#kind of still alive in some way 3) then realised that they were NOT themselves anymore and was plummeted into mourning and then

[lambentgrey]

i’m founding a support group for those of us in mourning about palamedes and camilla, all are welcome

[samkerrworshipper]

your moms are here

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader, (wobbs as coparents)

part 5 of beautiful girl series pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3 -> pt.4

warnings: if your any bit emotionally unstable this isn’t for u x

You didn’t expect to wake up, let alone wake up warm and in a fraction of the amount of pain you’d been in the last time you’d been conscious enough to feel anything.

Your eyes were still crammed shut, your chest still hurt, your body was still shaking, but you felt better, less like you were dangling on the cliff of life and death, you weren’t sure where you were, or if you were even alive.

Was this they greater beyond?

Was it the warmth of death’s embrace?

You knew it wasn’t, because there was still the dull pain and the tension all over your body. You didn’t believe that life after death was anything, that it was actually some overwhelming cloud of happiness and perfection, but if it did exist, if there was some kind of heaven, this wasn’t it.

You thought about the places you could be, in bed at Matt’s house, in bed at your mom’s house, in bed at some kidnappers house, in bed at rehab.

You quickly eliminated each option, the bed and sheets weren’t the same from your bed or Matt’s, kidnappers didn’t normally concern themselves with comfortability, and in your mind rehab would have more detoxing, screaming, junkies.

Out of pure fear, you tried to crack your eyes open, it wasn’t easy, but with some concentration that made your forehead feel like it was being split open, you managed to slowly crack your right eye open. There was sleep and tears keeping your eyelashes stuck together, which made it far harder then it should have been, the blinding white light directly above your head wasn’t much help either.

You took back what you thought, everything hurt.

From your toenails to the follicles on top of your head, it felt like every single nerve in your body was being plucked and split in half.

Your whole body curled itself up into a ball, it made the shaking a little bit less like your body was being exorcised.

You realised very quickly as your eye became accustomed to the light around you that you were in the last place you possibly wanted to be.

You should have clocked on to it, based on the persistent beeping noise coming from above you and the cords that were connected to your arm.

They’d dropped you off out the front of a fucking hospital.

Or someone had found you and called a ambulance.

Or your moms had taken you to the hospital.

Or you were in some sick twisted dream.

With the rest of the energy that was left in your body you managed to crack open your other eye, it wasn’t easy, but it helped you feel more aware of your surroundings.

It was a surprisingly quiet hospital, or at least by your standards.

You tried to sit up, but it was no use, your body was completely spent, all of the energy felt like it had been completely pulled from your body.

Withdrawals, maybe.

Or the reaction of the opioid with the stimulant.

Those were your best guesses as to how you’d ended up feeling like death.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out, the curtain which was keeping you contained from the rest of the ER was opened up, a nurse waltzing her way over to your bedside.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit vulnerable, you could hardly move your body and had a lot less control over it then you would have liked.

“Miss dump and run awakens.”

Dump and run.

You couldn’t decide whether or not you were mad with your friends, on one hand, it was smart of them to drop you off at an er. They had no medical knowledge, they were druggies, they didn’t need a dead body on their hands. On the other hand, they’d left you, deserted you, left you for dead.

The nurse moved to your IV and monitor, looking at the different flashing numbers and writing them down on her clipboard, before she looked down and addressed you properly.

“Had a lot of drugs in your system for such a wee thing like yourself. Your friends were smart to drop you here, you would have been as good as dead with that much meth in your system for any longer. I’ve seen a lot of overdoses in my day, you might just take the cake though, darlin’.”

Overdose?

A fucking overdose?

You’d been doing drugs for months now, meth, a smidge of coke, little bits of molly and LSD, a little sprinkle of heroin, opioids a couple of times, plenty of weed. Not once had you ever overdosed, you’d never seen someone overdose, you’d come to think it was urban myth.

You’d hardly taken anything, two shoot ups within a couple of hours of each other, it wasn’t something you’d done before but it also wasn’t exorbitant or something you hadn’t seen other people do.

“Sorry, an overdose?”

You were still shaking, it was less obvious underneath the shitty hospital blanket that was on top of you, but you were still shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Yup, think you had more meth in your blood stream then blood. The saline should flush it all out until your guardians get here.”

Guardians?

What?

What the actual fuck was this nightmare that you were stuck in.

“Sorry, my guardians?”

The nurse looked back down at her clipboard.

“Ms Williamson and Ms Nobbs? We’re obligated to call emergency contacts in life threatening circumstances and those were the ones that were on your phone, they should be here soon enough.”

You didn’t care that you couldn’t moved, you needed to leave.

“I want to discharge, now.”

The nurse looked at you like you had gone silly, like you were in a psychiatric ward instead of the emergency one.

“You’re underage, and you’d have to sign a waiver saying that you are aware you’re going against doctors orders, a lot of paperwork, and you’d actually have to be strong enough to walk out of here, which I can promise you is not happening any time soon,”

The nurse pointed to the IV bag.

“There’s still another hour or so left on this, until it’s done that dizzines your experiencing and the weakness isn’t going to pass. You’re frighteningly dehydrated and full of methamphetamines.”

Fuck.

You were so fucking fucked.

“Please, I’ll sign whatever forms, just let me leave, please.”

You didn’t know how you planned to leave, considering you weren’t even mobile enough to roll onto your back to look at the nurse properly, eye to eye.

“You get up and walk to my desk where the papers are and you can leave, how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

You want to yell directly into her face and tell her to let you fucking leave. But you don’t, you have a inch of self-respect that prevents you from doing it.

“Please.”

You’ve never liked to beg, you did enough of it during your youth, begging for your mom to not leave you home alone every night, begging for things to get better, begging for your life to get better, and it had. Jordan and Leah had introduced you to a whole new world, a beautiful world, the kind of world you’d read about as a child, they’d given you anything and everything you’d wanted growing up. You’d become gracious, but promised yourself that you’d never beg in the same way that you always had, but when your life had been turned upside down, you’d reverted back to your old ways.

“I have a daughter of my own, y’know, around your age. If she was in your situation all I would care about is her being okay, that’s whats most important.”

You rolled your eyes, you were certain of one things, your moms would be mad, you were surprised they were coming at all, everyone had deserted you, it felt like you had nobody.

“Can i get something for the pain?”

You were intelligent enough to know that the iv was detoxing you at a rapid rate, whilst it was saving your life, it also meant that you were going to be sent into withdrawals a lot faster then you should have. You weren’t going to get your hands on meth, clearly. So you needed a substitute, luckily, you were currently sitting in a hospital which was filled with every single painkiller known to man.

“Good try honey, a part from the fact that your bloodstream and body couldn’t even handle a tylenol at the minute, I’m also not going to give an addict drugs, just hang in honey, the chest pain and muscle cramps should start to pass soon.”

Just as she was finishing, your eyes darted to the emergency room doors, which were now hanging open as your two moms and Lia walked through the doors.

Jordan was dressed in the same sweats she’d been in all morning, her face was red and puffy, eyes bloodshot and still full of tears.

Leah looked more put together, she had a pair of slacks on and a clean shirt, her eyes were as red as Jordan’s but she appeared to have put on more of a brave face.

Your eyes darted everywhere, looking for some kind of escape, or to stop their fast steps that were slowly getting closer to you with every millisecond that passed.

There was no hope for you.

If the drugs hadn’t killed you then your moms would.

Leah managed to cross into your makeshift room first, her eyes flashing across every inch of your body. You expected her to ask the nurse a question, or yell at you, but she didn’t.

She walked straight to your bedside, your nurse moving out of the way, and without you being aware of what was happening, wrapped her arms around your body.

You didn’t hug your moms a lot anymore.

In the start, when you’d started out with them, it had taken a lot of effort from them to make you trust them with that kind of contact, but eventually, you’d become reliant on their hugs, the shoulder pats, the little motherly touches here and there that you’d never gotten as a kid.

When they’d broken up, the hugs and contact had faded, similarly to the love in the house, it was like everything personal, everything that made Leah’s house a home had been drained.

“You’re okay, thank god you’re okay.”

Leah’s body lingered on your own body long enough for Jordan’s arms to wrap around your body on the other side of you.

You hadn’t been hugged by the both of them in over a year, you felt guilty for wishing that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that you could have this whenever you wanted. That wasn’t your life though, it wasn’t your reality, it wasn’t reality.

You let yourself relax, you knew you’d regret it when the moment ended, it’d make it that much harder to realise you couldn’t have this, but you let yourself enjoy it whilst you had it.

It lasted longer than you’d thought, it was hard, Jordan hugs were addictive. You didn’t get them a lot anymore, occasionally you’d get a hug from Leah, once every blue moon when she wanted one, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t body on body, feelings on feelings, love on love.

You didn’t know if you knew what love felt like anymore, over the years it had been distorted, you were certain that love could only be given to a person in transaction. It’s why you’d tried to be perfect, the perfect kid, the perfect student, the perfect player. You’d given up when Jordan had left, it didn’t matter anymore, there wasn’t enough love to be shared around between you and Leah. Love to you, was a privilege, not something that everyone had extra of. You had to earn love, or at keast that;s how you’d always seen it. You’d never been good enough for your own parents, that’s how you’d ended up with Jordan and Leah, from them you’d always craved that love, the love you’d never gotten and you’d been willing to do anything for it, you still were.

“We love you so much chicky, so much.”

You enjoyed the little murmurs, the little whispers in your ears that were so heartfelt and meaningful that you could feel the tears of your moms dripping down each side of your neck.

All good things come to and end, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Leah, unsurprisingly was the first to turn to your nurse.

“They didn’t tell me anything on the phone, just that we needed to come here, she’s okay?”

Your nurse nodded at your mom.

“Yes ma’am, we’re flushing her out right now. She wants to discharge herself, it’s going against medical advice but she’s free to once she’d done with her iv and she’s regained some strength.”

Jordan sat down on the bed next to you, leaving a big enough gap of space that you could still feel her presence but weren’t pressed up against her, she was listening just intently as Leah to the nurse.

“Flushing her out? Of what?”

Fuck.

You’d never ever, in your life, known Leah to not be inquisitive, she needed and wanted answers to everything, but this was worrying you. There were things you kept a secret for a reason.

“Methamphetamines, she had a pretty high amount circulating in her body. I can get the doctor to come and talk to you about it. Her body had built up a decent tolerance, she took it a lot better than you or I would. Apart from that she’s in fairly good condition, although the doctor did have some concerns about some scratches and bruises that seemed consistent with domestic or sexual abuse.”

You watched, in a series of moments, your mothers face fall more and more as the nurse kept speaking. Leah was pretty good at having a poker face, she had to for her job, she also kept a brave face for life though. You’d hardly seen a break in her resolve since her injury but right now, she was keeping nothing hidden. You felt Jordan’s body go rigid behind you as well, you knew shit was about to get real.

You considered strangling yourself with the blanket on top of you, or drowning yourself in the toilet bowl in the adjacent bathroom. It sounded better than the conversation that was about to occur.

“You’re daughter is very lucky, stupid, but lucky. Her friends ditched her at the front door, if they had of been any later she’d be in far worse condition. She was here just quick enough for us to counteract the drugs and stop them from effecting her mental cognition. Her friends shouldn’t have ditched her, or let her get that far gone, but you should be grateful they were at least smart enough to take her somewhere she could get help. I’m going to go find the doctor, he can talk to you about different option you have, and I’ll leave you guys to talk for a little bit, okay?”

Leah nodded, dumbfoundedly, trying her best to smile at the nurse as she made her way towards the exit of your room, closing the curtains and then the door.

Leah pivoted as soon as she was gone, looking down at you with so much horror and pain that you could feel it in your gut.

“Meth, bubba? You’ve been doing meth?”

The sentence hung in the air for a few seconds, filling up all of the space, you hoped that after a couple of seconds that it would disappear, like it had never been said.

“It’s not a big deal.”

You should have chosen your words more precisely, but you were finding it hard to think with all of the drug haze clouding your head.

“Not a big deal? You told me it was the vape, then it was weed, then it was coke and now iut’s fucking meth? There is nothing not big about that bubba. This isn’t just something you can do for fun, this isn’t okay, this is serious. You could die from this. You almost did. You’re 17. 17 year olds aren’t supposed to die. Why bubba? What made you want to do this, not just to yourself but to your life, to everyone. Do you know how scared your mother and I have been. The whole team has been calling up hospitals and roaming the streets looking for you. We’ve been terrified.”

Guilt was one of the best ways to make a person admit they were wrong, you knew it, you’d watched your moms manipulate each other during the break up the same way. They’d use something against the other until it spiralled into a massive fight which would end with someone sleeping at a teammates house or on the couch.

“I’m sorry, okay? Can we just go home? I want to go home.”

Another poor choice in words apparently by the look on Leah’s face.

“No we can’t just go home, we need to talk about this bubba, you overdosed on meth. You have a tolerance for it, which means you’ve been using it for a while. You have bruises and you’re in a hospital bed unable to move. You’re addicted to a drug that I would have thought you’d have absolutely no interest in. You’ve got a disease bubba, you’ve got an addiction and we’re going to work it out, we’ll fix it.”

Similar to being a control freak, Leah was also a person who wanted to fix everything. No problem was big enough for her, apparently your whole life wasn’t either.

“Mom this isn’t a disease, this isn’t like fucking cancer or something. I made a choice, I have it under control, this is my life. I’m choosing to live it this way.”

Your mom looks like she’s about to lose her shit.

“I understand that you think you have this under control and that you think this is the best way to be living your life but it fucking isn’t. I understand you’re struggling, but this isn’t okay, you’re a kid, you can;t be doing this.”

Worst thing you can tell a addict, you can’t take drugs.

Because yes you most certainly can, it’s a free motherfucking country.

“I understand what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me a bad person or any different from your or mama. You don’t like who i am anymore, not since i quit football and stopped being who you wanted me to be, I’ve changed and you have to accept that, this is me mom, this is who I am.”

Leah looked flabbergasted.

“You want me to just nod my head and accept my daughter is a junkie, right? That’s the permission you are seeking, you aren’t going to get it bubba, this isn’t anywhere near okay. This isn’t you, people change, I change, you’re allowed to be different then how you were a couple of years ago. Drugs isn’t how you change yourself, it’s not how you reinvent yourself. You can’t live your whole fucking life like this because guess what, you’ll end up dead. Addiction is a degenerative disease, it is incurable, it is deadly, it’s no fucking different from cancer and you’ve got it. I understand that, you’ve got an addiction, we’ll figure it out. I am not going to enable you to keep abusing a substance that will kill you. You’ve got a death wish and I won’t sit by and allow it to happen. I thought I was cool, I thought it was good of me to be accepting that you’re a teenager and you were going to do stupud stuff, I let you get away with much more than I should have. I’m sorry, I’m sorry that if I gave you to much space that you felt the need to do this, I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough parent to see the warning signs, but I won’t let you kill yourself bubba, not when I can stop it from happening.”

Jordan was still silent, as passive as ever, she’d always taken a backseat, the silent enabler.

“You’ve got no fucking idea what I’m going through, I’m sorry I scared you, but I don’t have to explain my actions to you, you understand nothing about what I’m dealing with.”

The first time you sweared in the presence of Leah and Jordan was your second day with them. You didn’t even know what swearing was, you’d just picked up words that had been said as you’d been growing up. You hadn’t hesitated to throw a ‘fuck’ out when you’d stubbed your foot on the kitchen bench as you’d been pouring yourself a glass of water.

You’d known something was wrong though when you’d turned around to sit back down at the table with Leah and Jordan and both of them looked like they’d seen a ghost.

You’d hardly swore after that, to your core, you were a people pleaser, you didn’t like to be in trouble, right now though it was like everything you’d grown up with was exiting your body. You felt like a monster, like a version of yourself you didn’t know and it was hard, it was really fucking hard. You didn’t want to break down, you were scared that if you were vulnerable you’d be taken advantage of again, the same way that you friends had, so you put up your won shields.

“I don’t need to know what you’re going through to know that this isn’t good. We’ll get you into rehab, we’ll get you clean, we’re here for you, right Jords?”

You could feel Jordan nodding from behind you.

“I’m not going to rehab, fuck no.”

Leah was pacing, it was what she did when she was stressed, it was a clear tell.

“So, I’m just supposed to allow you back into my house, knowing that you’ve been hiding an addiction from me for months, trust that my drug addicted child will stay clean on her own account and be willing to go through withdrawals and not give in to her own addiction. Do you think I don’t love you, is that it? Because right now you’re telling me that I am expected to allow my daughter to use drugs, lethal drugs that almsot killed her, under my roof, allow you to live your life as you want it, and leave you alone. As a person who loves you and has loved your for the past 9 years of your life, are you actually hearing what you are saying?”

Love.

It was a curious thing, your mother thought she loved you, or at least she felt like she did. Ut was funny how to you, you felt the exact opposite way.

“So what you’re doing this to show me you love me or something? Reality check, you haven’t given a fucking shit about me in months, it’s all about Lia, all about your knee. I’m not selfish enough to expect that you can focus on me whilst your recovering but don’t try and act like you’ve been loving and caring about me this whole time when you haven’t.”

Leah sits herself down, she can only handle so long on her feet nowadays.

“Maybe you should coem stay with me, come to rehab in Birmingham. Bubba, your mom is still struggling.”

You’re more than shocked to hear Jordan pipe up, it reignites something else in you.

“No you don’t get to have a fucking say. You left me, you don’t text anymore, you don’t call. I’m only your kid when it’s convenient for you, which is about 10 days every year. You don’t even try with me, you washed your hands of me a year ago and you don’t get to come back now. You gave me up.”

Your sick of being the understanding one, sick of being the one everybody could burden with their problems, sick of being the fucking scapegoat in every situation.

“Look kid, i think you need to have some more respect for your mothers.”

Lia.

Fucking Lia and her audacity and her fucking butting into all of your family problems.

“No you don’t get a fucking say, you move in a couple of months ago to support my mom and all of a sudden your my third fucking parent. You’ve got nothing to do with me, You don’t get to have a say in anything, you aren’t apart of this fucking family.”

Leah looked like she was having about 30 wars with herself inside of her head, like she was struggling to figure out which side of her brain she should side with.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, you need to be respectful to Lia.”

You were sick of everybody telling you that you had to respect people, that you had to follow fucking rules. They wondered why you’d spiralled.

“No, fuck this, fuck you, fuck jordan, fuck everything. I made a series of decisions, ones that I am happy with, this is how I am living my life.”

Leah took a deep breath, before turning to face you.

It was hard looking at her eye to eye, you were putting her through a lot right now, and a part of you deep down felt bad about it. You didn’t want to make your mom feel in pain, you didn’t want her to suffer, it was the last thing you wanted. Without her, you’d be as good as nothing, you’d have absolutely nothing. But you were lashing out, you were as frantic as your sore chest and pumping heart would let you be.

“Bubba. You don’t seen what’s wrong. I do, Jordan and I are sitting here talking to a girl that we don’t know. This isn’t our daughter, this isn’t the girl we’ve raised. You’re going to go to rehab, you’re going to detox, you’re going to get properly clean and once you are we’ll have this conversation again, see if you have a different perspective.”

You didn’t want to have this conversation when you were clean, you wanted to have it now.

“No. If you gave a shit about me, like you’re acting to, you wouldn’t have fucking broken up in the first place. You wouldn’t have torn my life apart, you wouldn’t have done this to me. You wouldn’t have stopped cring about me, you wouldn’t have stopped loving me. Let me go, let me leave. You fucking did this to me and if you want to make it up to me you’ll let me leave.”

You saw Leah’s face fall to another level.

“I can’t do that bubba.”

You felt like you were spinning out of control, like you were in a car that had just fallen over a cliff, and you were slowly doing flip after flip as the car catapulted towards the rocks at the bottom.

“Mom, just let me leave, let me go, please mom, let me leave, let me fucking leave.”

Leah just shook her head at you.

“Bubba, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, it might not ever. I know me and your mom breaking up was hard for you, you didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry for that, but neither of us could handle keeping you in a household without love, and I know it’s different now, I’m so sorry for that, I wish we could go back. But we can’t, me and your mom don’t love each other more, we can’t just love each other. We love you though, we love you more then anything else. We would both pick you above anybody in the world, you’re our beautiful little girl, you’re our girl. You’ll never not be our daughter. We chose you years ago and we would choose you again today, everyday, for the rest of our lives. No matter what you do.”

There are big tears dripping down your moms face, you’ve seen her cry plenty in your life, Leah Williamson is known to be an emotional person, but not like this, not with this much anguish and pain in her face, never like this.

“You don’t love me, you can’t fucking love me, I’m not like either of you. I break people apart, I’m a catalyst, everywhere I go, I tear people a part, I wreck their lives. I wrecked my parents, I wrecked you guys relationship, I wrecked my own life. I’m a fucking semi-truck that bulldozes through peoples lives, just let me leave and you guys can be happy again.”

Leah takes a double take, her fists are white from how hard they are holding onto the arms of the chair she’s sat in. You’re surprised she doesn’t yell back at you, but instead of meeting your aggression with an equal amount, she composes herself.

“Bubba, do you know how much I love you, how much your mama and I love you? If you could take all of the words in the english language, it still wouldn’t be enough to describe how much we love you. And if you could gather all of those words together, it still wouldn’t be enough. What we feel for you is everything. I love you more than everything. You don’t pull people a part, you’ve made your mama and I happier than we ever would have been without you. You light up our lives everyday, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but just seeing you everyday is my biggest achievement, it’s the best part of my day. Seeing you grow up to be the person Jord and I raised will forever be the best part of my life. You didn’t tear us apart, if anything you were what kept us together for so long, because being around you made us both so happy, that all of our problems didn’t matter as much. Eventually it was too much though, it had nothing to do with you, it never will, it never did. You’re the light in our life, you are our whole universe. We just want you to be okay, you don’t have to be who you were, people change, but you need to be okay. You’re not okay right now, there isn’t anything wrong with that, it’s okay to not be okay, but me and your mama will find you help if you don’t seek it our yourself. You need to go to rehab, you can’t live your life like this, it isn’t sustainable. Drugs ruin peoples lives. I don’t need to throw stats at you for you to understand the magnitude of drug related deaths, because that’s how this will end, with you dead. You’ve been through so much bubba, you’re so strong, but you don’t always have to be strong, you’re allowed to break down, you’re allowed to have bad days. But drugs isn’t a way to fix that, it’s not a safe coping mechanism, you can’t rely on drugs to solve every problem that you have. You need to get clean. We love you so much, our beautiful girl.”

Everything hurts, your heart, your head, your body. Your eyes and head aren’t clear, it’s like there is a fuzzy haze covering everything, but you believe what Leah is telling you, she’s telling you the honest truth, and you can’t deny that.

[whxre-bxby]

ur def my fav recom writer🥲🥲🥲, no one writes the way u write and ur anons leave the best ideas😫😫😫🤭🤭🤭

Thank you! I'll try to keep it up :)

Recom Mansk x Recom f. Y/N

"A Different Kind Of Warmth"

Masterlist

Summary: Mansk and Y/N survive the final battle on the sinking ship and escape. Both are lost in the forest and as night falls, the cold reaches their skin. To warm up, they huddle for warmth but Mansk has a hard time containing his rising feelings.

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, death, near-death experience, fluff, breeding kink, penetration, soft/sub Mansk

Word Count: 9426

When I woke up as a recom, I had hope for life. The new body, new attitude and new mission had me thinking we had a chance to win this time. Boy, was I wrong.

The S-79 SeaDragon was going down, slowly becoming submerged by water. The water I was struggling in. I was on the lower deck along with the Colonel and a few other soldiers when all hell broke loose. The recom team was being taken down one by one and soon enough everyone was fending for themselves. I had been knocked into the water by falling heavy equipment and was now holding onto the railing on the side of the huge ship. It was tilted and sinking and I knew it wouldn’t keep me above the surface for long.

I didn’t know where to go or what to do. Climbing back up on deck and looking for Sully was suicide. Drowning sounded better to me than getting an axe to the head or an arrow in my side. 

I didn’t plan on swimming for much longer. Everyone was dead and I didn’t know how to get back to Bridgehead. The feeling of being alone started to drown me more than the water and my heart ached as I tried making a list in my head of who could still be alive. I just saw 3 of us die. Meaning that maybe Lyle was alive. I don’t know where Quaritch is and I haven’t seen Mansk. I know Z-Dog is down, along with Prager. Lopez and Ja died a few hours earlier. 

The rail I was holding was now fully submerged in the ocean’s water and I was standing on it until I couldn’t feel it beneath me anymore. My legs and arms were sore from swimming and I felt myself growing weaker. I was turning around, looking for any available platform I could cling to or land but everything was either sinking or too far away. The SeaDragon was slowly tipping over and its side was coming down over me. I was ready to let the deck just drown me and pull me down but suddenly a huge splash erupted next to me. I gasp, turning around to see what it was and then I recognised an Avatar’s head breaking through the surface and gasping for air. It was Mansk and his wide eyes met my own. 

I sigh in relief, letting my eyes flutter closed for a few seconds as I realise I’m not about to be killed by a Na’vi. 

“Y/N?” he asked breathlessly, fighting to keep his head above water. I frantically nod, swimming over to him a bit. 

“Yeah.” I gasp, coughing some water out of my lungs. He nods, seeming relieved by my presence. At least we weren’t alone. 

“Did you see anyone else?” I ask, searching around us again. Mansk weakly shakes his head ‘no’ and I sigh. He turned around, not seeming as lost as me.

I feel glad that he seemed to have a plan. I was going to just swim in the same spot until I drown but now I had a reason to stay alive. 

He leads the way, swimming away from the ship and I follow, feeling too weak to question where we are going. Or where he was going. I didn’t want to stay behind. 

Mansk seemed to have more strength than me. I had been swimming for almost half an hour so I was struggling to keep up. 

He was faster and I was slightly panicking internally, hoping he wouldn’t leave me behind.

Mansk and I were mutual friends I guess. We knew we were on the same side and that we could rely on each other but I never had a proper conversation with him. He was very distant around people. 

He turned around in the water, noticing you weren’t as close behind as he hoped. His movements in the water stopped proceeding forward as he watched you swim to him, noticing your movements and stamina falter. Mansk’s heart was racing and adrenaline was rushing through his veins from the battle. In the back of his mind, he wondered whether anyone else was alive. Either way, he had you now and he couldn’t let anything happen to either of you. Clearly, you had been struggling for longer than him so he needed to help you get to land. 

Mansk’s arm reached out for mine, pulling me to him and my eyes opened at the contact. Since I last saw him so far from me, my heart dropped at the feeling of being touched and I dreaded it to be something from the ocean. Luckily it was Mansk and he scanned over me with a worried expression. 

I tasted blood in my mouth and felt it coming from my nose. 

I hold on to his vest, coughing again after nearly choking on more salty water. My tired eyes were closing and my legs were no longer able to push me as far as before. 

“Almost there.” he said, stretching his left arm under my arms to keep me stable. 

His voice took me by surprise. He had spoken a few times but I still couldn’t remember what he sounded like because it was so rare. Mansk spoke in a deep tone, sounding hoarse from the fight. 

I nod while gasping for air and he realises he’s running out of time with me. His ears strain back against his head and he tightens his grip around me to not lose me. 

Mansk starts swimming again, pulling me with him while my legs and arms try to boost me forwards and up weakly. 

All my muscles hurt and I couldn’t properly swim anymore. 

Mansk clenched his jaw, not tearing his eyes away from the targeted land he had found. He was going to get you both there alive. His arms started slicing through the water as he pulled you behind him by your vest. He wasn’t going to leave you, he was going to make it there so he used all the strength he had in him to do so. 

I felt like I was going to pass out and suddenly, the arm pulling me through the water let go of me. My body stilled and I soon realised I was sinking down. The noise of the loud crashing waves stilled as water filled my ears and everything went quiet. No more splashing or creaking from the sinking boat. Just a faint ringing in my ears and my heartbeat which I felt pounding in my ears and in the back of my head. I faintly open my eyes, staring up at the water's surface, noticing the small bubbles from my nose push upwards in a squiggly line. It seems so close yet so agonisingly difficult to reach. As if it were teasing my bodies strength, in a cruel test of agility and strength. 

The weighty resistance on my chest prevented me from gasping for air and as I slowly sunk, I felt myself be distanced from life more and more. The life I didn’t actually ask for but the one I was ordered to have. A life in an artificial body of the species I was hunting to kill. 

My already weakened limbs seem to be moving in slow motion as I search for something to hold on to and pull me up, but I’m surrounded by endless amounts of heavy and dark water, threatening to force its way into my body and fill me up until I become one with the ocean. The passing seconds of time seem to strain and stretch into eternity as my need for air makes me dizzy. Once again I felt alone and abandoned. My memories were blurred together and I wasn’t even sure whether I had seen Mansk at all. Perhaps I had been drowning this entire time and was only imagining being saved by him while I drifted in and out of consciousness. Maybe everyone really was dead and I was now the last one to go. 

My chest felt as though it was going to burst and the natural instinct to breathe overpowered my reasonability and I desperately attempted to inhale and draw in air when it was clear there was none. The liquid seeped into my lungs making me feel heavier as I sunk and moved with the waves. The uncomfortable feeling made terror shoot through my weak body as I started to realise that my time was running out. Thinking of death when one is safe doesn’t seem threatening but now I was maybe just minutes away from everything I had ever experienced coming to an end. It was fastly approaching and helplessness spurred me on to struggle and swim to the surface. 

My vision blurs like my thoughts and I notice my state of panic vanish. The light around me fades along with the chaos as I float in an eery haze of calmness and stillness.

Suddenly, my heart seems to reboot out of shock. I hear a muffled yet crashing noise above me and light rays shine down on my luminescent blue skin as the surface of the water breaks. Bubbles break out in the targeted area, hiding the object causing the surface to ripple. Then, a hand pushes through the surface and grabs onto my vest, making me realise I wasn’t that deep in the water. My mouth opens from the habit to gasp and the last remaining large bubbles of oxygen leave my lips. The arm pulls my still body up and within seconds I feel much heavier again. Water is no longer engulfing me and my movements are not as restricted. My legs and arms scrape against a hard rock when suddenly I feel steady ground beneath me. 

Mansk had reached the shore and climbed it so that he could pull me on it after him. He had reached the top of the flat rock and turned around to help me up when he noticed I was no longer there. Panic washed over him as his wide eyes hastily searched the water for my body and he spotted it beneath the waves. Without hesitation, Mansk leaned forwards and hurriedly fished for one of my limbs to be able to help me up. Relief calmed him when he gripped onto me and his arms tugged me away from the edge of the water and next to him on the ground.

I hurled myself forward, quickly scanning my surroundings and faintly realising I was on land and with Mansk. Laying on my belly while my back arched uncomfortably, I desperately coughed up all the heavy water I had taken in. My lungs hurt and my body ached while I propped myself up on my elbows and gasped for air between coughs and chokes. Mansk leaned forwards, also breathing heavily and laid his hand on my back while I struggled to breathe again.

My hands were pressed flat against the wet rock as I regained my senses, trying to calm my breathing. I allowed myself to close my eyes from exhaustion for a few seconds before looking at Mansk. 

“Mansk-” I whimper with red eyes and a trembling voice. 

He saw the fear in my eyes and instantly felt responsible and blameworthy for the situation I was just in. What was just a few seconds or a minute to him seemed like ages to my previously submerged self. 

But I was just grateful to be alive with him. I wanted to somehow express my feelings of appreciation for his help even though it was the bare minimum but my mind was still a mess. Maybe give him a hug or tell him a few heartfelt words but I knew that all that would barely scratch the surface of the depth of my feelings. I had too many emotions surging through me. 

“You okay?” he asked, knowing I could obviously be better. He just wanted to make sure I wasn’t too traumatised or maybe I had a wound he didn’t know about. 

It takes me a few seconds to answer because I just recently wanted to cry for help. In contrast, now I nodded my head slowly. 

“Yeah. Are you?” I ask, stumbling forwards on my knees slightly and leaning against him. 

He catches me by my shoulders and props me up straight while I feel around his torso for wounds. 

The desperation of my actions warms his heart when he realises there could be a chance of me truly caring about him.

“Yeah.” he replies, his voice scruffy. I scan over him to make sure and then nod, leaning back on my feet. Neither of us was okay. We were far from it. But we weren’t dying anymore. And as marines and in the military, you are okay as long as you’re alive and not being held at gunpoint. 

The weight of the situation started to sink in as I turned around on the rock and faced the almost fully sunken ship. Mansk watched it too and it made us both feel uneasy. Our friends that we’ve known for years were on there. Their dead bodies were probably sinking in the water while he sat up here and watched. Almost instantly I felt guilty. There must have been a way I could have helped them but I didn’t and now there was nothing I could do. 

I press down on the call in my throat. “Does anyone copy?” I ask, hoping one of our team members will reply. Mansk presses his own and listens in but the line is dead. No one replies and my heart sinks to my stomach. 

Without me noticing my breaths grew heavy and unsteady again and my nose twitched, providing me with the sign that tears were forming in my eyes. 

Mansk sat a little behind me, letting the harsh reality sink in while I refused to accept it and still searched to see if anyone was swimming or moving. But there was nothing. The action was gone and suddenly, the world felt dystopian and scary. 

Both of us were drenched, sitting in the puddles of water that drained and trickled from our clothes and attire. 

We sit in silence for a while. Both of our minds are too full of thoughts and feelings we need time to reorganise them and come back to our senses. 

I come to the conclusion that we can’t stay here but I also realise we have no way of getting back. The communication pieces on our necks and in our ears were damaged and even if our Ikrans found us we wouldn’t know the way back to Bridghead. 

I slowly turn around to Mansk. He looks like he’s going to be sick. Being abandoned and alone on a foreign planet surrounded by dangerous and unknown creatures is not something the military can prepare a soldier for. We also knew that every Na’vi we encountered from now on would not hesitate to kill us for the destruction and devastation we caused. I didn’t even blame them for it. 

The scene of the sinking SeaDragon showed me how disastrous and fatal our actions were. To me, the fallen soldiers and warriors from both sides are a haunting sight. I can spot a few bodies motionlessly floating in the water or stretched along the wreckage. The cost of war on this planet didn’t seem worth it. From that battle of hell, Mansk and I had survived. But we were not victorious. What I was looking at was not victory. We were defeated survivors, left to fend for ourselves in a world that resented us. 

“What do we do now?” I ask, wondering whether he might have a plan to get us out of here. Mansk’s eyes were unfocused, emotionlessly staring at the wreck in the ocean but my voice drew him from his thoughts and back to reality. He stared at me, opening his mouth in an attempt to say something before closing it again. 

He didn’t know. Both of us were helpless. But what was clear was that we couldn’t stay here, drenched in clothes that symbolised our side of the war. 

The eclipse was almost over and the sky grew darker. 

“Come.” he said and I watched him get up before forcing myself off the ground with the remaining strength I had. Yep, he wasn’t much of a talker.

But I could trust him and I knew he was thinking like me. We needed shelter to survive the night and freezing on a wet rock is not the way to do it. So we headed to the forest. This was common sense, especially for Marines. 

Mansk walked slightly ahead of me while I limped after him. Our guns were useless and gone so we were left with only our daggers. I had a knife and Mansk had one of Lyle’s machetes. 

We left the coast behind, warily walking into the deadly forest which still haunted us from experiences in both our lives. 

The light of day had now vanished, and the trees further dimmed our surroundings. But our new bodies enabled us to see clearly in the dark. 

I was moving forward with a hand on my hip in pain while my head was dropped and my eyes weak. It was only then that I started to notice the grass become luminous beneath my feet. 

My ears perked forwards and I looked around, noticing the colour and the light of the forests of Pandora at night. The beauty of it entranced me, making me forget the hate we were told we should have for this world. Despite its dangers, the forest was magical and it lured us deeper in. Oddly, I felt connected to it in some way. Forgetting the harm I had just caused, I felt drawn to the trees. Perhaps my body was trying to persuade my mind to switch sides again. It happened before. This blue Avatar wanted me to naturalise here but my willpower was stronger. 

My eyes shoot up and I scan over Mansk. He seems inattentive to the surrounding lights and colours. Sometimes, I feel like he sees the world in black and white because he never sympathises with things. No matter what beautiful sight of Pandora you would show him, Mansk would not fall into its trap. Not that he was fighting his will, he just genuinely disliked this planet. 

Mansk was walking at my speed so that I wouldn’t fall behind and his arms smoothly swung as he held the machete. He had used it to cut the path free from plants but now the large leaves had vanished. I noticed how tense he looked. His ears were tipped back but his tail was still. He lost his shades because they weren’t on his head as usual. My eyes drifted over him while I completely spaced out from reality. The long-sleeved uniform he wore suited him. It would be unlike Mansk to walk around in a tank top or something similar to Quaritch’s attire. I never understood why but I didn’t question it. At least he wasn’t as oddly self-obsessed as many others. His vest emphasized his broad torso which evidently slimmed down at his waist and the cloth around his arms strained a little through the muscle. Mansk was lean and I found myself admiring him which I had done once or twice before. It embarrassed me to think of him like this because I wanted to be professional but then I would remind myself that our team really wasn’t professional. Sure, around people ranking higher than us yes. The Colonel too, but between us many acted like teenagers. Not just Lyle.

My eyes mindlessly continue to stare at him and he seems to feel them, turning around and glancing at me. Our eyes lock and suddenly I don’t know what to do so I quickly avert my gaze back to the ground before letting it flicker to the many plants. He keeps his eyes on me for a few more seconds, examining me himself before turning back to the front. My heartbeat picked up its pace even though he showed me no emotion and my thoughts were scattered. That’s why I was once again not paying attention and I bumped into him as he stopped. 

Mansk glanced over his shoulder and his ears perked as he watched you recover from thumping into him before looking away again. He smiled to himself. Not a big smile, just the corners of his mouth lifted in slight amusement and his tail flicked. But he wouldn’t let you see, so he quickly hid his emotions with his neutral and unbothered expression.

I rubbed my forehead and my ears drooped in embarrassment. Mansk hadn’t even been nudged forward through my actions, it felt like hitting a brick wall. 

“How ‘bout there?” he asked and instantly my attention devoted itself to him and his voice. My ears twitch forward and I step out from behind him to let my eyes follow where he is looking. It’s a larger tree and it looked dead. Perhaps it had been hit by lightning at some point but what was attractive to us was the fact that it had fallen over halfway onto another tree creating a type of shelter. I looked around, noticing there was a grass patch surrounding it and we could stand beneath the fallen trunk in the case of rain. 

While you’re scanning the place, Mansk’s eyes are fixed on you. His ears finally let loose from being flattened back and move forward slightly as he eyes your facial features, taking note of your luminescent patterns, your nervously twitching ears and nose. His stern gaze softens for the first time in a few hours. You had been walking for a while and he only let his mask of steel falter and slip up when you were battling the water. 

The way your eyes sparkled in the lights of the night had him unable to take his eyes off of you for a few extra seconds. 

I turned to look up at him and he almost flinched away. His ears immediately pinned back and his tail froze. His retreating actions startled me and I waited a few seconds before answering. 

“Let’s check it out.” I say softly, choosing to lead the way for a change. 

Mansk watches me start to walk to the tree. He lets his hands rest on his waist as he drops and shakes his head lightly before following me. 

He should feel endangered and worried but somehow you’re presence distracted him from the horrors you both had just witnessed and you were all he could think about.

I walk beneath the tree, running my hand over the dried-up bark. It was stable and the ground felt soft to my bare feet. 

Mansk reaches me, turning around and scanning over the place. I stand still for a few moments in thought before a shiver runs over me and I notice I’m hugging myself for warmth. 

We were still wearing our drenched clothes and they were keeping our skin moist and cold and had our clothes stick to it. 

Mansk turns around to me and I nod a few times in approval of the place before starting to unstrap my vest. The water made it feel heavier.

He felt cold too and noticed what I was doing so he followed. A strap was stuck because the plastic was busted so I cut a part of it open, discarding the useless material on the ground. My tank top followed, which I had to peel from my skin because it was still soaked. I pulled it over my head and started wrenching and twisting the water out of the cloth and onto the ground. 

Mansk slightly turned away from me and was doing the same with his coat.

My legs were freezing so I started opening my belt. I then moved against the side of the tree and sat down so I could strip the cold pants off. I sighed, rubbing my forehead again out of exhaustion before throwing them onto my pile of clothes. 

I sat cross-legged on the grass in my underwear. Luckily it wasn’t too revealing. The sports bra could count as a top and my underwear was the length of tight shorts. 

Mansk had taken his top clothes off, holding them in his hand and he kept his cammies on. He turned to you and noticed your bare skin but he turned his head away not wanting you to feel uncomfortable. He also wanted to stay focused on somehow getting back to Bridgehead and looking at you would not help him concentrate. 

He sat down next to me but kept his distance. Mansk seemed unsure of the situation. He’d never been in this position before. 

I glanced at him, also quickly tearing my eyes away in case he would notice me staring again. My hands were around my braid which carried water in the hair and I was trying to squeeze it out. 

We sat in comfortable silence and I winced, letting out a squeak of pain when I twisted my queue too harshly. 

Mansk’s eyes flickered to me at the noise and he watched what I was doing. We were still getting used to the body and I’ve never had to drain water from my Kuru cord yet. 

The RDA told us we didn’t have to shower because Na’vi don’t sweat the same way humans do. 

I look at him and this time he doesn’t cower away. Mansk kept his pants on and his cord wet. The perfect way of getting sick. The water from his queue was drizzling down his bare torso. 

I start opening my braid, carefully untangling the hair so that I could squeeze the water out of it without hurting myself. Mansk is still subtly watching me. 

“You should do it too. Otherwise, it’ll hurt you tomorrow.” I say, glancing back at him. Mansk ears perk forward at my words and he stays still for a few moments before looking at the braid resting over his shoulder. Using words to answer was rarely deemed necessary for him. 

He slowly mirrors my movements and unsurely removes the hair tie before opening the braid. Our hair was thick and I knew it felt odd for him because he was used to having his hair buzzed short his entire life. His hands clumsily untangle the Kuru from our hair and I can tell it’s the first time he’s doing something like this. Mansk looks over at me to see how I’m drying mine, his lost and confused eyes trying to find answers. 

I smile to myself, only opening it halfway because the water had seeped to the lower strands of hair and was dry on my scalp. 

Once I was done, I leaned back against the bark, slumping my shoulders while re-braiding my hair around my queue. It took me a while to figure out how to keep it in the centre of the strands but eventually, it worked. When I finished I glanced over at Mansk who had almost opened his entire braid and had his fingers tangled in hair. 

He was helpless. 

“You need help?” I ask, biting my lip to suppress giggles. He glances at me in defeat and looks embarrassed that he can’t get it back together. 

“Yeah.” He softly replies, removing his hands from his hair. I walk over to him on my knees and sit behind him. 

“I don’t know how to braid.” He mumbles, sitting with his knees bent and torso leaned forward. 

I run my fingers through the hair to straighten them out before separating them into three strands. 

“I can teach you if you’d like.” I say, tilting my head to the side to look at him in case he decides to turn around and glance at me but Mansk stays still. 

“Nah, it’s fine.” he replies, his voice quiet but still gravelly. My ears droop as my hope dies down. He should learn how to do it because he’ll be stuck with his queue until he dies. But I’m not going to push him. 

My fingers start braiding away, gently holding his cord in place as I try my best to cover it with hair from all sides. Whenever I brush my fingers against the Kuru, I glance at him to make sure he’s all right and he is. Mansk looks unfazed to me.

You couldn’t see over his back. Mansk had his fists tightly closed and his body was tense. You two had never been so close before. He hadn’t been like this with anyone and he never planned on it but with the situation you two were in, Mansk had to push himself a little. He would never let anyone braid his hair. The idea seemed stupid and pathetic to him but weirdly, he trusted you enough to do it right and not mock him for not knowing how to. But you touching him like that had its downsides. Mansk forced himself to suppress shivers every time your fingers held his queue or grazed his back. He was nervous and the feeling felt almost threatening to him because Mansk never felt that way. 

Another cold shiver ran through my body and I tried curling myself up into a ball while finishing his braid. My tail was wrapped around my waist and my fingers were trembling. 

Mansk must have felt it and he looked over his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” I say, trying to suppress the frigid chills washing over me. “ It’s cold as fuck.” I add with a breathy laugh, trying to lighten the mood. 

I knew he was quiet but I never had to deal with it one on one because we were always with the team. His silence had my thoughts running wild and I had to fight myself to not keep trying to fill it. 

Mansk gives me the faintest nod and faces forwards again and I want to face-palm myself. For a few seconds, I wondered whether that was all the reply I would get from him. 

“Are your clothes dry?” he then asks and my drooped ears twitch forwards and my eyes brighten. 

“No. Still wet.” I say, looking over at my pile before returning my focus to his hair and tying the end with the hair tie. 

“Here, it’s done.” My hands lift his braid and I place it over his shoulder so that he can see. 

Mansk examines it with interested eyes. “Thanks.” He quietly replies and I nod, sitting back down against the tree. This time I was slightly close to him. 

I pull in my legs, hugging my knees and curling my trembling tail around me before resting my chin on my legs. Perhaps we could make a fire but I was too exhausted to go and look for firewood and attempt to start it. I knew Mansk was too. 

Mansk leaned back against the bark now too and the corners of his eyes caught the movement of your shivering frame, directing his attention back to you. Not that it ever left. Mansk wished he could give you his coat if it were dry but it wasn’t. He’d also much rather be wearing more himself. 

I was brought back to the dreadful images of the shipwreck as the silence faded the reality around me. While my arms clutched my legs tightly I slowly rocked back and forth to try and keep me a little warmer. It also helped me calm down. My eyes were unfocused and I was staring in front of me with wide and blank eyes. I was so absentminded that I hadn’t noticed Mansk’s movements. 

I felt something on my back and flinched in shock. Mansk quickly drew back his hand and looked at my confused expression. 

I sighed and dropped my head down, feeling relieved that I was here and not in the water. 

He had moved closer to me and we were seated right next to one another now. I tried calming my breathing again when Mansk repeatedly gently placed his hand on my back. He could tell I was having a hard time digesting what happened today so I guess this was his way of comforting me. I didn’t mind it. In fact, I pushed into the feeling of the palm of his hand. It was warm against my skin and I felt him radiate body heat against me. 

I look up at him and give him a soft smile and he returns it for once before looking down at his legs. 

His hand really did comfort me and I was forcing myself to stay seated upright and not just fall into him. 

My eyes were fluttering closed because I felt tired but I couldn’t get anywhere near sleeping when I was this cold. They shot open when Mansk’s shivered and I felt his hand twitch. There was no doubt about it. We were both cold. 

My head once again lifts and I look at him and his posture, wondering whether I can just lean into him. He lifts his head from having it leaned back against the tree and our eyes meet.

“Is it okay if I lean against you?” I ask with half-lidded eyes. I felt tired and I didn’t mind asking anymore. If he says no I’ll just tip to the other side and try to sleep.

Mansk seemed surprised by my words but I had a feeling he was thinking of the same thing. It was chilly and we could stay warm if we shared our body heat. I couldn’t feel my warmth but he could and vice versa. 

His perked ears of interest now leaned back as he attempted to answer.

“Uh-” Mansk swallowed nervously as I stared up at him.  “Yeah, sure.” He said, internally cursing himself for stuttering. 

I smile and scoot a little closer. Mansk lifts his arm up as I move under it and then I just lean my upper body into his, lying against his side. My body relaxes with the feeling of his warmth and I hum in appreciation. 

He stays still for a few seconds, not daring to even breathe. Then he slowly lowers his arm and unsurely rests it around my shoulder. 

My head is resting against the side of his chest and I discover how comfortable Mansk feels. 

I push my legs a little closer to his frame all while he watches from above and my arm loosely drapes around his middle. 

Yep, that’ll do. If we’re still stuck here tomorrow night then Mansk will become my regular bed. 

He slowly eases himself against me, trying to relax his tense body. The skin-to-skin contact was something he hadn’t felt in ages and it was electrifying to him. Mansk would never give nor receive physical affection. The most he would do with his friends were handshakes and knuckle bumps or a pat on the back. He hadn’t given anyone a hug in years so to receive something like this had his heartbeat racing and Mansk prayed you wouldn’t feel it. 

The tip of his tail was wagging and lightly thumping against the ground so Mansk rested his free hand on it to stop the movements. He didn’t want you to know about what a nervous wreck he had become since you both sat down.

My eyes were growing heavy but then I noticed something new. Mansk’s scent or more like his musk seemed to grow stronger. I wondered whether I was inhaling too deeply but I wasn’t. My eyes close again as I decide to brush it off. My head nudges his side as I move it to my comfort and now my ear is flatly pressed against his skin. Within seconds I can hear thumping and it doesn’t take me long to realise it’s his heartbeat and it’s fast.

I’m wide awake again, wondering about what was happening to him. Maybe he was afraid and was remembering the sinking ship, or he was in a painful position but didn’t want to wake me? Perhaps he felt sick. 

I slowly lift myself up, rubbing an eye before looking up at him. 

Mansk’s ears are drooped to the side and his eyes are wide as he watches your movements, dreading to hear you ask him why he’s so tense. When you look up at him his heart stops beating in fear and he freezes. 

“Are you okay?” I ask but he refuses to meet my eyes or answer. 

My head drops forward and I rub my other eye while thinking about what to do because he was silent.

“If it’s uncomfortable then I can move back and you- can…” I say, opening my eyes before I stop mid-sentence. While rubbing the sleep from them, my head was coincidentally pointed to his abdomen and as I opened my eyes, they were met with the least expected sight. 

I shut up and my lips are slightly parted in surprise as I just stare down at his pants with wide eyes. His cammies are strained in his crotch area and I can see that Mansk has an erection. 

To his horror, he can see that you’ve noticed what he’s been trying to hide and suppress. Everything seemed to be coming crashing down on him and he wished he could sink into the ground in shame. 

You two worked together, he didn’t want you to think of him as some pervert. He also really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

While Mansk was cursing and hating himself I just kept staring. It took me longer than it should have to figure out that he got so worked up because of how close I was to him. 

“You could have just told me, you know?” I say, grinning up at him and Mansk is torn out of his destructive thoughts by the sound of my voice. 

Once again he is speechless. He was expecting to be insulted or scolded by you. Not that he could picture you doing that, he oddly couldn’t. But a positive reaction wasn’t even on his radar of possible outcomes. 

I fully turn around to face him. He’s staring at me with wide eyes while I drink in his flushed face of embarrassment and bare torso.

“You need some help with that?” I ask, tilting my head in a playful way so that he would get the memo. 

He was starstruck in utter disbelief. 

“What?” he asked, his voice sounding even more hoarse but this time it trembled.  He was too stunned to regret sounding nervous. 

“I need to know. Yes or no? I don’t want to cross your boundaries but I can help you out.” I say, wanting to make it clear that I’m fine with this. 

He can’t answer, his voice seems unreachable to him. 

I decide to rid him of any doubtful questions in his head so I lean forward and trace the tattoo on his chest, making him shiver. 

“Mansk. Do you want me?” I say, keeping my teasing grin. Who would have known that a big and serious man like him could fall apart so easily? 

His mouth is lightly hanging open and he doesn’t even think his answer through because he feels too drawn to you and the moment you two are having. Mansk slightly nods his head even though a voice in the back of his head still has him secretly fearing you would suddenly walk away. 

“Use your words.” I whisper, leaning in a little closer and he couldn’t care less about being told what to do. 

“I want you.” he answers in a raspy voice and I notice how dilated with lust his pupils have become. 

Mansk never takes orders from anyone but his superiors. Meaning he’d follow Quaritch and often Lyle, but rarely would he listen to others. Not because he was rude but because he didn’t like being told what to do by people who weren’t qualified to give orders. 

My sneaky smile turns into a grin again and I shift forwards, moving my legs over his own so that I was straddling his lap. Mansk moved his arms out of the way, still watching me in disbelief. To further enlighten his burdening thoughts, I reach to his neck and gently tug at his dog tag while moving my face close to his. 

I watch him and his eyes keep flickering between mine before they fixate on my lips. Our warm breaths are fanning against the other and our noses brush. I want him to initiate the kiss to make sure I’m not taking advantage of his desperate state. My free hand rests on his chest, stroking over his pec and feeling up his bare skin. 

Mansk can’t take it anymore and he fills the gap between both your lips by leaning forward and catching your mouth with his. 

My heart seems to skip a beat in excitement and I immediately kiss him back, melting against his touch. My hands are all over his torso and soon I notice how he keeps his at his sides. 

He was relishing in the feeling of having you so close to him. A big part of him needed this for a long time. Now the void in him was finally being filled and Mansk was afraid of doing something wrong so he didn’t touch you until you would tell him to.

I pull away, keeping one of my hands on his cheek as I smile in adoration. He was cute like this. His cheeks were burning up while his big eyes watched me attentively. My eyes search for his hands and I pick one up, guiding it to my waist. Mansk supports my movements, gripping and feelings my waist and hips in a way that told me he greatly needed this. 

“This is one way of keeping us warm.” I tease while his hands feel up my barely covered body. 

His eyes shoot up to me and he looks down with a small smile when he notices I’m teasing him. 

I decide to speed things up because my back is cold and I’m looking forward to the warm aftercare just as much as the actual sex. I lean back, sitting down on his groin which makes him shakily exhale. My hands then attach to the moist cloth of my sports bra and I pull it over my head. 

Mansk looks awestruck as his hazy eyes admire my chest.

“Touch me.” I whisper and in the next second, Mansk is cupping and massaging my breast. I sigh in soft pleasure, tilting my body so that my chest is pushed further out for him. 

Mansk wants to feel me closer so he wraps his arms around my waist and gently pulls me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck while he buries his face in my one, pressing his nose against the side of my throat and deeply inhaling my scent. 

I start feeling needy so I slowly roll my hips forward, grinding down on him. My actions make Mansk draw in a sharp breath and I feel his grip on me tighten. 

I continue and am able to feel all of him pressing against me. His dick twitches in his pants and I gasp when my clothed clit brushes against the side of him. 

Mansk’s ears are trained on me and longingly listen to every noise I make. 

I no longer want clothes to separate our bodies so I quickly press a kiss to his cheek before climbing off him on his other side. Mansk seems dazed and belatedly follows my movements. 

“Take them off.” I groan, lifting my hips off the ground to remove my panties. He doesn’t need to be told twice and his hands work on unbuckling his belt. Hurriedly he opens his army pants and tugs them down his thighs. 

I’ve ripped my panties off of me and thrown them somewhere behind me and now helped Mansk rid himself of his pants and underwear. 

Once he kicks them off his feet Mansk realises I’m completely naked and his movements slow. He seems to daze off again into his thoughts which amuses me. I press my hand against his deliciously warm chest and push his torso back against the bark of the tree before straddling his waist again. 

“You’re so beautiful…” Mansk mumbles and my eyes shoot up to him in surprise. I haven’t received a compliment in a long time and I could tell he meant it even though I wasn’t sure he knew he said it aloud. 

“Says you, pretty boy.” I giggle and his eyes widen at the pet name. A blush clouds his warm cheeks again and I smile. 

Mansk never thought he looked bad but he never found anything about him that he thought was really good-looking. Sure he was built but so was everyone else. That tattoo was meant to give him some uniqueness but he was often unsure of it. He just felt too regular and therefore any compliments about his appearance had his heart fluttering. 

I glance down between us and my eyes widen once again. I was expecting something normal sized but Mansk was much bigger than expected. Perhaps it was a common Na’vi trait but I doubted that. 

“Holy fuck-” I whisper under my breath, slowly tracing my fingers down his abs and to his v-line before stopping close to his crotch. Mansk hears my reaction and he can tell by the way I bite my lip that I’m happy with him. He feels more confident with what he’s doing now. 

I lift my hand and wrap it around the middle of his shaft to test the waters. Mansk shudders at the contact, inhaling deeply to ready himself for what is to come. 

Everything about him is such a turn-on to me I can’t stop looking at him. My hand starts to gently stroke him and I glance up to see that his eyes have fluttered closed. One of his hands was loosely holding my hip while the other was pressed together in a tight fist against the ground. 

His reactions make me crave more from him so I tighten my fingers around him, tugging at his dick before I stop at his tip and glide my thumb over the slit that’s leaking beads of pre-cum. 

He presses his lips together tightly and his ears flicker back in pleasure. It must feel good even though I’m working on him dry. This makes me realise I can just move to the next stage because I’m craving him badly too. 

I stop my movements, giving Mansk the chance to take a breather and recover. My legs lift me a little higher and I place my palm against the side of his dropped head. 

“Ready?” I ask, looking at him for approval. Mansk lazily nods his head, gently tugging my waist forward to steady us both. 

“Yeah-” he breathes out and I nod back. 

My hand slowly guides the tip of his dick to my burning and sensitive entrance, mixing his pre-cum with the heat that has leaked out of me. It seems the new bodies of ours are far more responsive to erotic feelings than human bodies.

Mansk holds his breath again, watching with lust-drunk eyes. I line him up with my hole and slowly sink down on him. His lips part as he feels himself become engulfed by warmth and slick squeezing him from all sides. A soft groan is elicited from his mouth, encouraging me to continue pushing myself down him. 

I gasp as he starts to fill me and once I bottom out I place both my hands on his chest to steady myself. My breathing is heavy while his is ragged. 

“Fuck-” he mutters under his breath. 

I decide to be a little mean and tease him just a tiny bit more.

“I’m warm now, we can stay like this.” I say, playing it off innocently. 

Mansk would generally never complain about that but at this moment in time, his body craved you so badly he needed you to move and help him find a release. He looked up at me and seemed alarmed that I wouldn’t help him out of his state so he naturally tightened his grip on my hips. 

I smirk at him, leaning my head back in amusement at his panicked reaction. Mansk can’t do anything but watch me with a pleading look. 

“Tell me what you want, baby. Then I can give it to you.” 

My words make him shiver and for once it’s not due to the cold. 

“Please move…” he whines, looking at me with desperate eyes. 

“Good boy.” I coo, rubbing my thumb against his cheek and he seems surprised by my praise but it makes him feel better. 

He wasn’t used to being a bottom but right now he wanted nothing more but for you to take care of him. 

I start to gently rock my hips back and forth making Mansk gulp as he restrains himself from digging his fingers into my skin. His abs tense and his biceps flex as he starts to finally feel pleasure softly rid him of the feeling of being painfully hard. 

I notice how even through his tension, Mansk slowly melts and relaxes against my touch. It encourages me to lean forward and I lightly wrap my hand around his throat. 

His hazy eyes reflecting his pussy-drunk state find mine and we stare at each other while I continue my movements. I notice how Mansk’s eyes have become glossy. He must feel overwhelmed by bliss.

“You’re being so good for me.” I whisper before kissing him passionately. While I do this I pick up the pace a little and Mansk whimpers into my mouth due to the pleasure and the praise. My ears shoot forward and the noise makes me moan against him. The way I gently pressed his neck from the sides seemed to feed his lust. 

Perhaps Mansk was so used to being stronger than me and more in charge that he just needed to once have the roles reversed and have someone take care of him. 

He would often tell me what to do and how to do things so switching the positions had us both excited. 

I start to lift myself off him every time I rocked forward and let myself glide back down when I rolled my hips back. 

This seemed to really do it for Mansk.

“Feels so good-” he whines, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. Without thinking, his grip on me tightens and he starts supporting my movements by pulling and pushing my hips up and down to my rhythm.

Soon enough, Mansk starts to buck his hips up into me to meet my movements and I moan his name which drives him wild.

“Shit- that’s it. Don’t stop.” I say with a hitched breath and gasping voice and he nods, never dreaming of stopping. His eyebrows are furrowed together and his eyes are fixed on where you two are connected, intently watching how all of him disappears in you with each of your harsh thrusts. 

Mansk and I were now almost panting and our once-cold skin was now glistening with tiny beads of sweat. 

“Y/N- “ he breathes through clenched teeth and his words wake me from my pleasured hypnosis. “I’m gonna cum.” 

His voice sounds strained and I nod. “Me too,” I whisper, tightly gripping his shoulders. “Cum inside me.” 

His wide-blown eyes meet mine to make sure I said what he heard. 

“Please.” I add, begging him to fulfil my request. 

He confirmed it in his head his dick twitched inside me.

“Fuck-” he whimpers, “ ‘M gonna fill you up.” 

I nod desperately, digging my nails into the back of his strong shoulders. I was close to cumming as well. 

I knew I couldn’t get pregnant if our queues weren’t bound together so we were fine. And quite frankly, I wanted to feel him deep inside me. 

One of my hands moves between my legs and I start rubbing lazy circles on my clit to help me reach my high. Mansk watches, completely entranced by my movements. 

Never would he have thought that seeing another person pleasure themselves would turn him on so much. And because it was you in front of him, it’s what pushed him over the edge. 

I felt him tense and once I felt the first spurt of cum shoot inside me I was thrown into a state of pure bliss. My walls clenched around Mansk and it made his hips stutter and jolt forward in pleasure. 

He pulled me into him again, burying his head in the crook of my neck while he helped me ride out our orgasms. I cried out his name while he groaned out mine and my hips desperately bucked into his thrusts in frantic attempts to prolong and drag out our highs. 

After a minute we both simultaneously calmed down and our movements stilled. I sunk back down on him, fully seated on his lap while our heaving chests were pressed together. 

My hands wrapped around his neck loosely while I pressed the side of my face against him. He really was warm now. Mansk tightened his arms around my waist and was now hugging me, making me melt against him. 

“Thank you…” he whispered against my skin and I smiled tiredly against his. 

“Don’t. I wanted it just as much as you.” I reply, pulling back from him so that we could look at each other. Mansk gives me a soft smile and I press our foreheads together. My fingers trace around his chest before I start to admire the luminescent speckles on his skin and on his face. 

“You’re so pretty…” I mumble in adoration, stroking his head and running my hand through his short hair. His gaze softens even more and he kisses my cheek, trying to feel me as close to him as possible. 

“Then that makes you a fuckin’ angel…” he replies and his answer makes me laugh. He pulls me into him further, making our warm skin press together everywhere possible. “So soft.” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek against my shoulder. 

I snuggle against him and we stay still for a few minutes, just warming up and calming down in each other's embrace before my yawn reminds us of how late it probably is. 

Mansk doesn’t want to let go yet so he leans off the tree behind him and lays down into the soft grass. I lay on his chest and we don’t move. He doesn’t pull out but I don’t mind. It feels oddly comforting and warm. 

“Can we stay like this?” he asks, not wanting to hold you against your will. 

“Yes please.” I whisper tiredly, stretching my legs before loosely draping them on either of his sides. 

Our breathing is calm now and my head is resting on his chest while his arms are resting on my back, snaked around my waist.

“Can you teach me how to braid?” Mansk suddenly asks, seeming to still be in deep thought while I was slowly drifting off to sleep. 

A big smile spreads along my face as I look up at him and rest my chin on his chest. 

“Sure, we can do that tomorrow. While we wait for the search team to find us.” I whisper and he nods, gently rubbing calming circles onto my back. 

Both of us needed this. The release, the warmth and the comfort. Especially after what happened today. As recom’s, we struggled to find comfort in ourselves so having someone else was exactly what we needed. 

My body seemed to suddenly be filled with a different kind of warmth. One that he gave my heart.

Suddenly, the forest didn’t feel threatening anymore and the noises, the lights, and the fresh air felt homely. 

Whether they would wake up the next day was a mystery they could only wait to find out about. But it didn’t matter to them because they were together. Perhaps they were the last of their kind.

And just like that, the two living impostrous and artificial replicas of the Na’vi fell asleep together beneath the shining stars and gently rattling leaves, of a world that wanted them dead and gone.

Tag List: @number1gal @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ikranwings @numarusworld @jatwow

[sunnynwanda]

The Darkside

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

Warning: mentions of physical torture and trauma (a somewhat graphic description of rape in the 2nd chapter), blood, broken bones, violence... you get the idea. Please do not interact if any of those might be triggering for you. This is by far the roughest thing I’ve written on this website. 

Hero's fingers tap along the rhythm of their frantic heart against their thigh. Their restless eyes scan the horizon for any signs of Villain. It's 15 minutes past midnight, and they have every right to be worried. Villain is never late. They know something is wrong. What they don't know is what to do. Because a) they were never friends with Villain, so they have no idea where to look, and b) Villain doesn't exactly like them. Not that Hero can blame them. They are enemies, after all.

Ever since villains have started disappearing from the city, Hero has been... anxious. To say the least. They kept seeing familiar faces on the morning news, each day silently praying to not hear their Villain's name. They discussed the issue with fellow crime fighters, only to come to one conclusion - the mystery reigned over their city.

They tried approaching their mentor - Superhero - to voice their concerns regarding the disappearances but were met with a stern face and a horrifying statement that made bile rise in Hero's mouth. 

Wasn't this our end goal, Hero? The city will be free of criminals, doesn't matter how.

Villain's frame appears against the starry sky 45 minutes past midnight, and Hero relaxes. A wave of warm relief washes over them, only to leave them stiff when Villain lands in front of them, right under the street light. Had they not known them so well, Hero wouldn't recognize the bloody mess in place of their face.

"Vil, what on Earth..." they start, only to be interrupted by a coarse voice. Villain can't seem to focus their gaze, an obvious sign of concussion, if not many.

"Shut it." Villain sneers, brushing Hero's hand away and wincing when the movement sends a jolt of pain down their spine. "Don't start."

"Villain," they struggle to keep their face straight because they have never seen Villain so wrecked. "Hold still. You're about to collapse."

They move to support them, but Villain jumps away despite the pain cruising through their body after every move. "Hero. Don't."

"At least let me assess the damage," Hero pleads, an unconscious realisation forming in the depths of their mind. Villain takes a limping step back.

"Why, so you can report?" Hero shudders at the way their voice breaks. Villain leans against the light pole, unable to stand on their right foot. Hero watches them intently, only now noticing how they are cradling their left hand. Lord, just how injured are you?

"What are you talking about?" Hero's breath hitches in their throat. They pause, taking a deliberate breath before continuing. "Who did this to you?"

"Take your guess." Villain chuckles darkly, their swollen face distorting into a grimace. The expressive mimic causes the gash on their forehead to bleed again. They wipe it with their sleeve. "I'm surprised I'm still alive."

"Vil, you're not helping." Hero did not intend to sound so harsh, but something tells them they don't have much time. And they need answers. "I don't understand."

"You, you, you… It's only ever about you!" Villain explodes, and the floodgates break down, releasing everything they've had to hold back. "Did you ever wonder what happened to the others?" they scream, hitting their rival's chest. Hero doesn't stop them when they notice even Villain's fingers are covered in dry blood, some broken. Hero feels their own blood freeze in their veins. Gods, what kind of a monster do you have to be to...

Villain lets out a choked cry, throwing their head back and looking up to contain themselves. "Has it ever crossed your mind that you were not the only variable in the game?" They are not addressing Hero so much as talking to themselves. "Of course not."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hero starts quietly. They are beginning to see the puzzle pieces, but the picture isn't clear to their mind's eye.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" This time, Villain sounds calm. Almost indifferent. Vacant.

They drape their cape over their head and start to turn when Hero stops them, lightly touching their shoulder. "Hey, don't walk out on me. Tell me." Villain whimpers in pain at the touch, prompting Hero to jerk their hand away, stiffening at the look in their eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the only one that's escaped," Villain explains, lowering their voice to a whisper for good measure. "They'll find out in the morning and try to track me."

"I promise I can keep you safe," Hero claims, determination colouring their eyes red. "Who are they?"

Villain shakes their head wordlessly. "Use your brain. Do your research. You'll be surprised to know what those walls are hiding." They nod to the north. Superhero's headquarters. No.

Their emotions must be evident on their face because Villain lets out another dark chuckle. "You might find he has different ways of breaking people. You know nothing of the methods he uses to torture people into submission."

"Sub… what?" The question scratches the back of their throat with vague understanding. One they don't dare to voice. "Villain, you need a doctor."

"I need to get out of this city," Villain replies, turning away from them in a swift motion. "And I suggest you do the same once you learn the truth. He won't spare you." They add over their shoulder before vanishing into the night. Leaving Hero alone and shaking under the street lamp.

Hero has 3 hours until dawn. And they intend to use those hours to find out the truth, pack up their things and disappear from the city for good.

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

Masterlist

Hi loves! I know I’ve been practically MIA on this website but I did have a good reason for that (that being the final exam in my PhD course).

I am back now and I hope you’ll enjoy this... as much as one can, of course. 

Love, 

Sunny

[vasiktomis]

TripAdvisor's Top 10 Things To Do In Volterra, Tuscany (18+)

Previous | Part 3 | Next Part

Pairing: Aro/F!Reader(No use of y/n). Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~5500. Warnings: Overt stalking. Gaslighting. Borderline infidelity. Kind of sexually weird behaviours all around. Read it on Ao3 Here!

__________________________________

Autumn.

One couldn’t throw a rock in the home of the Volturi without hitting an unprincipled mortal submitting themselves for servitude. Of course, these humans do so with the intention of being made into immortals. You, on the other hand, stray into territory Aro doesn’t find himself familiar with. 

It strikes such a curiosity in him that he can’t help but survey your actions when you assume privacy. It’s only fair, really — if you won’t let him see your thoughts, you can at least allow him to play guessing games in his free time. Playing detective the way his trackers do: acquainting himself with your routines, following your network. Finding out what makes you tick outside of what you elect to tell him. 

It’s not as if he’s doing any harm, anyway. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, and this whole game is centred around secrets. If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have started it. He can’t be faulted for simply accepting your proposal, can he? 

No matter —

You’re a curious sight when you think you’re alone. No different to the way you behave in his presence. Irritatingly elusive in that regard; he’d hoped to at least uncover a shred of something hidden from your daily life. Some vulnerability. Some sweetness. Loved ones, perhaps. The kinds of weaknesses mortals have — but in the months he’s known you, he’s not known you to speak of anyone beyond mutual contacts and the odd celebrity. You fill your time greedily. Blindly. And amidst that, you don’t call anyone. 

You’d make for a perfect recruit, if the rest of you wasn’t such a risk.

In the meantime, until he grows tired of the puzzle, Aro is content to play along. He'll endure your shallow phone-app gossip about Taylor The Swift with the knowledge that no human could ever compete with his own kind in terms of speed, and the security that brains are no different. You're no match for him, intellectually. You’re bound to slip up. Whatever mask you don’t want him peering beneath will crack, and so long as you remain entertaining, he’ll keep you alive. In the meantime, he’s still plenty able to lift far more information from you than you realise. He doesn’t need to touch you to find out what makes you tick, and he’s already beginning to notice a pattern in your rhythms. 

This isn’t a nightly routine, mind. Just a carefully curated set-up to ensure that when he does grow bored — when he just so happens to pass by one particular window in the castle, he needn’t make any other effort but to simply stand and observe.

Aro’s nothing if not generous. Those Airbnbs you hopped to and from offer little in the way of a personal touch. They were cramped and beyond your sustainable budget. There's less of a paper trail in your wake when you're not scrambling to find a new rental, and simply providing you with options bought in a faux name prove advantageous for his end of the board, anyway. This way, you have more presence. More security. More freedom to adorn your living space with all of the things that have taken your fleeting interest; artwork, furnishings, what you refer to as ’tasteful clutter’ — all purchased with the money he gives you, of course. It’s akin to watching a magpie fix her nest with trinkets, and in a static position, the viewing experience is less of a hassle.

Had he ensured your living space faced perfectly toward his own abode, graced with the view of the place that gives you whatever you ask?

Of course.

Do you ever appreciate the wonderful view of the castle from your new home?

Hardly.

This is fine by him, he supposes. 

The less you peer out into the dark, the less concern he has watching you from it. 

Over the course of your relocation, you’ve decided to make your bedroom the room with the view, and with only minimal encouragement from Aro. Most of your time nowadays is spent by his side, and majority of the time not is devoted to resting. You don’t lounge in your living spaces unless you’re hosting Volturi, who are barred from your sleeping quarters. Meanwhile, your human guests only ever appear to be hosted in the opposite manner. 

It’s not the nature of your ventures that interests him; human bodies are filthy. Graceless. Marked up with scars and spots with stories too boring to justify in this era. Each of your guests is as imperfectly mortal as the last — as are you — and you never, ever, bring the same person home twice. 

It’s not what you do with them physically that Aro pays close attention to. It’s the psychological aspects that strike him.

You’re unkind to your lovers. They appear to frustrate you. Matters that go beyond teasing and taunting. They’re simply not up to scratch. Its not for a lack of trying, either; you never give anyone more than an overnight chance before you’re done with them. No afterglow. No intimacy. No second chances. You take what your body needs and send them on their way. 

Well, you try. 

It seems from observation that the only one who is capable of impressing you is yourself. Hardly any different from your public life, really. 

You’re hideously skilled at convincing people to do things for you, and yet you seem to have tremendous difficulty with this. If only your lovers could dip into your mind. They’d know precisely how to give you what you’re chasing. 

He could. Not that he wants to. 

He’d never. 

When you’re alone, it’s different. There’s no bumbling presence obstructing you from him. No one to watch you suffer through pretend patience with as they try in vain to figure out how to please you. You know how to provide for yourself, and tonight is one such fortunate, lucky night.

He prefers it when you’re like this, like tonight: neatly in-view atop your mattress, sheets kicked away, minute little motions of your hand betwixt your legs. If he were human — if you knew you had an audience, it'd almost feel taunting, the way you never remove your underwear; no matter how inconvenient it appears to have them still on. The most gratifying part of it though, Aro finds, is when everything is over. When you’ve emerged from your haze, and the first thing you do is roll over, lift your smartphone from the bedside table, and cause his own device to buzz in his pocket.

A fleeting thought entertains your reaction to his correspondence at this very minute, with your dominant hand — as per usual — obscured by the fabric of your underwear. The potential of your irritation is delightful already, but the possibilities are snowballing; would it bother you enough to make you stop altogether? Would it stir you from your state, or would you keep going, as unbothered with his presence as you are your partners?

Perhaps —

Perhaps it would excite you. 

Venom pools beneath his tongue. Aro takes a moment to dampen his throat. His hand finds his pocket. Considering it. 

He could test how much power a text would have over you right now.

Then, something more reasonable stills him. For all his reflections, you could simply ignore him. Your phone could be on silent for all he knows, and while you’d never even know it, he would be forced to wear that as a loss.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

It’s best he doesn’t involve himself in the moment. Excitement doesn’t bode well for games of chance. 

Your posture stiffens. You’re on the brink. If he really wished it, he could hone in on you. Drown out the city noise and focus on what might be catching breaths and the tack of parting, wetted flesh. The fine hairs on the back of Aro’s neck stand on end. Fingers curl delicately around the phone in his pocket, thumb impatiently drifting back and forth along the glass. 

Then, after teetering for too long a moment, you slacken.

You give up. Drawing your hand out of your underwear and letting it fall beside you on the mattress while you glower at the ceiling. Aro, meanwhile, tugs his hand from his pocket with an unimpressed huff.

Amidst his own annoyance that you are already taking far too many seconds to pick up your phone, Aro notes that this has been an increasingly common ending for you. Not that he’s interested in that aspect of it. He couldn’t care less for the hormonal activities of a mate-less human. Even if the smell that permeates the home he bought you is — really quite something — especially in the minutes after. Normally, alone, you’re quite capable at this. 

Nowadays, much less so. 

He supposes it doesn’t matter, now. He’s more concerned with the far too many centimetres between your hand and the bedside table. Where the presence he’s trying to impose goes ignored. 

...

That does it.

He tugs his phone out of his pocket. Eyes emoji. Conveying expectation while committing to a funny little in-joke with just himself. That'll do nicely. Send.

Across the way, your own device lights up, and you stir from your annoyed state. Checking it nonchalantly. 

Then, you do something new. Angling the phone above your head the same way you've taught him to take the most flattering photographs on the go. Tugging the collar of your shirt outward.

You —

You can’t be doing what he thinks you’re doing. Not to him.

How vile. He’s fathoms beyond you. 

Aro's gaze flickers to his phone. 

Nothing on his end. Not yet.

Your device lowers. You hit send. 

Still nothing.

Perhaps there’s an issue with your reception. He should have received whatever tasteless picture you’d taken by now. 

Seconds pass. Then he’s tapping out another message. Nails clacking with more urgency on the screen. Two eyes emojis. Now that’ll get your blood pumping.

…

Now this is just getting ridiculous.

Rapid-fire pressing of buttons. Aro holds his phone to his ear. He scowls out the window, watching your thumb swipe far too slowly before you greet him.

“Hey, boss. Hot night out, huh? So much for Autumn.”

“What are you doing right now?” It's something of an effort to keep the question from sounding like an accusation.

“I’m sending photos of my tits to some slob on the internet.”

“Ah.” Disarmingly candid as usual, he thinks. “Did you consider it might be inappropriate to tell your mentor such a thing?”

“Pardon. I’m using wireless network technology to transfer illicit images of my body at the behest of an acquaintance who intends to use them to coax money out of a wealthy male — who, probably — finds it sexually thrilling to parted from said money. Is that formal enough?”

“How charitable. Look at that.” Aro comments, watching you peel yourself out of bed. “There’s a humanitarian in you after all.”

“If there was a humanitarian in me, I wouldn’t be working eight hours a day being your breadwinner.”

“Then I'm sure you'll have no qualms explaining why you stay for ten.” He ignores the clumsy euphemism, turning away from the window. He’s gotten the conversation on the right track. “Not including our quality time.”

“Speaking of — when are you dropping by?”

“I thought it might be more polite to wait until I was invited.”

“Aro.” Your voice lowers. Long-suffering. “You show up unannounced half the time.”

“You’re mistaken. No fault of your own. Humans don’t have the best memories.”

“Nice try.”

It’s then that Aro spies Caius turning onto the stretch of hallway. The blonde’s mouth opens, about to regard him before he takes notice of the call and shuts it.

“Two minutes.” Aro promises. 

“Wh-“

He hangs up. There’s no time to spare for your reply, lest present company develop further concerns. Caius has made it quite clear over recent weeks how much he protests the little arrangement the two of you have going on, and to be frank, Aro tends to hear less of it when he’s given as little ammunition as possible. Downplaying your existence entirely whenever you’re not in the room seems to be the only effective means of keeping the other man off his back. 

Not that he’d prefer to be chatting about you, anyway. Any interest regarding his new protege takes an immediate turn for the suspect.  “Aro.” The blonde greets curtly. 

”Caius.” Aro smiles back. “Enjoying the longer hours outside?”

Caius is onto him already. He’s far too acquainted with that sour expression to fool himself into thinking he’s not on his trail. “The hours are fine. What are you doing up here?”

“Admiring the altocumulus clouds.” He lies, inching to the centre of the window to cover as much of the view with his back as possible.

”Altocumulus clouds.”

”Indeed.”

“How sweet.” Caius sneers. “Let me see —“

“Come, since when have you taken an interest in cloud formations?”

“Since when have you been interested in cloud formations?”

Finally, the blonde succeeds. 

”Aro.”

”I’m keeping an eye on her to ensure she’s not doing anything nefarious.”

”Don’t lie.”

"Is it such a crime for me to simply watch?" Aro snaps. "It's not like you to have such little faith in me."

“Your agency is your own.” Caius says, reluctant to fathom the words. “But it’s only a matter of time until word spreads past the continent, and the questions arise.”

“Our answers are sound. Times are changing, Caius. If the vegetarians succeeded so well in training a mortal for their own collection, what’s the harm in us doing the same? We both know public relations haven’t been positive for a few decades. Perhaps having a potential in  the midst of the Guard wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“That —“ Caius points over Aro’s shoulder, guiding his gaze across the street. You’ve vanished. Likely bathing. “— is not potential. That is a costly distraction.”

There’s an awfully long pause while Caius chooses his next words. Both of them know what he’s going to say. Both of them can’t stand to look at each other while he says it.

“How many centuries has it been since you visited Sulpicia?”

“Really now —“

“You’d do well to remember she exists.” Caius grunts. “I’m sure your wife would appreciate your visit.”

“Glass houses, dear Caius.”

“Just don’t make this another Carlisle.” The blonde warns. 

“Impossible.” Aro dismisses. “If this one fails, there won’t be a challenge in dispatching her.”

“And if you fail her too late, it could turn into an awful mess. Personalities like your pet go rogue.”

“Personalities like that one are easy to rein in with the right measures. Take Chelsea; she does whatever she’s told as long as she gets whatever she asks for. Our guest is no different. So long as we hold the scrap, the dog will follow.”

Words won’t get through to him. They rarely do. Caius's loyalty lies in firm philosophy, and contradictions are not to be tolerated even amongst his oldest allies. Aro relents, holding out his hand for the other man to take. “Show me how I can convince you, brother.”

Caius regards the gesture with a purse of his lips. His hands remain clasped in front of him, and something in Aro's chest stirs. Uneasy. It's not a sharp enough feeling to have him feeling threatened by the man, but it's enough to warrant concern. Caius would never snatch at helm. He's far too weak. Much too uncharismatic. But he, along with Marcus, make up the completed image of a functioning, harmonious unity. If his own brother in purpose is keeping something from him, it needs to be rectified immediately.

However, Aro's a little preoccupied right now. This time, the blonde's temper will have to simmer on its own for a few hours yet.

The best he can do now is respect Caius's boundary. Show poise. A human in their midst will not upset the integrity of the Guard, and the quickest way to making this clear is honesty. Business as usual.

Everything is under control.

“I don’t like the way the light bounces in this room, and I believe this window is at fault.” Caius declares. “It should be filled in, don’t you think, brother?”

Aro smiles for a moment longer than he knows he should. It doesn’t matter. They both know the gesture is hardly a fond one. “As you like.”

__________________________________

“Let me touch you.”

You blink at the smiling man at your doorstep. “Hello works, too.”

Vampires are persistent animals, you’ve learned — but none more so than Aro. Ever since he’d decided on going public with his decision to make himself something of mentor to you, the senior ranks among staff have all made it quite clear how royally you’ve fucked up by putting in your lot with them; how you had better hope you don’t lose your novelty by the time you die of natural causes, lest their leader grow bored with you. To the chagrin of most — and to your initial delight at the former — your days and nights through the end of Summer and most of Autumn have been in at least some aspect shadowed by Aro. 

His head tilts to the side, just a little as he examines your face. His gaze flits to your collar. “You’re flushed. Are you well?"

To his credit, Aro is probably the most streetwise person you've ever met. He may be ancient, but he's really not bad at keeping up with modernity, with societal change and evolution. He's got an answer to offer to any question you ask, and the ones he doesn't, he's simply keeping from you. That's where, you think, his intelligence falters. The first few times carries a Wow factor. A god, this guy knows everything. Then, he gets talking. Then, he gets long-winded. Then, he's insisting on his smarts. It becomes as inescapable as any other studious white guy flaunting passages he's picked up from books — only Aro's got a few thousand years more passages to cover.

Like most men you've encountered in life, even the ones that would swear otherwise, Aro's Achilles heel is he's utterly convinced that you're dumb.

You’re aware of how little he thinks of humans. Their creations and their impacts, he respects well enough, but individuals are little more than food. At first you’d assumed that the fuss he made over your wit was a polite ploy to force you upon his coven, but as the weeks have drawn on, it’s become clear that he genuinely expected you to be too stupid to realise the habits he’s picked up in regard to his studies of you. 

For instance, the gifted apartment with the gigantic fuck-off window angled directly at the tower he haunts. The way he knows exactly when to call you, where you are, and when you sleep to the minute. 

“Went for a run.” You answer, and his acknowledgement comes a second too late to feel organic.

You both know what you’ve been doing. Only he’s under the assumption you don’t know that he knows. It makes his allusions feel ham-fisted. Aro, it seems, gets sloppy when he thinks he’s in the lead.

The others have been honest with you: Aro’s interests are intense. This game has gotten under his skin, and he’s willing to use any advantage he has on you (an apparently inexhaustible list) to be the victor. You don’t really mind, to be honest. It’s a new vein of fun, being the subject of obsession. Maybe if it were a human following your every move, you’d be creeped out. Not to say that Aro doesn't set off alarm bells; he hits nearly every base in that regard. It's just that, normally, men who want to make a possession out of you are scores less interesting.

Aro steps forward, inviting himself past you, slowing to inhale. It occurs to you that you’ve never heard him breathe passively before. It’s not like he needs to. 

He’s fucking smelling you.

“I would never. Not without your permission.” He assures. A 'come on, please' dressed up to make it feel like you've got far more agency than just what his amusement allows.

“No, Aro.”

”Then hello will have to do.”

This man could kill you whenever he pleases. Instead, he goes out of his way to assure you he's a total consent king. A thousands-year-old blood-drinking monster who stalks your shadow day and night and a simple refusal has him completely enthralled with having you in his vicinity, alive. At least for a while. 

You’re not ashamed to admit it. It’s fun. There’s a fascination with Aro that keeps your own boredom at bay. Beyond the otherworldly aspects of him, beyond the flattery of fixation, you do enjoy trying to figure him out as much as he seems to enjoy figuring you out. There’s almost something familiar about him to you, but there's nothing in memory that you can compare him to. Maybe its just subconscious representations of Dracula in media throughout your childhood; likenesses that have almost absolutely been influenced by him.

If only he wasn't so annoying. You might be more inclined to fuck him sooner if he'd stop trying to read your mind every few hours.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and ignore me one of these days so I can save my breath.” You mutter, closing the door behind him.

“Where would be any fun in that? What we’re doing is far too much fun to fathom it.” Aro tuts, taking in the environment, scanning shelves and surfaces for anything new. It makes him happy to see his influence on your life, you’ve found. Like he has power over you. “Jane has a message she’d like me to pass on.” He waits until you motion for him to continue. “She’d like you to stop trying to make her smoke cigarettes.”

Little tattletale.

“S'not like it’ll give her cancer.” You retort. “Can vampires even develop addictions?”

“Heavens, no. It’s the principle. Besides, we could do without the smell sticking to the walls.”

“Like the meat and borax smell is so much better.”

“Why are you so intent on this?”

“Times have changed! You might have gotten to see it in your day, but this might be my only window to see a child smoking.”

Aro winces at that. “I wouldn’t advise wording it that way in her presence. She and Alec were burned at the stake.”

“Sounds like they could both do with a vice or two.”

“Oh, you are so charming.” Aro scoffs, making his way into the living room. “You know I’d adore if you made more of an effort to ingratiate yourself with my family. Personally, I think you’d make a handsome newborn. I’d like to see that happen before your life is forfeit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Is that why you haven’t left me alone?” You ponder, pressing a mocking hand to your chest. “Are you grooming me?”

He gives nothing to your theatrics, sticking to his own. “There has been chatter. Nothing is ever set in stone until it reaches the court, but there’s a consensus.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re…” He pauses a few seconds, ensuring he’s captured enough of your attention that a cheery little smile won’t go wasted. “A list of expletives I won't lower myself to repeat, but one of the more friendly terms thrown around the room was 'bossy'.”

You take a seat, watching as the man begins to listlessly pace back and forth in front of you. “You know I didn’t sign on to be turned, right?”

Aro shoots you an amused look. “Yes, but why wouldn’t you want to be? You want to remain like —“ He gestures at you. “— this?”

Maybe he said the no offence part too quiet for you to pick up on. 

“None taken.” You offer, just in case. 

“Pardon?”

“Forget it.” Asshole. “I don’t know why you’re so keen for your coven to like me when most of them don’t even seem to like each other.”

 “Marcus likes you very much.” Aro informs, ignoring the latter statement. “Caius has his reservations.”

“You can say he wants me dead, Aro.”

“He might certainly like you more if he knew he could trust you. Caius is a bitter old man, but I understand his caution.”

“I’m not sure what would make you trust me.” You shoot back. “Especially when I never asked for you to tell me all this. I could be sitting down in Heidi’s office, none the wiser. If you ask me, the responsibility’s on you three for dragging me along for the murder tour.”

“A tour you happily continue to send your audience on.”

“I’m happy to do anything my job description states I get paid to do.”

The corner of Aro’s mouth twitches. He didn’t enjoy hearing that. He slows to a stop, bowing his head as he turns to regard you front-on. “They’re both of he opinion that while you refuse to be read, we can’t fully trust you. Playing nicely with others is a valuable trait to have. Our communities are small, and things flow better when we all get along.” He explains. “There’s no question, you’d be an enviable power, but that amounts to nought if you have to be put down for failing to play nice. It’s quite an investment, turning someone, especially in this — sensitive era. Decades of effort.”

You watch him from your spot on the couch. Never quite able to put your finger on what angle he’s playing. Your legs shift, creating a space, and after a moment, Aro takes the invitation. Sitting beside you. 

“So I’m either turned, or I’m dinner for your guards.” You conclude. “Just like all your other human staff.”

Aro makes a face at you. Theatrical sympathy. A gloved hand settles on your knee, and just as a little thrill runs through you, it retreats. Hm. “Oh, no. You’re my favourite, and you’re my catch. I’d be the one who eats you.”

“Can’t I just — stay human?” You ask. “I’m sorry but I sorta like what we’ve got going right now.”

“That—” Aro taps your shoulder with both index fingers. “— is exactly the root of contention. Your apathy. Without me seeing your soul, without anyone to use their gifts on you, there’s simply no telling how much faith we can put in your loyalty.”

“So how are you supposed to find out?”

“The old-fashioned way. With time. But, I’ll never stop asking you.” He says. Eye contact unbroken. “I would be honoured if you’d consider —“

His fingers stretch toward you, gesturing to be taken in yours. It’s not the touch you want.

“Yeah.” You acknowledge the action with a glance, and momentarily, his pupils constrict. Then, you do not move, and the muscles cornering his lips twitch downward. “I’ll consider it.”

He recovers with a renewed grin, inclining his head. “You realise you’re challenging an immortal to a game of patience.”

“Or a race to see who gets bored first.”

Maybe you should be throwing him a bone for refusing to kill and eat you, you wonder. Maybe you could be rewarding this game a little more.

Maybe there's a way for you both to get half a deal out of this.

Your fingertip finds his on the backrest of the couch, and there’s that little thrill again. A layer of leather between you and only a few centimetres of contact, but still, you find yourself quite content to feel along the backs of his knuckles through the material. 

His gaze flickers to the little movements. His throat bobs.

The smile fades, but there’s something much nicer about his face without it. More sincere.

Fuck it. It’s not like you’re having an affair. It's just a touch.

Aro's lips part. Brow stitched. Concerned. But he doesn't pull away.    

“I have a wife.”

…

That was not the direction of sincerity you were anticipating.

You have to hand it to you; you play it cool for a good two seconds before sitting up. “You have a wife.”

Aro straightens out as well, following suit after you’ve withdrawn your hand. “Forgive me. I’d like for us to be on the same page.”

He’s so convincing about this that you almost forget about his window habits. What a scumbag. Surely he could have mentioned being married at some point over these past few months. 

“No, we are. Totally platonic. Strictly professional.” 

Thank god you didn’t go through with sending that photo of your tits to him earlier.

“With the colder weather, our community has more opportunity to congregate in the coming weeks.” Aro explains, gaze now fixed ahead. “You’ll get the opportunity to meet her. As well as our wider network —“

“Is that a good idea?” You ask. “Introducing your wife to a new assistant, to whom you spend majority of your week begging to touch? See, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been fielding some pretty pointed questions about what we get up to together.”

“I don’t beg.” He retorts. “But I do insist. It would be beneficial for you to acquaint yourself with Sulpicia and Athenadora—“

”Two—?”

“Caius’s—“

”Caius has a wife—?”

”It would look better from an outsider’s perspective.” Aro hisses, patience wavering. His eyes — just a little more red these days than you remember them being — fix you to the spot, scowling disproportionate frustration. "Is it really so difficult to fathom that our friends might benefit from having a better idea — the right idea — about us? It would be nice to dispel a few rumours before they become a wildfire."

You hold his gaze, refusing to fold. “Just say everyone thinks that you’re fucking a human.”

That earns you a particularly revolted scoff. He breaks away first. Victory. “Don’t be so crass.”

If you were immortal, would he be so outraged by the prospect? Regardless, you get the feeling that even if you were, he’d still be forcing you into this situation anyway. He’d still have rumours to shirk and a reputation to maintain. Even if you weren’t so foul to him, there’s no way he’d sacrifice that to elevate your own status. 

No, there’s a reason this conversation’s wiped that smarmy little smile off his face, and it goes beyond your humanity.

“I’ll bring my own date. A human.” You propose. “You’ll be honest. Introduce me as your protege. Then you’ll introduce my plus one. Move the attention to them. Act familiar.”

Aro considers that. His tongue shifts between his teeth. “That works. They’ll know you as a couple rather than a spinster. Marcus could vouch for you, so long as you source from another province.”

“Done.”

“Excellent.” Aro inclines his head, sealing the deal. “You’ve a knack for deception.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a real affinity for bullshit.” You say, drily. “Must be why I’m the only person who likes you.”

The corners of his mouth tug. A crooked, organic smile. Then, it turns symmetrical again. Manufactured. “Perhaps you should let me touch you.”

You hum thoughtfully, and the lack of outright denial this time has Aro lurching into your space. One hand braced on the back of the couch. The other already poised to remove his glove. “Perhaps I’d let you if you made good on those rumours.”

Aro stills. Glassy eyes unblinking, imperceptible. You can’t tell if he’s terrified or furious — but that stupid smile falters, and you smell blood in the water. 

“Shame you can’t stomach it.” You continue, pushing yourself up into his space, now, shepherding him out of yours. “Looks like you’ll have to keep pretending from the window.”

Silence stretches between you. Aro’s lip curls.

“Don’t misunderstand our rapport. You are a subject to me, and if you aren’t cautious, you will find yourself beyond my interest.” He warns, and just like that, you’re knocked off your pedestal.

He —

No fucking way.

Is he gaslighting you? Your own stalker, negging you?

Your gaze hardens. ”I think you should get off my couch and go back to your wife now, Aro.”

”Oh, don’t be discouraged.” Your own anger seems to crack through his. Aro fixes you with an amused little chuckle, and you feel the ghost of a gloved fingertip graze your chin. “Consider it incentive to play nice. I don’t want you, but the concept of taking you would be far more agreeable if you were immortal. If nothing else serves to encourage you —“

“I get it. From now on I’ll close the shades before I masturbate.”

”Goodnight."

[ailendolin]

hey! your fics are honestly some of my faves, i can’t believe you’ve only just reached 500 followers - you deserve so much more recognition ^^

for the drabbles could i please request ❤️‍🩹 with dissectus and voltari? totally cool if not! <3

Thank you very much for your kind words, anon! 💙 They're very much appreciated. I know writers are supposed to write for themselves first and foremost but it's honestly such a wonderful feeling and privilege to be able to bring joy to other people with my stories, and I really your Disstari ficlet does exactly that! As all the others, it's set in my Second Chances verse.

Next up:

🎮 Games - Mary, Annie and alive Kitty

🌧️ Rainy day activities - Humphrey & Sophie

🩸 Patching up a wound - Alison/Mike

🥰 Saying ‘I love you’ without saying it - Thomas/Isabelle

🛁 platonic bathing - Ian/Gabriel

Ask Game is here. Filled prompts are here, here & here on AO3.

————

Free

❤️‍🩹 Reunited after a long time apart

It was done.

Voltari still found it hard to believe, even now as he was on his way upstairs to open the Chamber doors for the Elders. Cuddly Dick had been defeated and the other Overlords rounded up and secured. Their plan had actually worked and Voltari – Voltari was free. No more mind games, no more torture and punishment dealt out with sickening smiles, no more constant vigilance. For the first time in his life, he could just be, and the realisation hit him so hard that his steps faltered on the stairs and he had to stop and take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

There was, of course, still the lingering fear that the Elders, now that they had no use for them anymore, would go back on their word and not pardon him and Dissectus like they had promised. A lifetime of mistrust made it difficult, nearly impossible, for him to believe in the good of people now. But Voltari wanted to believe. He wanted to believe so badly even though he and Dissectus probably didn’t deserve a second chance – definitely didn’t, Voltari amended, thinking of all the things he’d been forced to do to survive in a world where showing even the smallest sign of weakness could mean certain death. But that didn’t stop him from wanting a new life, a better one – one without secrets, pain and loneliness. And after what he’d been through these last few weeks he wasn’t below begging the Elders for it.

His ruined eye began to throb under the eye piece, a painful reminder of everything he was walking away from right now. Voltari resisted the urge to reach up and rub at the mutilated skin as he continued on his way: up the stairs, then down the winding hallways until he finally reached the large wooden doors that had held him prisoner this whole time. His hands were shaking when he inserted the key and pulled them open.

The Elders were waiting outside and turned towards him as one. Voltari couldn’t deny his surprise when they all broke out into smiles, almost as if he was a long lost friend they hadn’t seen in a while. One of them, the scribe, let out a noise of unbridled excitement before she came forward and threw her arms around him in a hug.

Voltari froze.  

“Oh, sorry,” she said in embarrassment and hurried to step back. “I’m just so grateful to be home again!”

With that, she shuffled past him, the others close behind her. Voltari blinked after them, not quite able to comprehend what had just happened, before the soft clearing of a throat drew his attention back to the person behind him.

“You’ll get used to them,” Dissectus said, a smile tugging at his lips, and Voltari forgot how to breathe. He drank in the sight of his oldest, his only friend like a parched man, cataloguing all the things that were different about him; from the dark blue tunic he now wore in place of his uniform to the lack of make-up on his face. He looked gentler without both, Voltari thought, and lovelier if such a thing was even possible.

Something eased in his chest, then; something that had been tightly coiled ever since Cuddly Dick had summoned them for the first time and grown incredibly painful when Dissectus had left him behind to provide a cover for Negatus and secure their future. Without warning, tears pricked at his eyes and Dissectus’s face softened in spite of Voltari’s attempts to swallow them.

“It’s okay,” he said in a tone that had only ever been reserved for the privacy of their bedchambers before, the only places they could allow themselves to be vulnerable. “It’s over, Tari. We made it.”

Voltari knew that, of course. Yet hearing Dissectus say it was different, somehow; made it more tangible and real. He exhaled shakily and a moment later found himself drawn against a warm chest with more gentleness than Dissectus had ever shown openly before. Arms came up around his back, and when one of Dissectus’s hands found its way into his hair, Voltari closed his eyes and let his head be guided onto one shoulder.

“It’s over,” Dissectus murmured again and this time, Voltari didn’t fight the tears. He curled his fingers into the soft fabric of Dissectus’s tunic and let the tension, fear and pain of the last few weeks fall away from him. It was a much needed moment of comfort, even if it only lasted briefly before Voltari pulled back. Ducking his head to hide the redness around his eye, he gestured at the doors. “We should head inside. There’s still much work to be done.”

“Of course,” Dissectus said gracefully. His soft smile said that he had seen right through the deflection and was choosing not to mention it – just as he was choosing not to mention the angry marks around Voltari’s eye piece or the way Voltari’s hands were still trembling faintly in the afternoon light.

Voltari had quite forgotten what it felt like to be seen, but rather than letting it unsettle him, he revelled in the sensation and allowed himself a small smile as they took the first steps of their new lives together.

[seylaaurora]

ok ur turn. top 5 ajr songs (do not feel the need to give big long explanations like i did lol im just insane. unless u’d like to be equally insane about it)

I cannot do this. I now see the error of my ways of asking you to do this ranking, cause it is just pure torture😆

Started to relisten to their first album cause it's the one that's least clear in my mind and... I already want all of them in my ranking and I know I like the Click, Neotheater and OK Orchestra even more... take pity on me😭

Let’s start with Pitchfork Kids! Absolute classic, absolute banger, delightfully weird in the way that reminds me why I love AJR. The song of their first album that stayed the longest on my playlist and the one that I always get back to being obsessed with whenever I listen to it. I don’t know what it is about this song. I don’t even think it’s one of their most relatable songs, probably not even one of their weirdest songs, it’s just... soooooo good tho. Legit one of THE AJR songs of all time. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. They’ll never be able to produce a song that hits the same buttons Pitchfork Kids does. No one will be able to, it just holds such a special place in my heart and my brain.

Role Models. This always hits even harder listening to it after Woody Allen like I’m doing today (no one can tell me it’s not a direct sequel to that song, this is 100% partly about Woody Allen). The disillusionment of realising your (childhood) heroes are not who you thought you were. Your heroes letting you down is suuuch an experience of growing up. They’re not just heroes, but they are actual people and honestly, some of these people suck. The struggle of taking what your heroes gave you while leaving the people behind that gave it to you. To what extent can you separate the art from the artist? How do you go on, knowing the influence this person’s art had on your life, on the person you are today and the decisions you’ve made? How do you become okay with you having been shaped by something made by a person you so fundamentally disagree with? How do you keep that part alive while killing the part that is attached to that person? (I’m trying really hard not to write an essay but it’s not turning out so well)

3 O’Clock Things. Look. This song is ace. I don’t make the rules.

Way Less Sad. I haven’t seen a single person yet who didn’t think this song was super optimistic, but also kind of thought that was weird of themselves to think. It’s an “This is not happy, so it can’t be the ending” optimism. I don’t know if we’re just all not okay, or if it’s not actually all that weird to think it’s an optimistic song, but this song came out in February 2021. That’s what we were in. Stuff sucked. It still does. But we are, in fact, not dead yet, and I personally think it’s very sexy of us to hold on to hope. We’re not done yet. Things will get better. They just will. It feels a little like spite, and I’m okay with that. This song makes me want to go out and change my life for the better

Birthday Party. There’s always been some social commentary in their music, and while this isn’t even the most obvious one (looking at you 3 O’Clock Things), it’s just so delightfully ironic about it. Look, Role Models doesn’t hit for no reason. This song always felt like a promise to me. We won’t be them. I remember seeing a post on Instagram around the time about how people were apparently complaining that they shouldn’t get political in their songs and I always thought “who the hell did you think you were listening to?” AJR’s songs have always been about growing up, and while there is the things about how to navigate relationships with other people, looking at the state of the world and building opinions on it has always been part of growing up too. This song is about the innocence of a child who will find out about all the horrible things going on in the world at some point, and I, for one, find that incredibly relatable.

Okay, this got away from me XD

I think I could write an essay about each of their songs, and my top 5 ranking could change at any point. I also wanted to put Weak, Netflix Trip, Call my Dad and Burn the House Down on the list, but I can’t do 9 instead of 5😂 at some point it’s just too much😂

Was this insane enough for you?😂

Drop sth in my ask box if you also want me to do a top 5 ranking for sth

[bumblebwii]

BTS x The Walking Dead C2

Yoonkook Zombie Apocalyse AU

Chapter Two!!

TW//cannibalism, bad moral compasses, reference to insanity and giving up your humanity, JK isn't the nicest bc neither is the apocalypse, its a morally grey story read at your own risk, dead dove do not eat, talks about wounds.

3-4k words.

Jungkook forced down the wail and refused to beg for them to stop as the smell of burning flesh and the sharp pinch of a sewing needle assaulted his senses. He’d done something like this to someone once, cut into their skin and burned the wound, sewed another wound, had enjoyed them screaming and begging for Jungkook to let them live, let them keep their limbs, begged for mercy that Jungkook never gave to them. He refused to be like that. He refused to be the prey. Jungkook was a predator, this was only fuelling his escape plan. He would make them pay. 

Leaning against a bunk bed frame in the cell uncomfortably, Jungkook watched the group of strangers intently, his hands and feet were tied in some uncomfortable plastic twine and the wound on his leg was still untreated, but cleaned and wrapped in a tight tourniquet and bleeding slowly, a day or so later, but he was alive. The bullet was still sitting uncomfortably in his muscles and it was starting to itch in a way that drove Jungkook’s developing insanity wild, he’d reach in and pick it out himself if he had to soon.

Alive and doing his best to ignore the way Yoongi refused to let up on keeping guard of a Jungkook he no longer knew how to trust, Jungkook used his time watching how the group of six scrambled alongside one another to build some kind of plan to get what he needed and leave. Jungkook focused on the way the group worked well together to get Jimin back to fit health in the cell opposite his, he had full view of his brother’s fluctuating health and the skill set of the two surgeons the group had bagged themselves. It was like they’d known each other for years or perhaps tied together by that red string of fate Jungkook’s once naive self had believed in, had forced himself to believe he had found it with his perfect relationship he had with Yoongi. 

Jungkook realised that his older brother had fallen a fool to the belief in that red string, and one had sewn itself into Jimin’s finger and through the calloused pinky finger of the group’s leader. They were in love - not the greatest of things to be during the end of the world - and Jungkook could see that harsh, dislikable exterior of the leader - Namjoon - fall away like butter on a hot knife every time Jimin so much as breathed. 

Jimin was Namjoon’s weakest spot. Good to know. 

Each one of these people held a place in Namjoon’s heart like they were family, Jungkook could see that explicitly in the way he had fussed over Hoseok as the man tried to treat Namjoon’s gunshot wound, but Jimin was different. Jimin was Namjoon’s cliche moment in life, alongside the most beautiful one, they’d kill any man dead before they let any harm come to each other; Jungkook knew he’d have been a dead man in this moment if it wasn’t for whatever Yoongi had convinced the leader to think once he had rendered Jungkook unconscious. 

Namjoon still wanted Jungkook dead, even after a compromise with Seokjin that Jungkook should stay with them as a prisoner, an outsider that they’d pull around like a donkey and use to babysit a healing Jimin. Jimin’s wounds were serious but not fatal, but they meant that Jimin would be out of action for a very long time, he needed someone there to protect him and Seokjin proposed who better to do that than the little brother Jimin loves entirely. The little brother that none of them truly could see beyond the onslaught of memories they had been given. 

It’d been a close call but Jimin had survived and was still doing well a few hours down the line. Jungkook, however, seemed to be doing worse and he needed to get out of here quickly. Stir-crazy and irritated by the bullet in his leg, Jungkook began to fidget. He was going to fish the bullet out himself. He needed to, even if his fingers were crusted with dirt and old blood and god-knows what else sent the whites of his nails black. Sane Jungkook would have been disgusted by the state of his hands, sane Jungkook was what Yoongi used to label a ‘clean-freak’ who cared about appearance and hygiene. Post-sanity, apocalypse-scarred Jungkoook couldn't care less about any of that; he had bigger fish to fry than keeping himself clean, like getting the bullet out of his leg.

Yoongi sat on the floor bedside Jungkook’s cell, chewing the skin of his thumb, staring holes into Jungkook’s head, watching Jungkook with close precision. It was humorous to see Yoongi try to hide his emotions and thoughts from Jungkook, the only one there who had bore full witness to everything Yoongi could possibly offer, Jungkook knew Yoongi like the back of his hand; even if Jungkook had spent months attempting to erase it all from his memory. 

It was annoyingly pleasant to see that the apocalypse had allowed at least just one of them to remain who they once were, Jungkook knew all of Yoongi’s expressions and gestures, he knew every pet peeve and every soft spot, he still knew the way Yoongi’s hair felt and the way he likes his steak cooked. 

“I thought you were dead.” He said suddenly, “I went back for you a few days later, when I could sneak away, and you were gone, I assumed you had turned and accepting that-,”

Jungkook sighed, “save it. Don’t wanna know.”

“Jk,” Yoongi sighed, placing his hwando beside him, rather than keeping it on his lap, “you don’t have to be on the defensive all the time. We’ve put you in a cell for a good reason. If you had been through the shit we’ve been through, you’d understand.” Yoongi leaned backwards, hands laid gently against the cold flooring and his longer hair falling in his right eye as he tilted his head somewhat. Yoongi was a pleasing sight to Jungkook’s brain, handsome face and perfect nature. Jungkook knew that had he not been forced to put every normal and sane thing he had going for him into a burner and set it alight, seeing Yoongi this way would have sent his heart racing and skipping beats into the amber horizon. 

“You say that like I’ve been living the life of Riley.” Jungkook mumbled, tipping his head back against the wall. There was a slight fever itching its way over his skin and suffocating him with a sheen of sweat. There was still a bullet in his leg, hopefully not too deep in the tissue and Jungkook prepared himself to pull it out of his leg. It was unpleasant to be talking to Yoongi about such things, to hear him attempt to paint them all as heroes when such a thing no longer existed. They all had done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. “I’m leaving soon.”

Jungkook certainly was not the innocent bluffing little forget-me-not he was back then, blood stained his hands more prominently than his tattoos did. The apocalypse had killed the Jungkook Yoongi once knew, once loved, Yoongi simply refused to see it, Jungkook could tell. Yoongi was desperately trying to erase the concept that Jungkook had spent the last ten months alone in the end of the world and survived somehow, refusing to see the situation any other way than Jungkook simply running out of that god forsaken store and straight into their prison cell.

Jungkook laughed slightly to himself, it was ironic somehow sitting in a cell, battered and bruised, talking to his long lost love, his long lost piece of sanity, preparing himself to pull a bullet out of his leg. Jungkook was a murderer, he had killed both the living and the walking dead, he had sacrificed many just to stay alive. Jungkook had resorted to cannibalism and malicious villainy in this condemned judgement period. In the normal world, in their seemingly ancient history, Jungkook would have ended up here too, sitting on the cold floor of a prison cell wasting away and repenting for all of his sins.

His character had developed from the flawed hero into the lunatic villain so quickly, but not easily, Jungkook’s descent into this was painful and intense, dragged out by the tugging and throwing of his conscience that Jungkook had pinned to the dirty floor and strangled one lone night after he had to leave a group of young siblings, no older than ten, to fend for themselves and ultimately perish; this world was not built for children. He left them a ration of his food, some preserved leg meat, some pickled vegetables, sugary sweets; it had been hard leaving them to die and forcing cannibalism onto their last dregs of survival, but such was life now-a-days. Tough shit. Jungkook learned to accept it. If he wanted to survive, if they wanted to survive as long as they could, then it was the toughest shit life could throw at their heads, societal do’s and don’ts no longer applied; they had to make their own.

After that night, procrastinating the end, at some point, it became fun and games, there were scattered marbles in his head and he loved scrambling around and scattering them further. Staying alive meant losing your mind and killing it if it ever snuck up on you again. Fucking with people through the end of the world became a game, Jungkook a vicious cat and those passing by him feeble, helpless mice.

“Leave?” It was a challenge, “don’t be foolish, Jk. It’ll be better for everyone if you just stay, you’ll have a better survival rate and Min won’t have to lose his little brother twice. Please, Jungkook, cooperate and just stay with us.”

Jungkook laughed, a loud and dark sound, a hollow reflection of the sound he knew Yoongi used to love to hear. “Better survival rate?” Jungkook raised his head slowly to look Yoongi right in his eyes, “what? You think I’ve survived this past year off just dumb luck, Yoongi?” Yoongi shrugged, bottom lip creased and pulled in an awkward angle so he could chew the inside of it. Jungkook shuffled over to the door of the cell. 

“You always were the lucky type. Reckless and winging your way through life. The end of the world only proved to let you do that more.”

Jungkook laughed even louder at that. Sure, he had bluffed the first handful of months and it almost got him killed. He did not make that mistake again. The others looked over at the cell up one his loud outburst. “Yeah, dumb luck.”

Jungkook had always been smart, he was cunning and sly when he wanted to be; always had been, the apocalypse had done nothing to that except blacken it with rot and negativity. He had done a 180º personality spin, no longer using his life to be carefree and sweet, his slyness was no longer like that of a puppy, that was used to trick Yoongi into thinking he had forgotten his birthday, only to surprise the older man with his favourite cake and lavish gifts. No, now he was nothing but a serpent, fooling people into trusting him or underestimating him so he could take as much advantage as possible when the time came and poison them into a painful death at the end of it.    

“Your sweet Jungkookie surviving against the odds and coming back to you is just simply a miracle, hm?” Jungkook was being patronising but the way Yoongi’s body slumped and the way tears welled in his eyes told Jungkook everything he needed to know. Yoongi did not feel patronised, in fact, he felt the opposite, so self-convinced that Jungkook was unchanged, that his existence was exactly a miracle, that having it spoken into existence pooled out into uncontrollable reactions. “You want me to stay so you can shift the guilt of what happened, you want to make sure you don’t lose me twice, right?”

“I grieved you, Jungkook. I grieved you so intensely. Ten - no eleven years together and all that was left of you was your blood stained jacket that you always refused to part with. I went back for you, I did, but you were gone.” Jungkook had no idea what jacket Yoongi was talking about, the information was not important enough to remember, but Jungkook played along. “I-, I thought you had turned!” The guilt of it all crashed down on Yoongi. Jungkook felt amused, seeing the man he once loved crumble in his hand, disillusioned by grief and relief, unalert to the danger lurking in the shadows, unaware of the hideous, evil monster feeding off of Jungkook’s soul, hissing and growling, snarling out a victorious laughter as Yoongi lifted a calloused hand to show Jungkook the rings on his fingers, one had belonged to Jungkook in another life and Jungkook had forgotten about the accessory until now, the other similar looking one, that was Yoongi’s they had bought the rings and unofficially married one another in their little living room over some greasy lamb skewers and beer. “You haven’t changed. Still doe-eyed and innocent.”

Jungkook sighed, feigned a joy he discarded a long time ago and let himself lean into the hand. The rest of them were back to pottering around but they were still listening, regarding the reunion with apprehension. “I never lost hope in finding you both. Even as the walkers brought me to my lowest points, even as I had to lose myself and do awful things; the two of you were my motivation to keep going, to keep my humanity. I had to find you.” Jungkook lied, crocodile tears wavering in his voice, “you have no idea how relieved I was to see you again.” Jungkook shuffled and his false happiness morphed into a sharp glare, there was a shooting pain, ironically, spreading over his leg and it turned up the heat in his fever; Jungkook could not take it anymore.

The bullet was irritating, burning him as if it could feel how deep his lies were and Jungkook half growled at himself and startled Yoongi slightly. Jungkook’s wrists were bound together in a cross, his right and dominant hand was face up and Jungkook opened and closed his hand quickly, moving over to the wound in his leg, “God, this bullet is pissing me off. Get out!” Jungkook just needed to do it, get over himself and pull out the bullet like it was but a splinter, only it was going to hurt beyond belief, and healing was probably going to be a nightmare, “I don’t care! It’ll heal. I know, I know it’ll hurt, Christ.”

Yoongi called his name in alarm, but Jungkook ignored him as his left hand pulled the wrap away from the wound, Jungkook groaned, groan morphing into a soft crying grunt as his fingers broke the surface of his wound and dug around for the bullet. Jungkook blocked out everything around him, determined to get the metal out of his flesh. There was blood spilling everywhere, it spread over Jungkook’s dirty hands quickly, even though only his index and middle finger were rooting around, his thumb idly stuck in his thigh awaiting its chance to pinch the pesky piece of metal and pull it out of his leg. Jungkook’s eyes were fighting the urge to roll back in pain, his leg twitched and flinched as the damaged and exposed nerves were prodded and pinched and Jungkook was sure he was shouting but he could not be sure, it could just be in his head.

He found the bullet. Pinching it and pulling it out pulled a loud, low pitched shout from his throat, a growl of agony gravelling it and Jungkook panted as the metal broke free from his leg. The relief was short lived, many hands pulling at Jungkook, removing his hands from the wound on his leg and pinning him down to the floor, “are you fucking insane?” Someone screamed at him, “stop it! Stop it! We’ll help you, you just have to stop! Tie his ties to the bed.” The bullet was clasped in his fist and Jungkook kept trying to fight them off. He did not need their help.

Namjoon’s face came into Jungkook’s vision, twine in his hands and a harsh pull at Jungkook’s bloodied hands, he looked young, older than Jungkook, but young in the face, innocent almost, but Jungkook knew better, Namjoon was cold hearted and rude, Namjoon had tried to kill Jungkook on more than one occasion. Jungkook did his best to fight all of the hands off of him, he managed to kick someone at his feet and headbutt Namjoon’s chin. Jungkook shoved aside the headache and sickness that fell onto him after the headbutt, taking the way those holding onto him reared back momentarily and let go of him, to scramble off of the bed and for the open cell door, it was hard to do injured and tied up but Jungkook would be damned if he did not at least try. He made it out of the cell, but paused at the cold lick of a blade against his neck.

“Jungkook, stop!” Yoongi pleaded, hwando drawn and pointed at Jungkook. “Just stop. How are we supposed to trust you when you keep pulling stunts like this?!”

“I got the bullet out myself, I don’t need any of you. I’m leaving, Yoongi. Leaving before he tries to kill me again.”  Jungkook was grabbed again and the hands that held him were successful in taking him back into the cell and tying him down. 

“Leaving. Right.” A thumb pressed into the wound on Jungkook’s leg as he was pinned down onto the mattress and he let out a startled yelp, “If I wanted to kill you, I would have. Sit still and let them fix this.” Namjoon said furiously into Jungkook’s ear and Jungkook, hands tied above his head tightly and legs wrapped up so tightly in twine that he thought they would fall off, had no choice but to spit into Namjoon’s face in retaliation. “Keep him awake.”

“Joon-ah, he-,”

“Shut up, Yoongi. Keep him awake and make it hurt.” Namjoon wiped his face with a rag and exited the cell quietly and left them in a tense atmosphere. 

“I got the bullet out! See!” Jungkook opened his hand and showed the room his offending item. They could leave him to heal. 

Someone sighed deeply before politely delegating instructions, Jungkook simply watched them in offence, they were ignoring him. 

“I got the bullet-,”

“I know!” Someone snapped, “but you’ve got god knows what on your hands, we need to clean it and monitor you for any… changes.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I’m not stupid enough to keep walker blood on my hands. All this is human blood.”

The two beside Jungkook ignored him, readying their equipment and they began their cleaning process. Jungkook thought it was good for their benefit that he had been tied tightly to the bed because he knew that if his hands or feet were free he would have hit whoever was cleaning his wound, or maybe outright strangled them for causing him so much pain. He’d have hurt them and would have refused to have mercy. 

Jungkook forced down the wail and refused to beg for them to stop as the smell of burning flesh and the sharp pinch of a sewing needle assaulted his senses. He’d done something like this to someone once, cut into their skin and burned the wound, sewed another wound, had enjoyed them screaming and begging for Jungkook to let them live, let them keep their limbs, begged for mercy that Jungkook never gave to them. He refused to be like that. He refused to be the prey. Jungkook was a predator, this was only fuelling his escape plan. He would make them pay. 

“He’s gonna need blood.” Seokjin mumbled, “Yoongi, go and get Namjoon. You said they have the same blood type once, right? Good, go and get him.”

“Get fucked.” Jungkook said, the two words slurred and his head spun, the fever he had been sporting only seemed to get worse and Jungkook felt like he was cooking from the inside out. “You’re not putting that bastard’s blood in me.”

“Then die.” Seokjin shrugged, sitting back and glaring at Jungkook, “Yoongi’s not gonna let you refuse.”

“Fuck Yoongi. He has no auton-auton… omy.” Jungkook said slowly, the outside world fading in and out, as the pain dominated his brain. 

“Namjoon sit there and give Taehyung your arm. Now.”

“Stay alive juss’o can kill you for this. Hurts like a bitch.” Jungkook huffed, half delirious.

Namjoon laughed, looking at Jungkook’s face amused, “hanging in there, buddy?”

“Do one… buddy.” Jungkook mocked angrily, “make you watch.” Jungkook huffed, plotting all of the ways he could make each one of them pay for putting Jungkook through all of this. Jungkook had just wanted to make it to Busan mountains and live in solitude, farming whatever he could, away from the dead, away from the living, to live and die on his own terms, at his own pace. He did not want to be here, tied to a prison bed, being operated on. Jungkook would farm them first, he thought. The six of them would be his meat preserves for a while, until he found a suitable land for his vegetables.

“Like you’d have the balls to kill something.” Namjoon rolled his eyes as Seokjin placed a needle into his arm. Jungkook scowled at Namjoon. “I remember him the first day we met. He was scared of his own fucking shadow.”

Seokjin placed the needle into Jungkook’s arm and the transfusion started. Jungkook made eye contact with Yoongi, the older man smiled genuinely, probably fooling himself into thinking Jungkook was still his, because like dying, human’s often could never accept losing those they held close to their heart and they always, always refused to accept change.

It was Jungkook’s turn to laugh, a maniacal but thoroughly entertained sound, it was the most awake he had felt since they had cut into his leg, but he could feel the strings of exhaustion begin to drag him under. “Idiot.” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse and drowsy, eyes staying locked onto Yoongi’s eyes, although his vision was blurry and his eyelids felt heavy each time he blinked. The room was silent and weighed a tonne, “people are inherently evil when competition for survival is presented to them.” Jungkook shrugged, “after you so graciously tried to kill me, never let anyone else get chance. Survived this long off of more than just dumb luck. Even put the dead bodies to good use.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hoseok asked, cautious and stern by Jungkook’s feet. He laughed softly but remained silent, eyes flickering to the underside of the top bunk. It was dirty and dingy and held the secrets of hundreds of prisoners. “Hey! What’s that supposed to fucking mean?!”

“I wonder what kind of criminal lived here, in this bed.” Jungkook mused, aware of the exchanging of looks between one another. Aware that there were thousands of words spoken in the silence. 

Jungkook needed to keep his cards close to his chest, they needed to be unaware of just how dangerous he was to let him live, but aware of how much he had changed to keep him at an arm’s length so that they could not peek behind Jungkook’s crimson curtain. Escaping would be just another game to Jungkook. Something he could take time with, something he could use for a laugh. He had all the time in the world to get to the mountains, he should at least have fun. Jungkook would be a wolf in sheep’s clothing just so that his final move could dig the knife in deeper. Jungkook had long since had his blanched feathers blackened by the soot of the apocalypse, but for now, the black swan would remain hidden in the lake’s reflection and he would swim around their little gaggle washed in an off-white, almost grey haze. Just so Jungkook can reap the joy of watching them slowly realise what lurks beneath the surface.

Jeon Jungkook was dead, they just didn’t know it yet, Jeon Jungkook was the walking dead, a creature much, much worse than the hordes of corpses they could fight off because Jungkook was multidimensional, Jungkook had ulterior motives. 

[123franksivmblog]

We went back to the Workman's Cafe.

We had planned to return as a group to the Workman Cafe. I was anxious about going.

For 1. I wasn't interested in the Cafe

For 2. I didn't want to go back

I had also moved towards a more general overview of Elephant and Castle. But I thought for the sake of socialising I would go if the group ever got round to it. We did on Monday the 28th at about 15.00. Or something like that.

I realised, as a result of the different route that we took to get there, it was actually in Borough and it seemed a bit more rough on that day. I had, had an interesting conversation with my friend from Liverpool the other day and we were discussing house prices. He was basically wondering is he poorer than everyone who lived in London? The answer was I didn't know. There was obviously massive poverty in London. Areas like this seemed rough and within poverty but I couldn't tell if the housing here was affordable. I knew there was some council homes in the area, but It seemed a lot of the flats were actually dead expensive. I was confused. For my friend I raised how the living wage here was higher than the rest of the country, but it was obviously still fucking disgusting how much rent was. I still didn't know the answer to his question though really, London is a confusing place.

We stopped to photograph the now dead flowers taped to the lamppost outside. A few weeks before they were alive and one of the things I had found interesting about the place. We said we'd ask the guy on the front about why they were, assuming someone had died there. But I lost my nerve in my line of questioning in the end and didn't get round to it. I wanted to return another time to ask.

The guy on the counter recognised us and said something like 'you're back to draw?' With some hand actions.

He asked us to draw the other guy behind the counter in a jokey kind of way. I said of course. I liked how he recognised us. It was already going better than the previous visit, the guy was very happy and smiley and I was feeling more comfortable. There was only 3 other customers, 2 girls on the far side, and one guy that I immediately suspected to be the boss, as I know how owners hold themselves when they're chilling in their business. But I wasn't sure.

I had ordered a herbal tea because I was dead ill. Yi Wing ordered a hot chocolate. We sat by the broken window, now covered up by what looked like a piece of glass glued on top of the smashed area. In fairness I had seen places to keep smashed windows for what seemed like forever so good for them for getting it sorted. I started to listen again. But the place wasn't empty so there wasn't much to listen to. So I drew some stuff. As I mentioned, I was ill, and therefore not entirely feeling up to the task.

Me and Yi started discussing questions to ask. The man who I'd assumed was the owner beat us to it. He had been on the phone and doing some managerial calculations on some paper and a laptop till then, but he had taken an interest in us now.

He asked if we were architecture students. We replied no, art ones. He told us he thought it might have been architecture because he apparently always had his daughter in taking photos of everything. I said we were there to document independent businesses in the area and draw them and stuff. He told us he always supported students. He asked if we had payed for our teas, Yi Wing told him she had a chocolate but yes. He told us we shouldn't have, which was cute, but I said we're supporting your business. He told us next time they were free, which was sweet. I hadn't really thought of a next time at this point, but I was warming to the staff and the idea of free tea.

We continued doing sketches and stuff.

After a bit the girls in the back left and we got the courage to ask the staff behind the counter some questions. The questions I had written down were fairly bad compared to what I wanted to know, but as long as we asked them something that was better than nothing. We went up to the counter and asked if we could ask some questions. They said yes. I asked 'how long had he been working here?' He thought about it and replied '4 years'. I asked 'how long had it been open?' He told me '4 years'. I asked if the fella over there was the owner and he told me 'yes'. I asked what was there before the cafe? He told me an off-licence under the same management. I realised at this point my questions were fairly boring, but at least we were learning about the place.

[kio-may]

Part 2 ー The Palace

Maleficent!Malleus x reader

--

A/n: omfg ok finally 💀💀 it was a bit rushed but oh well? ??? Enjoy <3

-

Everything went by slowly.

he didn’t realise soon, but you’d been slowly stopping. Your visits were often cut short, and he was slightly disgruntled at the audacity your people had, edging closer to the Moors, and calling out for you. Your visits started becoming more and more rare. Some days you’d show up, only to be called away a few minutes later. Some days you would send letters instead, and sometimes you also forgot to send them aswell. He understood your life had gotten more busy, getting older usually warrants more responsibilities, but he couldn’t understand when

When you stopped coming.

You eventually didn’t return. He couldn’t sense your presence, not even in your village at the distance. He suspected something sinister, and for nights his suspicion grew further

It was only when he was tethering on the edge of asking the village people themselves when your letter arrived

It wasn’t like the usual letters you sent, however.

It was of much higher quality. The paper was smooth, and the ink was clean, crisp and the letter had been folded evenly. He could tell you took your time writing it, as opposed to your formerly, more swiftly written letters you wrote, in a panic, he presumed. A part of him chuckled at the thought, and then he grew slightly worried. Had you found a job somewhere else?

The letter was much vague than former ones, too. You rarely ever talked about yourself – any questions about your job, or where you were, what you were doing, they were all simple and short. They gave nothing away. He didn’t mind anyways, you finally sent him letters.

Life wasn’t the same after that day.

You sent your final letter to him before parting. It was hurriedly written; last minute. Your hands shaking from a mix of anxiety and excitement. You’d miss him greatly, but there’s always a solution to obstacles. You sent out the letter and swiftly strode to the carriage that awaited outside.

---

You’d been appointed to work at the palace.

You don’t exactly know how; perhaps the merchant that visited your village a few months ago, or perhaps the electric green boy who often visited the town nearby with his family. You were mixed about it. In any case, it was good news for your family. You didn’t mind the humble way you and your mother lived, but you’d like to make her days much better and less worn. You couldn’t deny her tired and relieved smile either.

The nobleman was quite amused himself for a split second when he was at the door, you could tell. But you don’t like to dwell on the thought.

For a while your letters had to be stopped. You became incredibly busy at the palace, and settling in was much more tedious than you originally ought to believe. You were worried, and a part of you wanted to stay up late anyway in order to at least let him know you were alive, but the fatigue and the pounding headaches of hard labour always crumpled your hand before it could touch a quill.

Finally, you were able to write to him again. Your schedule had settled and your routine stabilized. So you started writing. You didn’t want to worry him and you doubted you were ready to tell him about your current situation, considering his distaste of the rich and the King.  So you told him about everyone else instead. You told him about the boy from your village; roughly around your age, who you met at the palace. He was in training to be a knight, just about your age. He had green hair and his name was Sebek, as he told you, proudly. Despite his arrogant front, both of you grew fondly close, being from the same village and sharing similar troubles. You told him about the Princess, who was gentle and mysterious, but oh so kind. You still kept it vague, barely masking it as a tale you just heard.

You finally could make enough time to take a leave.

You were finally permitted to visit home.

To visit Malleus.

To say you were excited was an understatement. Sadly Sebek wasn’t able to accompany you – his schedule was far different and his leave was a week away from yours. He chatted up a storm before you left, and ruffled your hair before he left you to pack up whatever else was left. He was excited for you aswell, as much as his pride wouldn’t admit it.

So, instead of Sebek, another knight was appointed to you. Something about him was off – his skill was not as close to a level of a knight as you’d seen, but the Princess assured you, so you didn’t budge.

…

You and Malleus finally met. Although it was a tad bit awkward at first, he seemed much more standoffish than you originally would have expected (not undeserved though – you agree).

“How’s life with the humans?” His half-lidded eyes bore into yours.

“it’s.. been interesting. I have a lot to say, though” you smiled sheepishly at him, rubbing your arm.

To your surprise (and relief!), he smiled and welcomed you back.

--

Both of you shared your experiences.

You noticed his eyes widen a bit at the mention of working at the palace, but he brushed his surprise off. You told him about your current life, and laughed as he sarcastically made remarks about the King.

He warmed up much more throughout your visit. He’d matured much more than when you two originally parted. He towered you now, his wings were longer and the way he carried himself was much more elegant and graceful. His eyes seemed more mischievous. You were pleasantly surprised.

Both of you walked around more; the places you’d originally visited had been covered slightly with moss, and they changed, not unfamiliar, though.

You both settled down.

And you don’t remember what happened next.

-------

It wasn’t long till your.. “promotion”

You’d been sure you (shamefully) passed out beside Malleus, after sharing some alcohol you managed to swipe from the palace’s kitchen. You don’t recall the journey back home.

It only came crashing down to you when the palace maidens started congratulating you.

You were nothing but a prize.

You were originally meant to be a concubine; for the one who managed to take down the growing power in the Moors (you knew it was Malleus, and the horror was apparent on your face). They deemed you to be unfit for a while and put you under training. The “knight” that accompanied you was going to be king.

Suddenly, it felt like the sky was much darker than before.

Being told the news, you didn’t know how to react. You entered your room and fell to your knees.

What happened?

---

The sky had been thundering for a while, and the maidens of the palace took note of your apathetic and zombie-like motions. You were barely alive, really. You were breathing,but you couldn't tell night from day anymore.

You saw it. His wings.

Tender and beautiful, like the soft night sky that reflected in ponds you used to splash around in with him. Still and unmoving. Some of his feathers were darker, near whereー

Where they should have been attached. Blood had soaked into the joints.

It was so cruel, so coldblooded. It stood in a creaking glass case, in the King's room where he was dying. The case was rotting with moss. The glass had dust on the corners, and the smell was.. disturbing. It vanished after a few days. You don't dare ask what happened to it.

You weren't even enraged at this point ー you were still deep in shock and denial. All you knew was the hatred towards the dying king made your fingers twitch, violent thoughts of helping Death himself snatch the king's wicked soul.

--

The Princess- no, Queen, was ever so gentle, as months without sleep wore her down.

You felt mocked and humiliated. You went nowhere near her, and you understood she didn't want to come near you either. She understood what happened, and decided to not further question it. Her sentences were short, curt responses, if she even looked at you. Her eyes were always downcasted when you passed by her ー you noted.

Sebek was beside you. He was officially appointed as your personal knight. You don't know who decided it exactly, but you don't mind. He'd been worried for you, as you locked yourself away in grief. He's force himself in from time to time, and force you to take care of yourself, so you wouldn't die from hunger or hurt yourself.

The storms started to swindle and calm down, and so did your mood. You'd still feel your chest heavy at the thought of him, at anything that reminded you of him, but you stopped crying finally. You didn't spare a glance at the former King's room, as it was left barren with only sunlight peering through his still preserved feathers. You swore they looked as though they were still on his body. Not a single one of those looked brittle or tearing off.

Or maybe it was just what you thought. You barely spared a glance there,anyway.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

The Queen and King had a son.

The maidens were talking about itー no, the entire palace was talking about it.

He was a fair little boy, with dream like lavender eyes. They named him Silver.

Sebek paced around in your room talking about it, and you calmly brushed your hair. He shooed away a peculiar crow on your windowsill and shut the window, a bit harshly you'd say.

"Can you believe it?!" He stood behind you, pulling his own hair, in agony.

"Yes Sebek, I can." You laughed at his reaction, putting the hairbrush away.

"They- they're going to hold a celebration!" He looked at you, frantically tapping his pockets to check for something, "they invited fairies from the Moors!"

You stilled for a second. It must have been the Queen. Only she may have known about it. Or the King was simply mocking you.

"Yes, Sebek,and we ought to welcome them.", you got up from your chair and walked towards the door, and Sebek followed closely behind as he stumbled on his words. You didn't quite notice the crow's unusual red eyes.

-----

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

-------

Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[aro-is-gay-af]

The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader | Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

I advise you to read it first, as this post is the continuation. 

Yeah, there will be Part 3 for sure. As usual, sorry for gramatical confusion and/or any mistakes.

Love you all, thank you for 100 (!) notes under Part 1. 

Warnings: Rape, Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 6768

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings’ mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

ENJOY!

You tried not to break your eye contact with Aro, as it made you unusually calm and on place. As soon as you walked through the door to the throne room you felt almost like at home. You knew it would take some time to get used to the new place, especially a place like this, though, you didn't find it repulsive or frightening.  

You sat down in the chair that Aro had pulled out for you. It was a little gesture but it made you a little less weirded out. Now, that you were alone with three kings, you were not as relaxed as you might have thought you’ll be, for your legs were trembling with exertion.

It wasn’t a surprise, though. You’ve barely eaten, been up on your feet since you got off the plane and through all day long, you were strongly convinced it was your last day on Earth. On top of this, you’ve just allowed Aro to touch your hand and then kiss it. You were certain that if it was for any other person, you wouldn’t be so willing to do so.

Aro took a seat opposite to you, whereas Marcus and Caius sat, probably, on their usual seats, not that far from you both. You were tired, but confident that some things needed to be established as soon as possible. You understood this perfectly. Also, even though Alice told you about basic things, you still were oblivious to most information.

“You have impressed me with your declaration” it was Caius who started the conversation. You looked directly at him.

“I’m not stupid, nor suicidal” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible. “At least, not anymore” you admitted, your upset tone impossible to miss. Caius tilted his head, eyeing you carefully.

“While on the plane, Alice told me briefly about basics,” you said. Seeing their stares, you rolled your eyes. “Yes, she also explained to me the laws. I knew this trip would’ve only two possible endings for me.”

Aro had known about this prior, but Marcus and Caius looked taken aback, to say at least.

“You knew you’d probably die and still came here?” it was Marcus who asked. It was a weird experience, even if you’d known him only for a few moments, to see such an authentic interest in his behaviour.

You nodded and smiled.

“Sure I did. Bella’s stupid ass didn’t give me another choice” you chuckled. Caius smiled again with that creepy smile, which he also had on his face while in the throne room.

“Stop that, brother” Aro scolded him lightly. “We don’t want to frighten [Y/N].”

Caius only rolled his eyes.

“You are familiar with the fact that I am as old as you, brother?” he asked Aro mockingly, sprawling comfortably in his chair. “There’s no need to scold me like I’m a child.”

Aro frowned.

“Yes, brother, I am certainly familiar with this. But nonetheless, you should be more gentle when it comes to [Y/N].”

Even though you’d been tired, somehow kings’ presence had risen your spirits. Also, it was quite funny to see them mock themselves like this.

“Can I say something?” you asked, visibly amused by their behaviour. You've relaxed a little and only then you felt how tired you really were.

“Of course, cara” said Marcus, who didn’t exactly talk much until now. All of them were looking at you, curious about what you wanted to say.

You smiled shyly, not being accustomed to receive so much attention at once.

“I don’t know if it’s normal but I’m not exactly…afraid of you? I guess I’m mostly curious. I wasn’t… concerned while we were heading here. Like, at all” you admitted, trying your best to find words, which would suit your emotions.

Three of them were listening very carefully, even Aro, who had already known your thoughts.

“Alice wasn’t trying to scare me, but I felt that she was extremely cautious when it came to your coven. Bella also was exaggerating with drama and I…” you immediately felt sick and couldn’t end the sentence. You were happy to maybe die? You were happy to have something to think about, other than rape? To think about something different than this unwanted child?  

It was as they felt the change in your mood. You saw Aro wanted to touch you but restrained himself from doing so. Marcus’s expression was calm but you actually thought, he was being beyond emotional about this. And Caius…he looked genuinely concerned.

You smiled sadly, as none of them said anything.

“I’m not exactly aware of how this mating bond thing works, but that’s probably the reason” you said quietly, with insecurity so overwhelming that you couldn’t look at the kings anymore.  Instead, you embraced your knees with yours arms and glanced at your feet resting on the edge of your chair.

You tried hard not to cry. You weren’t weak, you weren’t unstable. You were harmed in the most brutal way and you knew, it would take you a while to get out of this state of mind. Nevertheless, you didn’t want them to consider you weak or unworthy of their attention. Right now, they were the only ones you had in this world.

Your throat tightened and your lips trembled from the sob you denied yourself to make. One of them handed you a handkerchief, while making an effort not to touch you. You glanced up, as it turned out, at Marcus, who was holding the handkerchief in front of you.

“It is perfectly alright to cry, cara. You have no idea how many times I wished to shed at least one tear” he said, while you were wiping away yours. You believed him, of course. When you were in the throne room, at first Marcus looked completely lifeless and depressed. It changed after he spotted you, but you knew his behaviour didn’t come out of nowhere.

You’ve managed to calm yourself a little bit. After you regained your composure, Aro smiled gently at you, making you give him your full attention.

“My dear, we would be delighted to explain to you everything, but I can clearly see that you are extremely tired. So much has happened today, and the best way we can handle this, is when you are well rested. May I suggest coming back to the topic without any more delay, when you’ve had enough sleep?”

You smiled because of his intricate wording.

“Sure. Although, there’s no need for you to talk to me this way” you said amused, while also trying not to sound rude. The way Aro expressed his thoughts was extremely distinguished and you understood that this was part of his personality that he had acquired over three millennia.

Caius smiled to himself hearing your remark and Marcus didn't hide his amusement either. Even Aro seemed mildly entertained.

“Forgive me, cara mia” he said apologetically, mischievous tone of his voice never escaping your attention. “I am quite old by now” his remark made Caius laugh loudly. You laughed too.

“I don’t think your age matters in this case” you said, your spirits raised just a little bit.

 ***

 After your brief conversation, it was Marcus who showed you to your room. Well, it wasn’t exactly a room, as you had all suite to yourself. As soon as you saw it, you decided that it was really too much, that a bed would suffice, but fell silent after Marcus explained, why you needed to be isolated from others.

You almost forgot they were vampires and you could die if you walked into the wrong one. You shared your concerns with Marcus, who was extremely amused to hear about them. Only the most trusted members of the guard knew of the whereabouts of your chamber. The lower ranks didn't even know that you were staying in the castle for an extended period of time.

Marcus assured that overnight the kings would consider, who would be the most qualified to become your personal guardian. You were a bit embarrassed, as you seemed to be creating quite a problem with your presence in the castle. Nonetheless, you thanked Marcus, making sure beforehand that you would definitely see the three of them, as soon as you got some sleep.

Your chamber was huge. You could’ve sworn it was twice the size of the house you owned in Forks. You had your own bathroom, walk-in-closet and even a small kitchenette with a fridge. The star of the room was the massive bed with a mattress so soft, you felt like you were lying on a cloud. Before you went to bed, you decided to have a bath, because it would be silly to sleep in such a bed while being dirty.

While searching for pyjamas, you realised there were not many clothes in the wardrobe. Could this have been a guest room? You concluded that it was very likely. Anyway, you had nothing against guest rooms which looked like this. You found a thin-strapped, ankle-length nightdress, in a fabric so pleasant that it was impossible to resist wearing it.

The bathroom was ridiculously large, with two sinks to the left of the entrance, a huge bathtub in the middle and a shower that was built into, what you assumed, was a marble wall. On the opposite side of the entrance there was a vanity, with all kinds of beauty products and perfumes. You also didn't expect the bathroom to be in bright colours, and yet, the walls and floor were white marble, whereas all other elements were golden. You didn't even want to think about the fact that indeed, you had real gold faucets to your exclusive use.

You continued to think about the fact that it seemed too much. The lavishness overwhelmed you and, at the same time, distracted you from unpleasant thoughts. The washing up part, as always, was difficult for you. You tried not to look in the mirror at all. Eventually, you decided you didn't have the energy to try a bath, so you went for a quick shower.

It wasn't until you were in the shower, before you truly felt tired. You doubted it was an evening, but you felt like you'd just done a double shift at the hospital. It felt wonderful to have your hair washed, only to cuddle up later in an incredibly soft towel.

While changing into your nightgown, you didn't even glance in the mirror. You were unable to look at your naked body in the reflection. You were afraid, even though the bruises and wounds had long been healed.

Climbing onto the bed, you tried not to think too much. You didn't want to think about what you were going to do with the baby. You didn't want to think about the fact that you would probably have to explain to Caius and Marcus, why you were pregnant in the first place. You also didn't want to think about Aro seeing those memories. You were glad that you could fall asleep and, at least for a little while, be relieved of the burden of reality.

***

 “Alright. What is there that we need to discuss?” you asked, trying to focus. You were back in the study with the round table, except that there were many more papers and books on it than the day before.

It was the strangest morning of your life. According to what Aro told you, you slept for about fifteen hours. He was by your side when you woke up, but not in such manner as to startle you in any way. He came to ask how you were feeling and what you felt like eating for breakfast. You thought that with a kitchenette in your room you would be preparing your own meals. You were very much mistaken. When you said that you would like to eat scrambled eggs, Aro only smiled and told you to get dressed.

You didn't have time to ask what you were supposed to wear since the walk-in-closet was almost empty, but he had already disappeared. It turned out that you were wrong again. In those fifteen hours, someone had managed to restock your wardrobe at least halfway. You were too surprised to look at everything, but you had never seen such expensive and well-tailored clothes. You picked out the first pieces you were sure, you would feel comfortable in.

After a quick shower, you dressed up and when you came out of bathroom, Aro was already waiting for you. He brought you your meal and while you were eating, he would talk to you about things that were of minor importance. It was hard not to notice that he was in a great mood and you had to admit that you were sharing his optimism. He waited patiently for you to end your meal so that both of you could join Marcus and Caius in the study. If your human memory didn't fail you, a great number of issues had to be discussed.

You smiled, seeing so many papers and books on the wooden table. Caius and Marcus were sitting in the exact same places as yesterday.

“You should’ve wake me sooner, you know. I never sleep this much” you said, also sitting in the same place you were assigned the evening before. Aro sat in the chair on your right.

“You should sleep as long as you feel like it, dolcezza,” said Caius, focusing all his attention on you. You blushed a little. You weren’t used to being in the centre of attention. It didn't make you uncomfortable before, but after what happened... It was going to take some time before you could fully recover.  

“Caius is right. You should get plenty of sleep, my dear. If there’s no need to wake you up, we simply will not do it,” said Aro, whose smile has not left his face even for a moment.

When Marcus had finished whatever he was doing, you could finally move on to the conversation between the four of you. You thought that Aro will lead the conversation but, apparently, you were really going to discuss this together.

“I gathered you were a nurse before. You also worked with Carlisle,” started Aro, getting straight to the point. You nodded your head in agreement.

“Yes. I worked on Paediatric Intensive Care Unit but hospital in Forks is so small that I usually ended up also helping Carlisle with many things” you admitted, trying to divide your attention between three of them. If you were to stay a human for a little while, you needed to work on that. It was rather problematic to look at them all at once.

“We became friends when Bella started seeing Edward, but then the whole moving out thing came up and right now, I don't really know if I know Carlisle as well as I thought I did,” you said, without a trace of regret in your voice. Aro knew very well that you had a grudge against the doctor. Sure, Edward had left Bella, but you were sure Carlisle would have at least told you about the promotion. Now you knew it wasn't about that at all, and yet the grudge continued.

Aro smiled lightly, but you saw a glint of sadness in his eye.

“After you transformation I will be pleased to invite here my old friend Carlisle along with his family. I hope everything will work out fine between the two of you” he said with hope in his voice. You had no idea that Carlisle new Aro to the extent that he called him an old friend. You promised yourself to talk about this with Aro while in private.

“I’m…a bit concerned about this, actually” you said anxiously. “I know I need to become a vampire one day, but…” You never ended the sentence. Were you afraid of pain? No, certainly not. However, you wanted to begin with knowing your mates just a little bit more. You wanted to know more about this world you were supposed to spend eternity in.

“It’s perfectly alright to be afraid, [Y/N]” said Marcus, leaning closer to you. You felt stupid and young.

“I don’t think I’m afraid. I’m only…uncertain, because I know close to nothing about your lifestyle and I’m not sure I’m quite ready to experience it,” you tried to explain, as best as you could. Aro was a little bit ahead of Caius and Marcus, as he saw at least parts of such thoughts in your mind. Caius was the one to answer you.

“It understandable, [Y/N]. While you’ll be spending time with us, we’re going to explain everything to you. One step at a time, as my dear brother said earlier. And tell me, how do you like your chambers?” he asked, clearly curious about your opinion. You smiled, but it was a shy one.

“I love it, really, but, as I asked Aro earlier, isn’t it too much?” you suggested, trying not to offend him. Aro and Marcus smiled softly, Caius snorted.

“Nonsense, cara. With us, you'll have the very best of all worlds” he assured you.

“In that case, thank you, all of it is truly wonderful, although I feel a little awkward.”

Again, all three just laughed, but it wasn’t impolite in one bit. Aro put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“My dear, no need for you to fret about such things as money. The most important person to us is you and we will give you whatever you need” he assured you, still with that magnificent smile. You nodded shyly, not being able to say anything. You had only been with them in a room for a short while and you felt like you were drunk. The aura they exuded was irresistible. Simultaneously you wanted to be with each of them separately and with all of them altogether. It was not an affection, not yet, but this strange attraction did not allow itself to be forgotten easily. You yearned to be in the same room with them, just to be able to talk to them and look at each other constantly.

“I have… I have a house in Forks” you said, after a few minutes of silence.

“Would you like to sell your property?” asked Caius, raising an eyebrow. Aro was also intrigued. Marcus just continued to look at you, almost as he studied your face.

“I guess. I don't think I want to go back there again” you said quietly, recalling how many bad things happened there. You were no longer at ease, not even to mention amused. The kings, just as it happened the day before, felt the shift in your behaviour. “Ever” you emphasised, but it was only a whisper.  

Bad memories deluged your thoughts. Your mother's illness and death. Your father's accident, then his death. Also, the most recent events. You swallowed hard, trying not to cry.

“I don’t want this house. I don’t want to come back to this godforsaken place ever again,” you said, wiping away a single tear with your fingers. You were ashamed, but you could not hold back the tears that followed. You did not deserve to go through all of this.

It was Marcus who spoke first.

“Cara, Aro told us nothing about your past, but I can assure you no one is going to hurt you here. You can be certain about this” he said gently, handing you a handkerchief. You accepted it gratefully, then began to quickly wipe away your tears.

“Marcus is absolutely right, [Y/N]. There is nothing in this world that we cannot protect you from. We will always be by your side. You won’t be in danger ever again” Caius assured you, while you were still trying to get these tears under control.

Aro seemed as if he wanted to lock you in an embrace and never let you go again, but he restrained himself. You knew it was because of your memories, because he saw what happened to you, and because he literally lived through it with you. You thought that probably the latter pushed you towards this decision. Who could know better what you’ve been through, than a person who knew about all things that happened during your life? You wanted a hug, desperately, and you already knew, you could trust Aro on this one.

Once he saw the permission in your eyes, you immediately found yourself in his arms. As usual, he was immensely gentle and affectionate, stroking your hair while not touching your skin, so as not to accidentally read your thoughts. You cuddled into him trustingly, not caring that he was cold. You had known him one day and he had managed to evoke more trust within you, than friends that you had known for years.

When the crying eased and you calmed down slightly, you rested your head on his shoulder. Again, just like yesterday in the throne room, you felt as if you had been home for a long time. They were your home, not some pile of stones and a roof.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, trying not to be ashamed. Aro stroked your hair again.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, cara mia,” he assured you, with a gentle tone of his voice. You glanced at Marcus and Caius, but they only seemed at ease, as you finally were calm and not crying. Not a hint of jealousy. You didn't want Aro to let you out of his embrace and apparently he wasn't going to do anything of the sort either. You felt safe within his arms.

“Can you take care of ‘selling the house’ thing?” you asked, trying to remember what were you talking about before your emotional breakdown.

“Of course, [Y/N]. You could call Isabella later, to gather things you want to have here with you,” said Caius, exceptionally calm. Maybe his behaviour in the throne room was only an act? Or maybe he was being this way only because you were a mess and he didn’t want to upset you more than you already were.

“Yes, I’d like that, please” you said politely, wiping away the last of your tears with the handkerchief you got from Marcus.

“Are you ready to talk about the child, cara, or do you want to postpone it until some other time?” Aro asked you, trying to be as gentle with the word choice as possible. You hid your face in his jet black hair. It smelled of something you couldn't quite define, but it had a calming effect on you. You heaved a number of deep breaths. He gently caressed your shoulder.

“If you feel like sharing this, cara mia, please do. If you are unable to, do not force yourself” he advised, with so much sensitivity in his tone, that you wouldn’t expect from a man, yet alone from a vampire. It seemed that nor Caius, neither Marcus wanted to push you only to get this information.

You didn’t want to ponder about it for too long. It would definitely come to an end with you simply telling nothing at all. While you were not ready at all to talk about it, you needed to explain this somehow. You weren’t ready for any unexpected touch. You were adamant that current thing with Aro was caused by situation and your emotions. While the thought of Caius or Marcus touching you wasn’t downright awful, the idea of unexpected, unwelcomed touch made you twitch uncontrollably.

“As Aro was kind enough to mention…” started Marcus, probably to assure you no words were truly needed. You might, as well, have said it already. You didn't want anyone to accidentally touch you. You wanted to welcome the touch of your mates, just as you did with Aro a few minutes before. Being touched when you didn’t want would be catastrophic, not only for your mental health, but also for the stirring relationship with kings. It would have been worse than talking about rape itself out loud.

“I was raped a few weeks ago” you choked out, trying to make your voice sound as toneless and apathetic as possible. “I haven’t decided what to do with the… with it. Yet” you added, feeling stupid and extremely anxious. You wanted to get it over with, and at the same time you knew, it would have to be talked about at some point.

Nobody said anything. They probably waited for more words, maybe more emotions. You weren’t tense or embarrassed in front of them. Although, the uncertainty, of what were their thoughts on the topic, was a little bit intimidating. As minutes passed and you were saying nothing, Caius spoke up.

“Do you want us to kill him?” he asked, sweeping you off your feet with the question. You stared at him with amazement, completely forgetting about Aro embracing you. Your gaze didn’t discourage Caius a one bit. “Maybe some tortures first? What do you say, brothers?” he asked Aro and Marcus, his eyes remaining on you.

“Could you really do that?” you asked, before Aro or Marcus could answer. Caius started laughing out loud. There was something terrifying and, yet, incomprehensibly appealing about it. He leaned towards you.

“We would burn the whole world for you,” he whispered perilously. “If you want him to suffer, to be terrified, just as you were, say the word” he clarified, with a nasty smirk on his face. “We’ll make his last hours on Earth a living hell.”

Caius had something dangerous within himself. Something primal. He wasn’t so self-composed as Aro and as insular as Marcus. He was violent, fierce, vicious. It should scare you away from him. Only it didn’t. You believed every word he said and wanted it done. Why this little man should live his life peacefully, when you were traumatised and pregnant with a child you didn’t want in a first place?

“Revenge isn’t going to make you feel better” Aro whispered warningly into your ear, but still with calm and gentle voice.

“Yeah, I know that” you said to Aro, while still staring into Caius’s eyes. His also were crimson, but with lighter shade than Aro’s. You weren’t anxious anymore, nor were you in emotional breakdown. “But women he wants to rape will feel better if he doesn’t” you said, smiling almost as darkly as Caius. You got the feeling that you two were going to get along pretty well. Caius leaned back into his chair.

“Fantastic. We’ll talk about it more in following weeks, dear” he said, obviously pleased with the outcome of the conversation.

“Regardless if you keep the child, you’re going to be one of us” reminded Aro, to change the subject. When he mentioned transformation, you were far more conscious than few moments before. You tried not to be pessimistic about the change. You knew questions needed to be asked, but you had plenty of time to ask about anything you wanted and exactly three most experienced vampires in the world to answer them.

“We established it before, Aro” said Marcus for the first time in a while. You gathered that he wasn’t the talkative one here. You disentangled yourself from Aro's embrace and returned to your chair. Enough touching for today. However, you were sure that the sense of safety and comfort that he provided you with, would remain with you for a long time.

“I’m not able to tell you now if I want to keep the child” you said with confidence. “Anyway, I need to know what will happen, whether I decide to terminate the pregnancy or not.”

You were looking directly at Aro. You knew he had the final word here. You had a feeling how it’ll end, but you wanted to hear it anyway and have it straightforward. Aro sighed softly and smiled warmly after.

“If you’d like to keep the child, you’re going to give birth to it and when it’ll be grown up enough, it’ll become one of us” he said, his gaze extremely soft.

“Okay” you agreed. “And what if I’m not going to keep the child?” you asked, because it was the more probable occurrence. Aro saw it within your thoughts and you weren’t going to act like it wasn’t the choice you were closer to opt for. His smile remained gentle and warm, his eyes calm and soft on yours.

“The things that need to be done, are going to be done” he said, and you were extremely grateful that he didn’t use the ‘abortion’ word. You were too emotionally unstable to talk about it so straightforward. “We are going to know each other a little bit more. You’ll also meet our most trustful guards to feel safe. When you’ll be ready, one of us will change you” he explained, as simple as he could. You smiled at him a little sadly.

“Alright. Do I have any time limitations?” you asked curiously, throwing a quick glance at Caius and Marcus.

“No, dolcezza. You can take as much time as you want. You’re finally with us. That’s what truly matters to us” he reassured you. He was neither angry nor upset with the thought of you postponing transformation till the child is being born.

“One step at a time” he said cheerfully and smiled. You also smiled. It was almost impossible not to. “Cara mia, you’re so pretty when you smile. I hope you’ll be able to do that more and more here” this sentence made you blush. All three of them laughed, which made you blush even more.

“Thank you” you whispered, but it was a little unsure and hesitant. You saw concern on their faces.

“May I ask you one more question?” this time it was Marcus who asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Have you checked how far along are you? You’ve told us that maybe you’ll want to terminate the pregnancy, but my concern is about your health and how your body is going to catch up with the decision of yours, regardless what it’ll be” he said, very politely, trying not to offend you. You appreciated that dearly.

Marcus did ask very good question, though. You had no idea how far along you were. It was at least three months since it happened, so your first trimester should be over very soon.

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked. I couldn’t find the courage to do so. The only thing the doctor did, was to confirm the pregnancy” you answered, trying hard to remember if something else was being said.

“We should probably call the doctor, then” said Marcus, concern noticeable in his voice. Aro and Caius agreed with him, so did you.  

“So, do I have my own cook at my disposal?” you asked to change the subject and relieve tension a bit. Enough of difficult subjects for today.

“Ah, yes, my dear, of course!” said Aro with extreme enthusiasm. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast today. If something isn’t the way you want it, tell any of us right away.”

“Oh, yes, I did! Hey, and I told you that already!” you said, quite amused. “Am I not supposed to be the one, who forgets?” you asked, laughing.

Caius laughed most loudly, clearly amused by what you’ve just said. Aro smiled, watching you being in better mood, than before. Marcus was just Marcus, but he also smiled.

You spent the rest of the day with the kings, talking about many important and less important things. Mostly, you talked about the matter of selling your house, the things you will want to have with you in the castle, the fact that you should give up your job and your personal guard. The latter has been the cause of endless discussion. Later that evening, Aro decided that Renata, his personal guard, would be temporarily assigned to you.

You wanted to argue but there was literally no point in it. You knew that for the time you were still human, you had to have some sort of guard, because you couldn't even handle half a vampire on your own. You weren't tired at all, so after eating dinner you spent time with Caius and Marcus, trying to figure out what you could do together to get to know each other better. Unfortunately, Aro was obliged to attend to some important business, but in this case, you had already established some kind of a bond with him.

Caius and Marcus deeply respected your wish not to touch you in any way. You visited the library and were sure you had simply fallen in love. Sadly, most of the books were written in languages the existence of which you were previously unaware. Marcus was more than happy to offer you to study with him. To begin with, learning Italian. You had not yet discovered what Caius liked to do, but you were sure you would soon find out.

When they too had to attend to important matters, they escorted you to your room, and you decided it would be a good idea to call Bella. Not just about the house, but generally to let her know you were alive. When you’ve finally reached her, you both couldn’t shut up.

“Hi, sister!” you squeaked, overly excited. You heard her laugh.

“Hi! Are you fine, [Y/N]? I was starting to worry, the only thing that kept me from calling you was Alice,” she said and you laughed.

“Hi [Y/N]!” you heard Alice in the background. You threw yourself on the bed, so that you could lie on your stomach. You hugged your pillow and made yourself comfortable.

“Hi Alice!” you greeted her, smiling to yourself like a mad person, who you probably were, given the circumstances. “I’m happy to hear you, Bella, seriously. Are you at Cullen’s place?” you asked curious, as where Alice came from.

“Yeah, exactly. We were all worried here, you know” she admitted, you heard how anxious she was. You couldn’t help it but laughed.

“Well, how could you leave me in the lion's den like that” you joked and heard someone’s laugh.

“She’s fun. I need to meet her” you heard again and also laughed.

“This will probably happen sooner rather than later,” you answer to this mystery someone with confidence. Bella’s side fell silent. “But, you know, I guess I’m okay. I had fifteen hours of sleep today and the best scrambled eggs in my entire life” you admitted cheerfully, thinking about you waking up and eating your breakfast in Aro’s presence. You smiled widely. You heard someone talking in the background, but you had no idea what was this all about.

“That’s good because I was worried sick when we got out of that room” Bella admitted, trying to sound not too worried, though.

“It’s better than fine, you know. And how are you? You seriously were as white as a sheet while in throne room” you said and this was your turn to be worried about Bella again. “Hey, and I hope this asshole isn’t going to leave you again. My threat is in force,” you said in a threatening tone, knowing that Edward could definitely hear it. You heard the same laugh as before plus Bella’s laugh.

“I’m sure he’ll not be doing it again. Carlisle has already scolded him decently.”

Your heart ached a little after hearing Carlisle’s name. You thought he was your friend, or maybe it was beginning of friendship, and now you had no idea what to think about it at all.

“Good. How are you, Bells?” you asked again, hugging your pillow tightly.

“I’m okay, really, [Y/N]. No need to worry about me.”

Of course you were going to worry about her. She was just like a little sister to you. No way you’d stop worrying. Suddenly, you remembered what happened in the throne room and became seriously concerned.

“Have you set a date?” you asked, and again, the other side fell silent. This time completely. You sighed heavily. “I’m not a spy, you know, but I’m worried about you. We will need to talk about all of this. I get why didn’t you tell me, but, seriously Bella, your self-preservation instinct does not exist,” you scolded her, just a little. You had a feeling that she gave no fucks, no matter what anyone could say about this situation.

“Says the “I’m staying here, Bella” person” she gritted out with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes.

“One, they wouldn’t let me leave. Two, you were in danger and I was alright with sacrificing myself to save you. Three…” this time you fell silent, realising something important. “…I wouldn’t go. I’m not able to. This bond, whatever it is, it’s strong shit. You probably now it, as you have this with Edward. I have got it triple.”

After really long moment of complete silence, Bella spoke up.

“Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?” she asked, her question as heavy as storm clouds. You sighed.

“Because I’ve got nothing to live for, ya know? I was prepared that I wouldn’t get out alive,” you admitted with sad voice, but it was downright true.

“You’re pregnant, [Y/N]” she said, like it was something, which could immediately improve your well-being and quality of life. You felt like throwing up.

“Yeah. I’m pregnant with the child I don’t want, with a man I’ve never met, who forced himself on me and made my life more miserable than it already was. I should probably send him a card or something because, guess what, I’ve never considered that my life is going to be more crappy than it already was after my parents’ death.”

When you ended the sentence and no one said anything, you just sighed heavily.

“You’ve got the date set?” you asked again, merely curious about this and to change the topic.

“Not yet” she said, her voice sad and full of emotions.

“Then do it. They’re patient, to some extent, but don't tempt fate. I don’t want to attend yet another funeral,” you said bitterly, trying not to think at all.

“How can you be so calm about all of this?” Bella snapped suddenly, making you shift uncomfortably on bed.

“And how you can be so calm? How was this your fucking plan from the very beginning? Once again, I try to understand you, while not understanding you at all” you snapped too, tired of any games. Before she could answer, you continued:

“I’m not coming back. I wanted to ask you if you could go to my house and get some things, I can make you a list if it’s going to be easier.”

You thought telling her this right away would be better than if she wasn’t aware for weeks or months.

“What?! Why aren’t you coming back?” she asked with raised voice. You wanted to shout and scream but you didn’t. It was too much for one day.

“Because I’ve got nothing to come back to. You’re going to be a vampire anyway, so I’ll see you in some time. I’m selling the house and I want to leave the past exactly where it belongs” you explained, trying not to yell. The hormone fluctuations didn't make it easy for you at all.

Another silence. You were tired of all of this.

“Can you do this for me, Bella? Because if you can’t, I’m sure…”

She didn’t let you finish.

“Of course I’ll do it for you. Can we talk tomorrow about the details?” she asked, her voice calmed a bit.

“Yeah, sure. It’s well after midnight here anyway, so I should probably go to sleep. I’ve got doctor’s appointment tomorrow in the afternoon” you said, trying to sound casually. Last thing you needed now was to argue about anything with Bella.

“Okay, so, call me tomorrow?” she asked. “And be safe.”

“You too, Bells. Take care. I love you, sis” you said, trying to stop the forthcoming tears.

“I love you too, [Y/N].”

Long after this phone call, you couldn’t get yourself to sleep. You tried bath this time, but it was mostly useless. At least, you were clean. First time after the rape, you decided to touch your belly on purpose. It began to curve gently, and, apart from that, you still felt pain and pressure in your breasts. You put on a nightdress and went to bed, this time actually trying to get some sleep. You also tried not to think too much about what the future would bring.

[thesolferino]

⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

[flowercrown-bard]

I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn��t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

--

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

[wifeylouis]

Louis Tomlinson writes queer love songs about the queer experience.

Louis is a prolific songwriter who has penned most of the iconic One Direction songs and has written on every single one of the songs from his debut album Walls. LGBT+ fans have always resonanted with Louis’ song writing and most of us have picked up on the very obvious queer coding. Many people seem to dismiss Louis’ outcries about his sexuality through his songs and I’m here to bring back the attention to all the gay anthems Louis has given us! 

Before someone brings up the fact that Liam Payne has written on these songs too, in his own words, he focused more on melodies and Louis on the actual lyrics!

In One Direction:

1. Strong

I'm sorry if I say, "I need you" But I don't care, I'm not scared of love 'Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong That you make me strong?

Here Louis talks about not being scared of loving his partner and asks them if it's so wrong for them to be in love and to need each other. A very common thing gay people are told is that it’s wrong for us to love our significant other. Louis is trying to make his lover realise that it’s okay for them to do so, and that there's nothing to be afraid of.

Think of how much Love that's been wasted

People always Trying to escape it Move on to stop their heart breaking But there's nothing I'm running from You make me strong

Many older gay people have remained in the closet all their lives and have tried to “escape” from their truths and from who they really are, because they have been (and still are) afraid of rejection or the heartbreak they might face if they were out. 

Specially back when things were even worse for the community, gay people would remain in straight marriages and even have children - take the example of Philip Schofield, the british presenter who only came out as gay this year after 27 years of marriage. 

Louis, on the other hand, says that he isn’t ashamed of who he is and he isn’t running away from his true self. He knows who he loves and is proud of himself. 

2. Alive

My mother told me I should go and get some therapy I asked the doctor, "can you find out what is wrong with me?

Here louis refers to how families and society often tell us that being gay is something that needs to be fixed. The “doctor” could be a reference to conversion therapy that many gay people in homophobic religious families are forced to go through. If you grow up around that mindset, you might really wonder if something is wrong with you. 

She said, "hey, it's alright Does it make you feel alive? Don't look back Live your life Even if it's only for tonight" She said, "hey, it's alright If it makes you feel alive"

So the doctor tells him that it’s okay to be himself and to live his truth, love who he loves, because all that matters is doing what truly makes him “feel alive” which is being himself. 

I whispered something in her ear that I just can't repeat She said, "okay" but she was worried what her friends will think She's going crazy Can't contain it She asked me, "what should I do, oh?"

Those of us who have been in a closet have at some point worried about our friends finding out, I know that I have been careful of being with another girl if there was a chance my friends would find out about it. We all know the theory that if you replace the girl in Alive with a man, the song changes its  meaning. It clearly becomes a song about a guy hooking up with another man at the same party, and him worrying about what his friends would think about him being with another guy. Louis is telling him what the doctor told him: that it’ll be alright, and that he needs to do what makes him feel alive! To be who he is and to live his truth freely. I love this theory for the song because it makes so much sense!

3. Through the dark 

You tell me that you're sad and lost your way You tell me that your tears are here to stay But I know you're only hiding And I just wanna see you

Here he's probably referring to a lover or a friend who was maybe afraid to accept themselves. This song reminds of Taylor Swift’s "Seven" where she sings about a friend who will no longer have to be in the closet if they leave their homophobic home and come live with her. Louis is telling a friend, who has lost their way trying to find themselves, that their true self is still there, hiding under that blanket of shame and self hatred. 

You tell me that you're hurt and you're in pain And I can see your head is held in shame, But I just wanna see you smile again See you smile again

The theme of “hiding” and “shame” are obvious references to internalised homophobia and Louis is telling his friend or lover that he wants to see them happy, wants them to accept who they are. Throughout the song he reminds them that he will always be there for them and that he will support them and love them regardless of what society might say. He just wants them to be happy and to be themselves. 

4. Ready to run

There's a moment when you finally realize There's no way you can change the rolling tide

All of us have had that moment when we realised we were queer, for some of us it happened at a young age and for some of us later on in life. But that moment of realisation and coming to terms with our sexuality is a shared experience for the entire community. Louis talks about that moment, about realising who he is and not wanting to change it because the truth is there and he’s accepted it. 

There will always be the kind that criticize But I know, yes I know we'll be alright

As LGBT+, we face a lot of criticism from society and Louis talks about how he doesn't care about who stands against him and his lover, he knows they’ll be alright because he believes in their love. 

 5. End of the day

All I know at the end of the day is you want what you want and you say what you say And you'll follow your heart even though it'll break Sometimes All I know at the end of the day is love who you love There ain't no other way If there's something I've learnt from a million mistakes You're the one that I want at the end of the day

A wlw anthem! Louis really does love his sapphics and this song was easily claimed by his wlw fans. He again talks about staying true to himself and living his truth even if he might face rejection and heartbreak, he can’t change who he is. A common phrase associated with the LGBT+ community is “Love is Love”. Louis speaks on the same theme and says that nothing can change him because he knows who he loves and there’s nothing wrong with who he loves and wants. He talks about how he's not afraid of being in love with this person and he's ready to say what he wants about his lover, because he's not ashamed of his feelings in any way or form. And he’ll follow his heart even though he might be rejected. 

The priest thinks it's the devil My mum thinks it's the flu But girl it's only you

He refers to the “priest” and “mom” like he did with the “doctor” and “mother” in Alive. Religion tells us that being gay is something wrong and evil, our family tells us that it’s just a phase that we will get over, and Louis talks about these elements in many of his songs. But he knows that there’s nothing wrong with his feelings, it isn’t a phase or a trend for him, he loves who he loves and there’s no other way. 

7. Home

Make a little conversation So long I've been waiting So let go of myself and feel alive

Here Louis refers to the feeling of being “alive” once again. Being who he really is makes him feel like he’s truly living. He’s finally “letting go” of himself, as in coming to terms with who he is. 

So many nights I thought it over Told myself I kind of liked her But there was something missing in her eyes

Louis leaked Home even though it wasn’t a single and even tweeted a little Home emoji for it! This song was quickly claimed by LGBT+ fans as exclusively for us and we even started Project Home for it. Here he talks about how he tried to make himself believe he liked this girl, but at the end of the day he knew it wasn't right and there was something missing. Most of us have tried to make ourselves believe that maybe we’re just confused, and many of us have suffered through comp-het, or giving heterosexuality one last chance before realising that something’s wrong and this isn’t for us. 

I was stumbling, looking in the dark  With an empty heart But you say you feel the same Could we ever be enough? Baby we could be enough

There was a point in time where he was confused, figuring out where he fell on the spectrum, he was “stumbling” through this journey of self acceptance and he found his lover along the way. Someone who told him that they felt the same way he did. This is again a common shared experience in the LGBT+ community, finding comfort in realising that there’s other members of the community around us who are like us, we are not alone in this struggle. Finding that person who felt the same way he did, was enough for him.

I see the smile as it starts to creep in It was there, I saw it in your eyes

Referencing the missing something in the girl’s eyes from before, Louis says that he’s found it in his lover’s eyes. They’re happy, they know who they are, they’ve accepted themselves. I also made a connection here with a lyric from Louis’ song Walls where he sings “Looked you in the eyes, saw that I was lost” perhaps implying he could no longer find that “something” in his lover’s eyes, he no longer feels the same way. Louis’ songs have many easter eggs and little references to eachother, it’s amazing how he’s writing a story through his songs and no matter which album or era you pick a song from, they all link with eachother and can be written down like a cohesive story. He’s a really brilliant, smart songwriter. 

In his debut album Walls:

Something to note here, Louis hasn’t used a single pronoun in the entirety of Walls. Unlike the unnecessary “girl” in awkward places that were forced into One Direction songs, Louis’ debut album is a beauty, gender neutral piece that is relatable to everyone, regardless of who are partner is. 

7. Too Young

Oh, I can't believe I gave in to the pressure When they said a love like this would never last

Being LGBT+ as a regular person is hard enough, but being a gay man in the homophobic music industry is near to impossible. Louis talks about the pressure and hardships he and his lover may have faced under their label and management, considering how restrictive, abusive and controlling Sony Music is, it isn’t far-fetched to think that Louis is referring to the pressure his relationship may be under because of contracts and agreements. The industry is homophobic, the artist is a product and the listeners are the consumers, and gay men in pop music aren’t exactly seen as marketable by the executives. A “love like this” is obviously referring to queer love, and being told that it’s phase that will pass, or that it won’t last because they won’t let it last.

8. Habit

I took some time 'cause I've ran out of energy Of playing someone I heard I'm supposed to be But honestly, I don't have to choose anymore

Louis talks about being tired of playing a character, hiding his true self and being someone he isn’t because thats what hes told to do. Again, this could be a reference to that “pressure” he felt in Too Young, and also an obvious reference to a closet. All of us who have been closeted before or are in the closet right now, know that our day to day public lives feel like playing a character, acting like the person society expects us to be. Straight men don’t experience this, they don’t have to play someone else because they are exactly what society expects of them already. Louis is tired of that, and doesn’t want to choose between that pressure of the hiding and being his true self. 

 9. Only the brave

It's a church of burnt romances And I'm too far gone to pray

Only the Brave is the last song on Louis’ debut album, and was quickly claimed by his LGBT+ fans as a second sister to home, another gay anthem. In the track by track, he says “Love is only for the brave”. Bravery and pride are two words commonly associated with the LGBT+ community, pride is an integral part of us and we are extremely brave for being ourselves and loving who we love in a society that tells us that we are wrong for doing so. Here, Louis again brings up religion and his relationship with it. This is a recurring theme in his songs. The “burnt romances” are obviously queer romances that the “church” or all religion has killed, by telling us we are wrong or evil for being who we are. Alot of gay people have a bad relationship with religion, mostly because we are so demonised by it. “Too far gone to pray” definitely refers to how gay people are told that if they pray or if they hadn’t strayed from religion they might be able to “cure” themselves. In this case he says that he can't do that anymore, because he KNOWS who he is and doesn't need religion to tell him. He’s too far gone to turn around and try to “fix” himself, instead he doesn't need that fixing at all. 

And they'll say, "I told you so Come on, when you know, you know"

Something most of us have heard when we come out of the closet, is people saying “they knew all along” and this is a reference to that. It can also be interpreted as knowing who we are when the time comes. Most of us have had our gay awakening at some point in life, when that moment comes, we realise who we were all along. Louis himself has been outed multiple times in his career, once even by The Wanted, he might be referring to how people will say that they had known all along when they find out the truth about him. 

Additional: 

10. Just Like You 

“Twenty-five and it's all planned”

Louis announced Just Like You as a song for the fans against his label’s wishes on 11th October 2017, also known as National Coming Out Day. His LGBT+ fans knew it was another outcry from him about his sexuality, reaching out to his community through his music. Here he talks about how his entire career has been planned, perhaps referring to Too Young and Habit, playing this character because he’s been forced into it, because that’s what's written down for him by the management and labels. His fans have always picked up on certain mannerisms and things he does and says that look forced, and are probably a result of controlled media training of his body language and words. 

Yeah, I feel the same as you would do Same stress, same shit to go through I'm just like you If you only knew

The “you” here is the LGBT+ community. Time and time again Louis has been alienated from his own people, and through his music he reaches out to us and tells us that he’s the same, he goes through the same troubles and hardships and faces the same societal pressure that we face when it comes to being who we are and loving who we love. 

I wanna lay where she lays

This is the one of the only pronouns Louis has ever used in his solo music but his fans quickly picked up on the real meaning behind it. “She” lays next to a man, and Louis might be referring to how gay men are told that men should not lie with men, and he says that if he had it his way, he could be lying where “she” is, as in next to the man, his lover. 

Louis also released a beautiful lyric video for Just Like You where he added newspaper articles about various topics ranging from Black Lives Matter, racial inequality, police brutality, feminism, sexual assault and the LGBT+. There are many easter eggs and hints to pick up on in the video including a clipping of a crossed out “What is your sex” column and using a separate clipping of the letter “S” over the word “He” to form “She”, a reference to gender neutral pronouns or the “He” that he wants to lay next to. 

 There are many themes that are recurring in Louis’ music, specifically religion, societal pressure, having to hide and be someone society expects him to be, being told that there’s something wrong that needs to be “cured”. All of these are a common part of the queer experience, something all of us have been through and shared with eachother. That’s why Louis’ music resonantes with gay fans, because the words he writes and sings tell a story that all of us have lived, and a straight man could’nt do that. LGBT+ artists queer code through many ways, clothing, mannerisms, art, Louis does it through songwriting. He may be in a tightly controlled, restrictive situation but he has a positive outlook on life, he is proud of who he is, he constantly reaches out to fans and his community through the only way he can, his songwriting. He’s given us many gay anthems  and has helped many fans, myself included, come to terms with our sexuality and accept ourselves because his music told us that it’s okay to do so. I’m grateful to Louis for giving me that acceptance and love that all of us seek through his beautiful songs. It’s time we stop invalidating Louis’ struggles and the amount of times he has reached out to his community and tried to show us his true self. 

Can’t wait for our next big gay anthem in LT2!

[sunlightnmoonshine]

In the end (pt. 1)

It feels a little surreal that the show is over and I will no longer have anything to look forward to because the devil judge set such a high bar in terms of writing and character exploration that I will always hold dear to my heart. Given that its actually done, I found myself drowning in the realisation that we will never see these characters again and how I feel about where the show left them off. So this is me coming to terms with it:

1. Min Jung Ho - Snake lol. Something I admired about the writing was how they didn't try to make him all out some evil piece of shit but rather someone that had a very strong misguided belief off some strange frustrations against Yohan who was changing the legal system more radically but effectively. Which he could not come to terms with. In the end he villanised Yohan and ignored the actual problems that persisted and inevitably contributed to the problem all in a sense of self righteousness, ah sorry, hypocrisy is the better word. The show leaves him looking oh so pathetic, he can't even raise his head to meet Gaon, the boy he betrayed severely and he'll rot for the rest of his life going down in history as a hypocrite who did nothing to actually fix the system he claimed he would be the arm of justice for. Its a fitting end.

2. Heo Joong Se: Clown. The show really said he's a spoilt, stubborn arrogant joke until the end. Down to the way he insulted everyone but specifically insulted women. The way all he did in that court room was scream his head off without an ounce of remorse somehow still deluded by the fact that he's doing this for the country? But knowing fully well he's a businessman through and through and that was all he will be. I can not stress how phenomenal it is that it is Jung Sun Ah that shoots him dead. Its clear he's had it coming from her hand ever since she tried to suffocate him during the massage but it's just how randomly she does it. She's sick of him, she's aware she's going to be targeted, she's aware he's done too much behind her back and never once respected her and its in the midst of one of his screaming fits particularly screaming "I am the King" that the bullet goes through and there's silence. Perfection.

3. The rest of the clowns of the SRF : idle bystanders that turned an eye away from inherent evil and repeatedly benefitted off of their actions without an ounce of remorse yet again. But hilarious nevertheless because they really became jesters on that stage in a desperate fit to live, threw themselves away to get out a door. It's noteworthy that they spent most of their time trying to stop the other from leaving instead of quietly watching and just getting out. None of them of are capable of that, they only know to take from others. Crumbling under the systematic stage they built? Poignant. I don't really care what anyone says they deserved to die point in tow with HJS who saw human life as so unworthy of it wasn't their own. There's a reason why human trafficking is considered one of the worst of crimes, human experimentation falls closely next to it. All because they were poorer than them. Guess their greed really out did them. Tried to put on a show in a court house which was anyway all just a staged facade and ultimately they died on that stage with their masks out for everyone to see. For their people to see them throw each other away to live. If they were going to throw each other away - their own kind- what wouldn't they do to the lower class? Oof the show gave them what they deserved- humiliation.

4. Jung Sunah - I still struggle to come to terms with how she's gone and how painful everything about her was until the last minute. It's clear Sunah has been breaking for a few episodes now. She's so close to the top and she's realised how truly alone she is and she's realised Yohan will never want her the way she wants him to. She's realised every person she used to get to where she was, ended up being wasted stepping stones because she doesn't have what she wants all the way at the top and never will. The way the show has her quietly go to the experimentation centre and weep over the girl she saw herself in but someone she initially turned away from because she's not part of her bigger plan. The child she left to fall prey to the people Sunah has inevitably helped secure positions in her attempt to secure her own position. The way the show focuses on how the child has been repeatedly pierced with needles something Sunah hates the most and how she realises this is also her fault. She probably thought hey I'll get to the top and do things my way but as Yohan pointed out, ruling over trash isn't it, it'll never be worth it and she's essentially walking with a target on her back and she'll never be free because the weight of her sins will catch up to her and the rich will always be after her because she's not the same as them. She would be living on the edge forever. And she knows this.

Something I found very interesting was how she wasnt roped in on the crimes of the Dream House Project. Yohan only highlighted her crime as having killed K and Soohyun and its the frustration she feels in that moment that really gets me. It's also why I think she could never get out of the show because she killed innocent people which is highlighted repeatedly and at the time never showed remorse for it. BUT I love how the show somehow saves her from humiliation, until the end they paint her with regality and power because that is who Sunah is. Frankly she could have walked right out of the door while they were throwing a fit and Yohan would have let her because that was the terms of the game but he'd have come after her at some point and even if he didn't Gaon most certainly would have.

But it's the way the show brought it all back to how she feels about Yohan since he's the other half of what she's always wanted, the way she's happy he's alive, how she goes and stands in front of him and she's got her hand on the trigger of the gun while Yohan on the button of detonator. I believe, if Sunah had shot him Yohan would have detonated the bomb and died with them and I also believe deep down Sunah knew Yohan would somehow get out of this even if she didn't shoot him, so she really gave him the chance to get out and back to Elijah. I am not sure if Sunah couldn't shoot Yohan or if she didn't want to, and I lean towards the latter because she really liked him, it might have been ill placed desire but if things were different if she hadn't sided with the SRF in hopes of getting to the top she and Yohan might have worked things out and they would both be healing. If she only hadn't killed the innocent people to make a point... But at the end of it Sunah took her fate into her hands and I appreciate that the show gave her the agency over it, to decide not to shoot Yohan because she's finally letting go ( I stand by this but if Yohan had died Sunah would have lost - she never wanted him to die), because she won't do what the rest of the SRF scum want of her and because she's fine with going on her own terms.

That doesn't mean it didn't hurt though... I cry thinking about it because the show tried really hard to show how unfair everything was to Sunah and how if circumstances had been different, if the world had cared a bit more how she might have turned out differently. Her final moments the flashback to the one act of kindness she had needed in her life, the way Yohan really must have sparkled in her eyes, and how much she valued that moment all the way to her death because no matter what, in his own loneliness and difficulty he was kind to her. Jeez it hurts.

Ideally I'd have wanted her to live but I don't know how that would have worked out. At the end of it not all villains are evil. Some are products of the ills of the system that left them alone and let them become monsters but behind a monster there can also be a victim.