, as you rambled over the importance of vitamin c and immune health, a sweet little card filled with "get better soon"s filled by his coworkers at alchemax most of which he knew probably didn't really care all that much, a few packages of cough drops you had been a sweetheart to actually choose ones which had bearable flavours, a blanket, a few snacks, and... flowers.

if you had known exactly what illness, he doubted this choice would have been made. he stared at them silently, finding some sort of humor in the mortifying irony.

-

you said an awkward goodbye at his door, about to turn around and head off– before hesitating for a second.

"johnathan?" the way you looked at him, eyes filled with tenderness and worry– maybe it wasn't so bad after all, for you to be the death of him.

"...yeah?"

you didn't say anything further, instead, choosing to communicate through impulsively squeezing him into a tight hug.

you pull away just as quick as it had happened, yet the warmth of your embrace lingered a little longer, even as you headed out the door. something about you caring so much made it hurt more.

johnathan wondered why you even cared, why you were so persistent about looking out for him– knowing that he'd end up watching you slip away from him again, leaving an ache in his heart nothing could remedy.

he couldn't blame you. not sweet, kind, thoughtful you. he was the idiot, the careless fool who yearned for something he couldn't have.

maybe in another life, he thought to himself.

[mint-yooxgi]

Broken People - Dragon!Hongjoong X Reader

Dragon AU

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Hongjoong X Reader

Words: 2,044

Warnings: Mental Illness: Depression, talks of loneliness, insecurities. Not edited, sorry.

A/n: I was in a really weird headspace this evening, and this is what became of it. I was mainly listening to Screen by Twenty One Pilots when I can up with this idea, and it’s just me writing out a comfort for myself when I get like this. So, I hope it can be a small comfort to others as well. I hope you enjoy.

“Can you come over?” The words sound foreign, even to your own ears as you speak them into your phone.

A moments’ pause as he can sense something is off just from your tone alone.

“Of course,” Hongjoong replies. “Is everything okay?”

“I- uh… yeah,” you let out a long sigh through your nose. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Alright,” he blinks. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” Even your confirmation doesn’t sound as chipper as you usually are. A fact which makes his worry skyrocket tenfold.

You end the call.

Tossing your phone beside you on the bed, you continue to stare at your ceiling. It’s just one of those nights. A night where your mental state takes a slow, downwards spiral, and no matter what you do, you cannot help but just feel empty inside. Not quite to the point of dissociating, or feeling completely numb, but enough that doing anything feels like a chore. Even the usual things you do to help you get out of your funk aren’t helping, leading you to lay upside down on your bed and stare at the ceiling like you have been for the past hour.

That’s when you decided to call him.

Hongjoong has been one of your closest friends for as long as you can remember. You can still recall the day he told you what he was, your awe filled gaze staring at him in wonder. Dragons aren’t unusual in the society you live in, but unless they’re a public figure or a celebrity, having them reveal themselves to a human can be considered a monumental event.

He trusts you, and you trust him. That’s all there is to it. At least, that’s what he told you.

Which is exactly why when this mood of yours didn’t improve after an hour, even as you did whatever you could to distract yourself, you called him. He’s always been there for you when you need him, and you’ve always been there for him. No questions asked.

He makes it to your place in fifteen.

As soon as he walks into your room to see the state you’re in, his brow furrows even more in worry.

“What’s the matter, Treasure?” There’s nothing but concern in his voice as Hongjoong sits on the edge of your bed.

“I just-“ You sit up, heaving another long sigh as your eyebrows droop. You can’t even meet his gaze. “Not feeling the greatest, is all.”

Reaching a hand out, he lightly rubs his hand over the side of your arm in comfort. “What has you so down? Is something on your mind?”

This is not the first time Hongjoong has helped you through a depressive episode. Nor will it be his last. Not that he’d ever mind. Not when it’s you, and especially not when you’re feeling like this.

“Nothing really,” you admit, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap. “I’m just-“ your voice catches slightly, “I know it’s stupid, but I’m just feeling so lonely, Hongjoong. I just feel empty inside.”

Immediately, he wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his embrace.

“I feel like there’s this hole in my chest, like there’s something missing, and I don’t know what to do to fill it,” you continue. “I know what I selfishly want to fill it, but it’s just unrealistic. Or, well, I know I shouldn’t particularly be thinking like this, but it’s just so hard not to.”

“What is it that you want to fill this void, Treasure?” He asks softly, keeping his tone low so as not to pressure you.

You blink, a sense of what appears to be shame washing over you as you curl in on yourself in his arms. Then, you speak, voice a mere whisper on your lips. “A lover.”

The way his breath hitches is slight, but you can still feel the way he stiffens slightly as he continues to hold you in his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you’re quick to apologize. “I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. Forget I even said anything, it’s stupid, anyways. Thanks for coming over.”

You go to move out of his hold, but his grip on you only tightens, keeping you in place.

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you,” he replies, keeping his gaze locked on the top of your dresser. One item in particular catches his eye. “I’m here to listen if you want to talk.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and Hongjoong almost believes that your stubbornness will refuse to let your speak. However, as soon as he feels you lean further into his embrace, he knows that you’re about to tell him everything that’s currently on your mind.

“I-“ you begin, cutting yourself off as you swallow thickly. “I’ve never had someone to call my own.”

The admission feels like a condemnation as soon as the words escape your lips in a hushed tone.

“I know there’s such an emphasis on being single and happy, or not needing someone else to feel complete, but I just can’t help but want someone. I can’t even say I know what I’m missing, but there are times where I just-“ your voice catches. “There are times where I just want to be held. Where I want someone who is in love with me to cradle me to their chest and tell me that everything will be okay. I want to know what it’s like to be loved and cared for like a lover would.”

“There’s this ache in my chest, Hongjoong, and I can’t help but think that it might just go away if I had somebody to love,” a silent tear begins to trail a path down your cheek, falling onto his shoulder and soaking into the material of his shirt. “It’s selfish, I know. But it’s just so difficult when I see everyone around me in relationships, or saying I don’t need someone when they have a person of their own to call theirs. I’m just tired of being alone.”

Slowly, his hand begins to stroke tenderly along your back, tracing the curve of your spine with every movement. Still, his eyes never leave that one item on top of your dresser.

“And I feel so stupid,” you laugh humourlessly. “Me, spewing my ideals about soulmates to you of all people before I even knew what you were.”

That small, smooth seashell he gifted you two weeks ago almost glares mockingly back at him now.

“I guess I’m just so desperate to be loved that I’ll believe in anything.”

Never before has Hongjoong heard you sound so broken.

“I just want somebody, Hongjoong,” you sniff. “I’m tired of being alone.”

A moment of silence passes over the both of you as Hongjoong lets your words sink in.

“You’re not alone, Treasure.” He voices gently, hand still tracing along your spine softly. “You will always have me.”

“I don’t mean to sound like I’m invalidating your friendship-“

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head, chuckling lightly. “Tell me, My Jewel, does that hollowness in your chest still pain you so greatly while I’m around?”

“Hongjoong, I don’t understand.”

“Please,” he pulls away the slightest bit to stare deeply into your eyes. There’s a hint of nervousness to his tone now, one which you do not understand. “Answer the question, My Jewel.”

You blink, feeling the way your heartbeat accelerates the longer he continues staring at you like he is. “No. It doesn’t.”

“There is a reason for that.” He smiles faintly.

“I still don’t follow.” You shake your head.

“I know how you think, Treasure, and I know that ever since I confirmed that soulmates were real in a sense, you didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Hongjoong says, a sort of sadness taking over his features. “You always seem to want to believe in these things, but you never believe they can actually be for you.”

“How would you know?” Your reply is nothing short of defensive, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You think I cannot tell when my own mate is in destress?” He sends you a knowing look, brow quirked and all.

Your reaction is immediate: eyes widening as your mouth parts in utter shock. “Excuse me?”

“This is not the way I planned on telling you,” he leans back slightly on your bed, hands supporting him behind his back. Tilting his head up, he stares at your ceiling. “I wanted a chance to properly court you first before I dumped that little tidbit of information on you. I didn’t want to you to feel like I was forcing you into anything, given your ideals on the topic, and the connotations it can have. Besides, I didn’t want you to think our friendship was because of this fact. No, this bond appeared because of our friendship.”

Despite it all, one piece of information sticks out more than the others in your mind. “Court me?”

Again, his gaze falls upon that shell resting atop of your dresser.

“I have already started, you know,” he chuckles.

“You have?” The surprise is clear in your voice as you blink at him in shock.

“I don’t usually give pieces of my collection to just anyone.” He hums, motioning lightly with his head towards your dresser.

That’s when your own gaze finally falls upon the shell resting there. Not just any old seashell. His absolute favourite shell of all time. A piece of his vast collection, of which he gifted to you.

“Oh,” a faint heat begins to rise to your cheeks as the meaning behind such a gift washes over you fully. “I didn’t realize.”

At the time, you thought nothing of it. He’s gifted other small shells to his closest friends before, so you just believed it to be him doing the same for you. Then again, given the importance of the shell he gave you, you should have realized sooner.

“I can tell,” he chuckles lowly once more. “I don’t expect anything to come by this right now, and I’m not telling you this to try and take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state.”

“I know you, Hongjoong, and I know you would never do such a thing.” You smile faintly, assuring him in your own way for the moment. “Least of all to me.”

“Good.” He returns your smile softly, a subtle nod to his head. “I just want you to know, that you are not alone. Even if things were different, and I did not have such strong emotions towards you in such a sense, I would still be here for you. I understand that hollowness you feel, for I felt that every day until I felt that bond between us settle into place. I am here for you, in whatever ways I can be, and although I may not be who you have in mind, I can and will be the one to hold you, and fill that void in your heart as much as I can.”

Cautiously, Hongjoong raises his hands to your face. His touch is nothing but tender as he cups your cheeks in his palms, thumbs gently brushing over your skin as he stares deeply into your eyes, wiping away your lingering tears.

“I will do whatever you ask of me, Treasure,” he voices lowly, the sincerity bleeding into every word, “for I am already so deeply in love with you, that I never want you to feel this way again.”

Your breath hitches, whole body stilling beneath his touch.

“I understand you might not feel the same for me, and we can discuss how we move forward together later, but please,” his fingers press a little firmer against the sides of your face, cradling you gently, “tell me what to do, and I will do it. No questions asked.”

“Hongjoong,” the way you breathe his name has his heart racing uncontrollably in his chest. “Will you stay with me? Just stay with me, and hold me in your arms for tonight. That’s all I ask.”

His expression softens, nothing but fondness and care shining within his gaze as he smiles softly, nodding once. “I can do that.”

[sunghoonnsupremacy]

#LOVETALK! - warnings: cuss words, slapping.

001. - 002.

my legs felt wobbly as if they were about to break into tiny pieces resembling porcelain, feeling his stare on my figure. walking over to my friendgroups lunch table, I try to keep my focus away from the cat shaped eyes that are boring into my soul.

"soomin-ah, are you okay? " my friend karina asks with a worry filled look on her face. I nod with a smile and sit down next to her, preparing to eat my food. my other friends, keeho and aeri quickly wave my direction as they continue to munch on their lunch.

a sigh escapes my mouth when I feel my stomach grumble at the lack of food. I grab my chopsticks and eat some gimbap, trying to eat as much as i could before the bell would announce more pain and suffering.

when all of a sudden, a silence falls upon the table without me noticing.

my thigh shivers under the cold touch of somebodys hand, while sensing a presence sitting down next to me.

"hey soomin. " his voice basically in need of an emotion. multiple (3) pairs of eyes fall on us when i turn to look at him with a shaky smile.

"hello jungwon. " I look into his eyes with a look of confusion. "are you still coming over? " his voice rearranging the mechanism in my brain.

when I accidentally take too long to reply, karina nudges my arm from beside me, knocking me back into my senses.

a fast nod moves my head, his smile appearing once again and squeezing my thigh. "good." and with that he stands up and walks out of the canteen.

"what was that? " keeho loudly asks me. I struggle to reply while thinking of a excuse. "we have a project due next week together so we agreed on meeting up at his place today. "

"yeah? what class? " keeho asks with narrowed eyes. "literature." if only they heard the lies on the tip of my tongue. aeri nods uncertainly and goes back to eating. a sigh escapes my mouth, doing the same.

"anyway, I heard there was a party happening soon at the frat house. you know the one where sunghoon is in. " karina announces with a giddy smile and claps her hands at the mention of another party.

we all laugh at her enthusiasm, karina pouting in frustration. "hey whats so funny? " she crosses her arms over her chest and grumbles.

"nothing rina, you're just an alcoholic. " aeri giggles, still finding it funny.

"do you know the date? " I speak up, wanting to hear more about the booze filled event. karina checks her phone and scrunches her eyebrows, replying with a "in two days i suppose. thats friday. "

shit. Im supposed to be at jungwons day that aswell. how do i cover that up? isn't he friends with sunghoon? would he let me go? I let out a frustrated noise as they all look at me, weirded out.

"you can't come? " keeho asks with a frown. I sigh once again and rest my head on my palms. "I can't, my parents invited me over for dinner and to stay the night. " another perfect lie being said by me today.

"oh come on im sure you can convince them to let you go out. you're 18 already. have some fun once in a while! " karina giggles and puts her hands in a prayer motion. a bunch of please's come out of my friends mouths as I laugh at their desperation and nod.

"okay okay ill ask them. ill let you guys know later! " I shoot them a quick smile and finish my food, almost perfectly timed with the bell ringing.

all four of us let out a groan at the sound, knowing that we have to spend another hour or two in this shit hole before getting to go home and into their comfortable bed (them atleast).

we say our goodbyes, hence our classes being in different parts of the school building. I quickly run over to my biology class, not wanting to piss off my grumpy teacher even more.

sitting down in my seat, I turn around to greet nicholas, a former neighbor of mine. "hi nicholas! how are you today? " a sweet smile sits on my face while I wait for his response.

he smiles back warmly and answers, "hey. im good, how are you, pretty? " he shoots me one of his signature winks, resulting in me giggling at his bad flirting attempt.

a glare settles on his face when he notices me laughing at him instead of falling for him. "one day I'll get you to take me seriously. " he rolls his eyes and leans back into his chair.

" yeah sure, mr. lover" I sign quotation marks, mimicking what he calls himself both offline and online which I find quite embarrassing might I say, hence him not pulling one girl ever.

he groans and kicks my chair. "you just don't get the love I send out. " he sighs, flipping his hair like a disney princess. I snort at this, knowing the only love he ever shows to anybody is his sock.

before we get to chat more, the teacher hurries into the class, apologising for his late arrival leaving me quite suprised since I've never seen the dude own up to his mistakes before and I've been in this class for a year now.

biology goes on smoothly, me answering a couple questions because im petty and like to beat nicholas in everything.

after class ends, we basically run out of the classroom in happiness that the day is over. nicholas throws his hand over my shoulder and walks me towards the school entrance.

I sigh, knowing I have to head to jungwons house instead of mine, otherwise it wouldn't end no where near well.

I give him a quick hug and say my goodbyes, trying to please jungwon by being on time.

after leaving a couple knocks on his door, his tall figure emerges from the wooden frame and pulls me in by hand, leaving me a bit stunned at his very forward action.

"jungwon what are you-" not even giving me the chance to reply, he locks the door and slams me onto the ground. I wince, since I was wearing a skirt and the cold wooden floors didn't do much help on the impact when I hit them.

"what were you doing with nicholas? huh? " he slowly walks over to me, glaring at me with cold eyes, something very different than seen from his at-school persona.

I try to think of a reply but his glare stops me from doing so. he bends down to my level and harshly grabs my chin with his slender fingers.

"answer me you bitch. you know I hate being ignored." his words are a slap onto my face as his fingers dig deeper into my flesh.

"nothing I was just saying bye to him. there's no need to get worked up. " I grumble, not meeting his eyes before realising I could've and most definitely should've worded that differently.

"don't speak to me with attitude, or we're gonna have a problem. " he lets go of my face and quickly pulls me up and slams me against the wall.

what is with this dude and causing me temporary back pain?

I nod and look back into his eyes, searching for some sort of emotion. "I'm sorry. " a quiet, whimper like sentence leaves my mouth, not wanting him to increase the ache in my body even more.

he rolls his eyes at my weak attempt to apologise , but lets me go. "don't pull that shit again, soomin. " he walks away into his (most assumed) living room and leaves me in the hallway.

"you can leave now. " he shouts at me from the living room, letting me go. I take the chance and get the hell out of there before he got even more angry.

how long has it been like this, you may ask? for about a month now. it started from cute smiles to creepy notes in my locker, leading up to this mess.

I've tried to escape his hold many times but it led to failed attempts. now I just learn to endure it.

arriving at my house, I plop down onto my bed, falling into a deep sleep. let's hope tomorrow won't be as tiresome as today was.

[triumphantfury]

Hi!!! Just dropping by because I was missing your fics so I reread them and now I have to tell you how much I love you. I love you a lot, by the way. Like literally every time I read a chapter of yours I love you more because GAH the writing is so damn good. Ahem anyways thank you so much for the update on Wrapped in Red and I still have to fan myself every time I look at Upside, but I've been thinking the most about "To Suffer a Witch." I don't mean to put any pressure on you or anything but may I inquire on the next chapter's status? Or perhaps just request a snippet? Also when you asked the readers whether or not they'd like an eventual lemon I'd like to vote yes to the lemon. Please. Possibly-Demon Hiccup is hot as hell and I'm greedy. 😅

Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful writing with us and I hope you have a wonderful day, week, and at least a virtual cabin in the woods where you can relax, read, and at least think on writing!

Oh boy….

It’s taken me forever to get around to answering this ask, but as the new chapter update is almost complete (after way, WAY too many rewrites), I feel like I can finally post this reply with some measure of confidence. Sorry it’s taken so long. I wish I had a good excuse, but my brain sometimes just shuts me out.

Anyway, after much anticipation, and likely a little cursing, here’s an excerpt from the soon to be posted next chapter of TSaW:

*The next couple days seemed to drag by for Astrid. She felt trapped between a longing to see Hiccup again just to prove she wasn’t mad, and a strong urge to just write it all off as a delusion. Perhaps one brought on by some bad grain or curdled milk. Countless times she’d been sure she heard hoofbeats outside, only to have them grow into a roll of thunder the next second. Or she’d catch a glimpse of a dark shadow approaching on the road, only to have it melt from her sight a moment later as if swept away by the driving rain.

Some small part of her was starting to worry she was actually going mad. Her mood darkening as she channeled her other feelings into straight anger so as to help herself deal with it better. It wasn’t as if she could really speak of it to anyone, anyway. She was still too confused about it herself.

Resigned to bear this burden alone, Astrid had kept to herself as much as possible while trapped inside. Waiting impatiently for a break in the weather when she could distract herself with repairs outside instead. The Lord knows there was always plenty of work to keep her busy. That, and manual labour was better than wasting time dwelling on… Whatever it was that had occurred here the other night.

Fortunately - or maybe unfortunately - she’d soon discovered that the storm hadn’t done anywhere near as much damage as she’d expected given its ferocity. The house, shed, and barn had all weathered fair enough at least. An old tree had toppled near the back of the pasture though. She’d gone out to repair the section of broken fencing yesterday. Her brothers helping her as much as she would allow them to - which mostly meant keeping the opportunistic goats from escaping through the hole while she worked.

It had been while she was winding the last of the rope around the newly set post that Ruffnut had approached her from across the field. Somehow always keyed in to the local to-dos, Tuffnut had heard from one of their other neighbours that some people had started to fall ill in town. The worst of which was little Argh — Mr. and Mrs. Ack’s youngest son, who was not yet a full year into this world.

“Gunnar thinks it’s because of those witches that Trader Johan was talking about the other day,” Ruff stage-whispered over the fence. Her thumb gesturing towards the home on the far side of Mildew’s plot as she glanced around, as if to make sure no one else was within earshot.

“I’d be rather foolish to agree,” Astrid huffed. “It’s likely just been brought on by the rain. We all know that a chill in the air today sets a chill in the bones tomorrow.” Looking away from her gossipy neighbour, she dressed the knot as her father had taught her before pulling it good and tight. Then she stood and gave her work a proud once over. Nodding, as if to show her approval to the craftsman.

“Maybe…” Ruffnut’s hesitant reply trailed off thoughtfully, and she was chewing on her lip when Astrid at last looked her way again. It was almost as if she had something she wanted to say, but wasn’t sure if she should speak it aloud.

“Go on,” Astrid grumbled. “Whatever it is, spit it out.”

“Well, Gunnar told Tuff that Trader Johan said the evil, or what ever it is, would arrive first in the form of a black shadow on horse back…”

“Trader Johan has always enjoyed adding plenty of dramatic nonsense about ghosties, ghoulies, and other such things to his tales,” Astrid felt the need to point out. “He seems to think it makes the stories more exciting.”

“I know,” Ruff agreed. “Thing is, Tuffnut swears he saw a stranger dressed in all black when he was out in the woods yesterday. A stranger riding atop a huge black horse. When he tried to get a better look, man and horse were already gone. Maybe the horse was just really fast, but… Tuff said it gave him the creeps.” Her eyes were shifting all around again as she leaned closer over the fence, and she looked unexpectedly nervous.

“Oh, that was probably just…” Astrid’s words died on the way to her mouth as she thought better of it.

Astrid knew how Tuff felt. The unease of not being sure exactly what you had just born witness too. This did not mean that she should necessarily encourage him to repeat his tale. Especially when she didn’t yet know what to think of the whole thing.

Would it truly be wise to mention it to someone else? The twins had never been known for their discretion, and Astrid’s words would simply confirm Tuff’s suspicions — which he would then feel required to share with every person he came across. At best, it could cause a slight scandal that a young man had spent the night in their home. At worst, the superstitious townsfolk may think the Hofferson clan had entertained something entirely inhuman, instead.

No, it was best to keep what she knew of Hiccup Haddock to herself for now. Surely the others would learn of him soon enough. “Just… because Tuff was busy snacking on unknown mushrooms in the forest again.” Astrid finished awkwardly. Covering her near slip-up with an eye roll, just to be safe, and hoping Ruffnut wouldn’t notice.*

If anyone wants to read it, here’s a link to the rest of the story. Or at least the beginning…lol

[baby--b4t]

hey pookster i’m just leaving this here because I know you’d do justice if you ever made it into a minific :3

kaveh absolutely LOVES horror/creepy things, especially when regressed, but alhaitham can’t do it. like CANNOT.

sincerely, 🐠fishie anon :3

OH MY GODS ANON YOURE SAVING MY WRITERS BLOCK RN (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ʃƪ) im gonna try and write a quick minific in hopes that itll make me wanna post more and work on my bots. ALSO TY FOR THINKING SO HIGHLY OF ME- i feel like my writing is mid but ill try my best for this silly idea (its super late as of replying to this so sorry if its a bit jumbled or doesnt make sense-)

(fic under cut)

Kaveh was supposed to be in bed hours ago. 5 hours and 38 minutes, to be persice. Alhaitham had been counting. He did everything he though would work to get Kaveh to finally lay down, close his eyes, and rest, but nothing was working. Warm bottle, bedtime stories (he had read 7 different stories at this point), and even trying different stuffed animals and pajamas. Nothing. Alhaitham was exhausted.

“Hayi? Do da tree birdies sleep? Wha’ about… Oh! Wha’ about da creepy crawlies in da kitchen?” Kaveh had been asking nonsense questions like these all night, part of the reason he was still awake at nearly 4 in the morning.

“I dont know, Kaveh. What I do know-… Wait, whats in the kitchen?” Alhaitham began to answer before he registered what kaveh had said. He sat up in the bed a little bit and looked down at Kaveh. “What did you just say is in the kitchen?”

“Da creepy crawlies!” Kaveh excitedly exclaimed, a wide smile forming behind his pacifier. “Dey have 6 leg, 3 eye- BIG eyes, and are really teeny tiny. Dey walk around in da dark and eat da bread! Dats why it has all da holes.” Kaveh started giggling, his tiredness clearly showing in his speech.

Alhaitham felt puzzeled. More than when he was trying to figure out why Kaveh wasnt sleeping yet. But what was getting to him the most was the though of some spider-like creatures crawling around in his food while he didnt look. He shuddered, the thought of bugs in general making him feel gross. He rubbed up and down his arms for a moment, trying to get rid of his goosebumps, before pressing further into this. Surely it was Kaveh just being silly… Right?

“How do you know this? Who told you about these… ‘Creepy crawlers’?” Alhaitham asked as he tried to fight the tiredness in his mind. This whole talk took a turn that was not helping his already fatigued state of mind.

“Dey told me! I got mad ‘cause my sandwich had holes, and I asked and dey told me.” Kaveh explained trough slurred giggles and mumbles. “Dey very small, so is easy to make holes. I scolded dem like you always do for da holes…” The more Kaveh explained, the more Alhaitham imagined a ton of ant-sized abominations crawling around their pantry. He shook his head and tried not to gag.

“Kaveh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the ‘creepy crawlers’ arent real. You probably dreamt about them at some point.” Alhaitham tried to explain to Kaveh, but Kaveh didnt seem to want to believe it.

“What?!” He sat up in the bed with Alhaitham, jaw dropping and his pacifier almost falling out. “But.. But dat were so cute-“ He felt himself tearing up over the fact that the little creatures he thought were so adorable werent actually real. Alhaitham sighed, realizing that now he had to deal with a meltdown.

“How about you go to sleep so you can dream about them? Does that sound like a good idea?” He suggested as he tried to coax Kaveh into laying down again. The poor baby was so tired at this point he didnt realize that Alhaitham was moving him. It did seem to stop his oncoming waterworks, however.

Kaveh gave a small nod and snuggled back up with Alhaitham. It seemed like as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was in a deep sleep. That baffled Alhaitham. How in the world would Kaveh be so willing to dream about thousands- No, millions of little spiders in his food? If Alhaitham saw them, he would already have a match in hand to burn the house down.

However, Kavehs great big imagination never failed to impress Alhaitham. He just seemed to show it so much more whenever he regressed. A soft sigh came from Alhaitham, just accepting it. His little Kaveh would just have that sort of creepy imagination and he couldnt stop it… But he would still be checking the entire house for bugs when they woke up. No ‘creepy crawlers’ get to live rent free.

[libidomechanica]

With light by

A kimo sequence

               1

That grew beside a human door! With light by light: lonely thing, that soon he rose and warmth of loue.

               2

But Flight. Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth well delight. My slumber was gone for you, my dear.

               3

Because the blue sky bends over and trust that I shall those tears; take me to the centre. But there.

               4

Pushing toward daybreak. A dainty dish to set before me, when the trance was o’er, the mastiff bitch?

               5

I do not the disaligned. Though yet, heaven seems half-way to lift some weight of low replies.

               6

That hole where leather men are vain? And slowly rolled her with me, we’re wed to one eternity.

               7

I have been faithful to you, Cynara! Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and light and song.

               8

Stay with your old baggage. Plunge them in up to thee, and thee to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               9

Says, I wanted to get married. With blushing shame, by rage suppress’d, let tears, and weep each other?

               10

To sit a star upon the floor below. And, Do I dare? No, no, my Deare, let bee.

               11

Cannot flie away. Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils defect in each, and lang’rous waist!

               12

—Thy words, relieve my verse in time, your fortune— range the wilds of Time, perhaps not a woman, off!

               13

Make in misery to live. And lie, ever singing, each to each. Makes you tyrants in the end.

               14

Free from fear, they cross’d the diver’s brain, for a lady’s chamber floor. Yet so did I let my friend.

               15

Now do I know this: I fell in love wilt hear; if from thee. Oh Angel of hopeless, lasting flames!

               16

After than Phoebus, if he seav’n times bright! For forbidden fires. To spit out all the dance was mine.

               17

Bright eyes, that all her hard and cold white as stone. Involved in stillness, plighted vows fleeting as air!

               18

Assist the field is universe into a lute. Is it indeed so? Be thine! The air is still!

               19

I told my love had seen mine execution. Curse on all best exceed proportions of the year.

               20

And gave a twist to me. Which stands check’d; Religion of my mind, thy words, thou art as tyrannies.

               21

I’ll wrap it round. Till the same chance!—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert— and light a cigarette.

               22

And all thou know’st to my dear doting heart. Do love you here is none like a dog in a kennel.

               23

But tis twilight dawned; and out of sight. Owe this dearest, that long-wish’d-for end, full to thee, and doubt.

               24

The lovely lady’s shroud. I heard the mermaid now, for I will say: How his hair is growin’ yet.

               25

Give me the shade of the sky.—An’ Charlie, he’s my darling, the young Chevalier. And is he gone?

               26

Ah! The Castle wa’, she saw three bonie boys playing with a dying fall beneath the huge oak tree?

               27

Our bed is lovely maid and sees a damsel bright a dame! Hand, turning her grave. By more than dead!

               28

And like a noon-dew, wanderings I have sinn’d! I want to glide a sunbeam by the Maiden’s side!

               29

Where I fly, pursue, rise in the brain is not so. Spake words Sir Leoline. I dreamed I was a child!

               30

By thee to mount, and complaint of present the bonie laddie in. Bare, lest aught unholy loiter here?

               31

And love to so base a vice, for no man knows. Much, Cynara! No matter by the might be well!

               32

He danced with rough. Amid that scenes appear where’er I turn me not to belie his soul with clay.

               33

Run afresh, as if she ’d said, Gee woe! I lift my heavy eyelids my anguish hangs like shame.

               34

To the fault; I view my crime, but kind? To labour was thine! And do accept my madness, and weak.

               35

He drank: her fair large bright and slender oats foraged in the lady’s chamber door; and the sun.

               36

A cool suspense from pain; thy life destroy. The wanton thru the flower amang them very ill.

               37

Of lonely way, close by the castle bell. As if she be small, jewel-like flower unfamiliar.

               38

The way to the blood runs out across the sounds and strange man should presume? That is so vex’d with thee.

               39

To know her but I? Or foxlike in difference. And thus she stooped, methought I heard a hollow sound.

               40

A blue moon for an instant leper. Lord of her beauty lies, when faithful to the land of spike?

               41

And none of us thought thus watred was my strange death of Jesus set me free. In this fashion.

               42

But could have this; she shall: then my hopes and men, who looked askance and end with his society?

               43

And those tender-ship, cried Sally Brown! Sleeps, and love all night upon mine ears, both I and the brow!

               44

Within the bathroom floor mocks your haire with me! So, the year, that yours and mine had bound us lie?

               45

Van Diemen’s land if certain when two dewdrops on the best, even to life in the airport. Ah!

               46

Seized, inside my honest faith in this man no more, but other me? A shining steps of thy child!

               47

Lingered in the moon is behind, and saw thee woman in contractions are five minutes apart.

               48

Comes first—light in what they might half undo it. Of loue new-coin’d to her from the pitiless wave?

               49

And his Anguish grew—how bear it? But, as luckless, I have sworn to bury all things undo me.

               50

That looks up at the lady by her word were it even for me. Loathe the side-lie of a truth.

               51

For once, a tremor breakfast the sky ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy. And damning their necks, where away?

               52

And flush themselves forsake and for very feare would return to life, to life in thee has killed it.

               53

And the rain on my soul. And I was a rose that green mama who first forced me to Mortal part.

               54

Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will trim. To sail with old Benbow; and here, ev’n then, shall be poor.

               55

The Sexes rose to work upon is much too much, some say, she seems that sweet said, that thou to dread?

               56

And hark, again! From happy pieties, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet face of you and me.

               57

Why should poor beauty from my love, my life. But, as luckless, I have known the rain lasts anywhere.

               58

In the bud will wear white despair? Wilt thou go with me, we’re wed to one eternity in days?

               59

Not Ida; ’ clasp it once all-fragrant-curtain’d love begins again. Then downward like those who love.

               60

What peace. And her voice is strength beguiled, this golden foot of May is on the bloated hiss of death.

               61

For I have slept on the brands were stopt with griefe. Still as death, can break her word were it bitterness.

               62

The earth forever! It must be because it is a precious seal of my life, myself—and you.

               63

Is changed in a convent’s solitary Child. When I break through all the grist of its insides grow.

               64

Now folds the maid and thine for me. Than Heaven, my Lover, were my Chamber Heaven’s sun staineth.

               65

Err I dare to look at the basin and wriggling on thy fame! My own heart’s heart, where, while I weep!

               66

Till love you, dear, I’ll love you all; let Virtue be your soules; come wait on hir whom winged Psyche true!

               67

I waste my heart and mine should hindred be. Gloom, and nothing can be old, for as you with my death.

               68

For once and show me what I meant, at all. Proud of many, lives upon his gaine is our lost will.

               69

I call, I call: who do ye call? And the rent, and long to stay with your old baggage. I would get.

               70

—Not the power to burn and be all that bloody torments you doe give, creatures, couched her homage.

               71

Geraldine shakes thee hence. Yet, if Hope has flown away in a night, or in nothing but a feint.

               72

That heart to this fool lord, dare I bid her abide by her side; nor strange. That is misunderstood.

               73

You soarer, you of the sea. ’ Echoing straits between the hills? Again she sees my lady’s maid.

               74

Nor shall die tonight, I wrote this morning. Black Melancholy reigns; what means the warm leaden sheet.

               75

And the gravelly sand take a body to it, even blue-eyed fly to the field. Sir Leoline?

               76

From op’ning on the crowing cock, how drowsily it crew. Shall ever was in our own child-bed.

               77

Within and whom I am confined. Water so cleanly I myself upon the floor below.

               78

Cries to catch her but I? Of all that we see or seem is but as a tomb which happened balloon.

               79

Out for love, to give the wreath’d trellis of a working brain, love alone. With a moonlight and song.

               80

I lift my heaven knows, in joys and woe so many times. To the banks, close of each too, too late.

               81

My soul would only be the best, even to life in losing mine? Naked, a double behind.

               82

Like cliffs which have no fear! Beneath the weight of soil, nothing new is in us, and were at peace.

               83

I knew a beautiful olives. We men and drivers in a bar-room around its wings and neck.

               84

—Come live with me—or fall from its boundless mere, with true sight! This day my journey should I presume?

               85

Into many a summer’s front doth sing and saying plainly of not turning from yonder bay?

               86

Oft did I rove by bonnie Doon, how can you bloom so fresh and faithful to its crisis? Have guessed?

               87

I fell, and fro, while I weep! And turning away, wants to be made, cobbling at the lasting flames!

               88

Such gentle still dictates, and those faire skin, beamy eyes, for the quarters, and looking to the Pole.

               89

Pitiless wave? Flickering gyres, but he’d once about to have gone to the sun delights me.

               90

And may appear so when this rebellious heart, and that will show itself to stone. Nay, fairer yet!

               91

To swell a progress, start up, the same chance! As old as a dog, as quiet as a skeleton.

               92

Move still doth breeding flow’rs. They will sing to me. That even its grossest flatterers dare not brave.

               93

That looks up at the happy again. A clover, a Fisherman mends a glimmers on to me.

               94

To them through my fingers am I at all satisfied. Her deadly pangs be drown’d, while I slept.

               95

Rain on thee; yet eyes this curious friend. The winged’ steed, I wish we never looks both small and dull.

               96

And make my old excuse, ’ proving his caresses by the cold. With open eyes ah woe is me!

               97

To deem, as a most logical conclusion, that ’s underneath the weight. It even for me?

               98

Nay, by my own eyes inspiring hole. My heart is dust at the pin; and here, ev’n then, shall meet!

               99

Unto the straitest best of all to Love than is or ever dear! Angels of the precious jewel.

               100

Ida came behind. That brought to. But to- morrow, the field. While prostrate here increase! To the field.

               101

I cried for madder music and forms of men! His gentle daughter is safe and fro, while I weep!

[blueberrysnake]

Grian in a coma what will he do

Summary: Scar took one look at a Grian that was basically in a coma and said: Hippity Hoppity, you are my property. Here's the story.

Inspired by: @transcarcinization

Set in Limited life, Session 3.

Chapter 1/1

On ao3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46382284

Word count: 1389

"I'm going to the bread bridge, Mom!" Scar called out to Cleo, a smile audible in his voice. 

Cleo would ask why the man wanted to go to their enemies' base, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. She had a feeling it had to do with what Jimmy had posted in the world chat just a few minutes prior.

SolidarityGaming: Hey guys, Grian isn't feeling so well so he's going to be asleep this session, so don't have any code emergencies or anything. He's currently out cold.

"Okay, be safe, yeah?" Cleo responded, debating on whether or not she should warn the bad boys of Scar's plan. She decided against it because she wanted to see how it would play out. 

Not twenty minutes later, though, she saw Scar running towards their base, or rather, rowing a boat into it. In the back of the boat was a llama, with a very unconscious Grian laying on it. She elected to go down and help the man get into the base with the animal.

"Thanks, this is harder than it looks," Scar said, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead.

"No problem now we have to get him into a secure room that the other Bad Boys can't get into."

They decided to just put him in a small cave underground. There's no use trying to make the place a sleeping man is in look good if he's not waking up anytime soon. 

"So, when is he supposed to wake up, Scar?" Cleo asked once Grian was secure in his hidey-hole.

"Oh, I asked Jimmy that, and he said Grian is basically in a coma! Isn't that cool?" Scar said, clearly pleased with himself for being able to kidnap an unconscious man. 

"SCAR! THAT'S NOT GOOD!" He needs medical treatment if he's in a coma from an illness!" Cleo exclaimed, suddenly very worried about the ill man they trapped in a bunker.

"Well- It's not like anyone here has the technology or spare resources for treatment," Scar explained, looking away from the angry woman. "And it's not like he's so sick he'll die! He's only got a low fever for an avian!" 

"What do you mean? If he's passed out, he's clearly very ill!"

"Oh, you see, Mom, Grian is an avian hybrid, and avians deal with sicknesses differently. They almost always pass out when they get sick, and they are very warm-blooded hybrids. Therefore, their temperature is also normally high enough that what would be concerning for a human is normal or even too cold for an avian sometimes!" Scar explained as well as he could, trying to calm Cleo down. 

He didn't want Cleo mad and didn't plan to give Grian back to the bad boys. It would not be funny to give Grian back to his group. He needed to see the look on the others' faces when they realized that Scar had Grian-napped the man they were supposed to be bodyguarding!

"Uh- Scar, the bad boys are here!" Cleo said, breaking the man out of his thoughts.

"SCATTER!" 

As it turns out, Cleo did not hear the bad boys, and she instead heard Bdubs approaching the group's base. Scar worried that Bdubs would immediately type in chat that Grian was missing, and also found inside the rock base.

"Scar, what is that noise?" Bdubs asked, referring to the faint sound of snoring from below where the man was standing.

"What do you mean, Bdubs? I don't hear anything!" Scar replied, a bit more on edge than he was usually. 

"There's a quiet sound of like, I don't know, snoring?" Bdubs pulled out his pickaxe, "I think it's coming from below us."

"I think you're paranoid, Bdubs, and I will not let you turn the rock upside down in search of a nonexistent threat!" Exclaimed the businessman, jumping in front of the path of the other man's pickaxe.

"WOAH- Scar! Be careful!" Bdubs had to stop his swing to protect Scar, nicking him. "You could've- you really don't hear anything?" Confused and concerned, Bdubs took a moment to listen again, and it was still there!

"I don't. I think that this whole thing-" Scar motioned to the air around the two for added effect, "is taking its toll on you. Maybe you need a rest."

Feeling very much embarrassed and his resolve utterly defeated, Bdubs decided to go find a bed to lie down in. Clearly, the man was simply too tired to think straight.

Meanwhile, Scar was shocked that he got Bdubs to not be suspicious of Grian’s loud snoring. That man either is very sick or needs to see a doctor after all this is over.

Scar decided to go check on the poor comatose man, pulling out his pickaxe to mine down to where he had Grian trapped. He blocked off the hole as he went, not wanting anyone to trip and fall.

When Scar got down to Grian, he could tell the man was still out like a light. Reaching into his inventory, Scar grabbed his thermometer and stuck it in Grian’s mouth. 

He waited for a while, before hearing the familiar quiet beep-beep that signified that the temperature was ready to be checked. It was 105° Fahrenheit. Great, Grian had said in the past that his normal body temperature was about 40° Celsius.

The only problem was, Scar didn't know how to convert Fahrenheit to Celcius, and vice versa. So, he had to find someone who did know-how, to make sure that Grian was okay. 

Scar pulled out the world chat on his comm, and typed out a message.

GoodTimeWithScar: Hey anyone knows what 40 Celcius is in Fahrenheit?

SolidarityGaming: It's about 104, I think? 

SolidarityGaming: Why?

GoodTimeWithScar: Just curious, thanks!

SolidarityGaming: No problem!

"okay, little birdie, it looks like you only have a low fever, then. That's good." Scar said, in a baby voice while talking to the unconscious man.

Then, Scar noticed a lot of pinging coming from his comm, the type that was notified when a message has been sent by someone.

Smallishbeans: Hey btw Jim have you seen Grian?

SolidarityGaming: WHat? He's missing?

Smallishbeans: I guess, yeah. 

Smallishbeans: Hey has anyone seen a short man in a bad boy tm leather jacket?

ZombieCleo: He's over at the rock. Scar took him.

SolidarityGaming: I swear. We're on our way.

Scar sighed. He expected his psudo mom to betray him, but so easily and quickly? He was just about to try to move Grian to a new spot when he heard commotion from above that sounded suspiciously like the bad boys, minus Grian.

"WHERE IS HE?" He heard Jimmy ask, pretty frantic.

"Down there. Just mine down," Cleo responded, sounding apologetic. "I'm sorry. I thought you guys knew Scar took him."

"It's okay, we just need to get him to our base. We promised we'd protect him." Joel responded.

Then, Scar heard digging down towards him. He paniked, and drew his sword as a block of the ceiling got mined up and two men fell out of the hole.

"Scar, we need him back." Jimmy stated, eyes narrow. Both bad boys noticed how Scar had his sword out, and readied their own weapons.

"Why have you taken him in the first place?" Joel asked, clearly confused with the situation.

"Well- I don't know? For fun?" Scar answered. As he did, he noticed Jimmy trying to edge towards Grian. Scar raised his sword to a fighting stance and pointed the tip of it at Jimmy.

"WOAH- Scar, calm down! I need to get him to take care of him!" Jimmy exclaimed, raising his hands and jumping when he noticed he'd been threatened. 

With all his attention on Jimmy, Scar didn't notice when Joel grabbed the llama and boat and booked it out of the two block wide entrance to the hidey hole.

It wasn't until Joel was out of the hole that Scar actually realized what had happened. He made an aborted move to chase Joel, and that's when Jimmy made his move to get away.

"RUN JIMMY!" Joel screamed once Grian was a safe-ish distance away, and Scar decided to give up. It was fun while it lasted, keeping a monopoly on all the Grians the sever had to offer, but nothing lasts forever.

[veteran-fanperson]

Sandalwood and Steel

I fell into a rabbit hole, I really did. Here is the (first ever, I think) Chari (Tarak in Adhurs) and Kala Bhairava (Charan in Magadheera) fic. I do have a real plot shaping up in my mind for this so I hope you enjoy the ride.

Let's get some notes out of the way. The story is set in ancient times, in the Magadheera verse, after Bhairava rejects Mithravinda's hand in marriage. There will some period typical sexism. Not beta read.

If someone wants to be on a taglist or something I'd be happy to make one.

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

“The young princess must do a Gowri vrata if she is to find a noble, handsome and brave husband, one who will rule the kingdom well and look after our people,” the chief priest advised King Vikram Singh, poring over the calculations he had just made. “I am aware of that ill omened challenge and it’s embarrassing consequences - however -”

“Yes she must marry soon.” The King responded heavily, his eyes on the peacock feather quill in the priest’s hand. Even now, ten days after, his daughter remained sequestered in her apartments, not admitting anyone inside, not eating, not sleeping, not crying. He had done this to her, to his golden little girl, unable to watch her wear widow’s white. He had watched her be humiliated in court by a mere soldier, one who should have been honoured to receive her hand in marriage. A brave and good man no doubt, but there was no fighting fate. 

As the days stretched and Mithravinda’s apartments remained closed, rumours began to spread in Udaigarh. ‘The Princess has committed suicide’, insisted some, gossiping over tea. ‘No, our king must have sent her way to hide her shame. Did you see the way she walked that day? She was hoping to marry that young man before her condition was known to all, but he rejected her. Perhaps he isn’t the father either’ insinuated others, winking knowingly at each other. 

Yes his daughter had to marry. And marry well, marry a prince of breeding and wealth, and good looks enough to shut the mouths of the naysayers. He had already broken her heart once, without her knowledge. Now it was time to break it openly, hoping that at the end of it all, when he was dead and gone, his beloved kingdom and daughter would both be safe and flourishing. 

“Tell me what arrangements I must make,” he said to the priest, weary at heart, “I will do as you advise.”

“There is a young man, one of my disciples. His devotion and ritualistic purity is strong. I will ask him to help the Princess perform the vrata,” the head priest replied calmly. “Do not worry Maharaja. Trust in the Devi. All will be well”

***

“Bhairava,” the King said gently, “I need you to escort someone for me.”

“Yes Maharaja.” The young man nodded, his hair shrouding his eyes as he leaned forward into a bow. They were in the King’s private morning room, where few people were ever allowed to enter. Koels cooed busily outside, and a fresh cooling wind blew in through a nearby window, bringing with it the rich smell of wet earth.  

“Every Friday for the next twenty five weeks, a young Brahmin will present himself at the palace gates one hour before dawn breaks,” the King said, “You will take him inside the Princess's apartments, into her pooja room. You will watch over the worship, then escort him safely back to the gates. Take care that no one disturbs the ritual. The kingdom’s future depends on it.”

Kala Bhairava assented, unable to hide his surprise. The palace was perfectly well protected, what was the need to walk a Brahmin across its premises? And besides the Princess -

Walking into her apartments -

“Maharaja. Forgive me - but I train my soldiers and run formations on Thursdays and Fridays. Perhaps someone else -”

“No.” The King answered simply, “It has to be you.” His voice was gentle, but the stelly tone underneath indicated that the matter was not up for negotiation. 

There was a pause as Bhairava struggled to school his features into blank obedience once more. 

“You may leave now. Be careful Bhairava. Take care that you reveal this to none.”

“Very well Maharaja.” Bhairava bowed and exited, his carriage upright, his hands gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist. 

King Vikram Singh watched the handsome young man depart, a sigh escaping him now that no one was around to hear it. It had to be Bhairava who performed this quest, unnecessary as it was. He needed the doubting courtiers to see that the wager to win the Princess’s hand had been nothing more than a manoeuvre to exile the swine who dared to insult her, that Princess Mithravinda of Udaigarh was still a pure young damsel, ready to be married to a worthy Prince.  

He had visited his daughter the previous night, commanding her to perform the twenty five week vrata with single minded devotion. She had made no reply at first, her beautiful face haggard with grief. 

“What will it get me father? Will it bring me the man I love? Will it make him love me?” Her voice had been weak, its brokenness burning him. Yet he dared not show any compassion, feeling like the worst of hypocrites. 

“Your duty is to the kingdom Mithravinda,” he had snapped, “You are a royal princess and you have been exposed to vile gossip enough. This land has birthed you and raised you, you are responsible for all of its citizens. I am sorry that you could not get what you wished very much, but there is more to life than mere romance. It is unseemly to run after a man who has very clearly indicated that even the temptation of the throne will not move him enough to wed you.”

Mithravinda had not looked away from his face while he spoke, her eyes dry and tearless, her cheeks wan and pale.

“Our people need you to rule wisely alongside your future husband, it needs you to birth brave and compassionate heirs to protect this land. You have grown up in the lap of luxury thanks to this land’s bounty, now it is time to pay it back.”

Despite all the pain in his heart, he was proud of her courage and her refusal to shed tears.

“I will do what you ask father,” she had said eventually. “I know my duty.”

“I am growing old, my child,” he confessed as he left her, “I cannot be at peace until I know that my duty is done.”

She had said nothing in return. 

***

Bhairva could not sleep on Thursday night, watching the moon rise gently into the heavens, showering its light on the quiet grounds of the palace. The Princess’s broken and shocked eyes haunted him, robbing him of all peace of mind. The King was quite right to have forbidden the marriage, knowing the family he came from. Udaigarh needed its royal couple to live long and fruitful lives. He regretted ever encouraging the Princess’s affections, ever letting her believe there was any hope. 

The shrill whistle of the night watchman interrupted his thoughts and he jumped up noiselessly. It was almost an hour before daybreak, time to meet the Brahmin. As he strode quietly towards one of the side gates, he wondered again about the need for this escort. 

“It is me, open the gate.” He called to the gatekeeper, and the man nodded briefly before pulling out a large key and fitting it into the lion shaped keyhole. 

A young man stood on the other side, his clothes bright while in the moonlight, his hands holding a small bundle. Bhairava noted that the Brahmin was as tall as him, with broad shoulders and large hands. His eyes sparkled when he caught sight of Bhairava behind the door.   

“You took long enough to arrive!” called the man loudly, “Now take me to your Princess in fifteen minutes, before the durmuhurtham arrives.”  

He strode past the astonished gatekeeper and Bhairava, his tuft of hair bouncing as he walked. After a couple of steps he turned around and stared balefully at the frozen Bhairava. “You! Soldier boy! What are you doing, grazing donkeys? Didn’t you hear what I said?” 

Bhairava felt a sudden irritation, fingers itching for his sword. Who did this man think he was anyway? But whatever he felt had to wait, because the Brahmin was already walking ahead, his steps fast and purposeful. 

“Hey! Brahmin! Stop!” He runs to catch up, “Where do you think you’re going? It’s the other way!” 

“Well you were busy acting like a scarecrow and I had to get going so…” The Brahmin trailed off, his eyes amused as they roved over Bhairava. “Although with that very lovely face I cannot really call you a scarecrow.” 

Bhairava choked as the Brahmin continued to look at him in frank admiration. “Strong wrists, strong legs, and a straight back, you must be very good with that sword! And do not address me so rudely as Brahmin, handsome one. My name is  Narasimhachari - but you may address me as Chari.”

“I’m not -” Bhairava stammered, feeling completely off balance.

“Not what?” Chari asked kindly, his eyes sparkling. “Not handsome?”

“No, I mean -” Bhairava chokes back an exasperated scream. “My name is Bhairava. Kala Bhairava.”

“Kala Bhairava” enunciates Chari, his eyebrows raised. “A fine name for a fine soldier. The name of Shiva, the destroyer, the one who devours time itself.” He smiles widely at Bhairava. “Shiva and Vishnu. We ought to get along splendidly together. Come come Bhairava, our time’s ticking.” 

He breezes past, and Bhairava falls into an easy pace beside the other, his irritation all but gone. 

He doesn’t know what to think.