#reckon with your pain and make sure it never happens to anyone else. only the harmed can make the greatest teachers

[mydr3aminvi0let]

i wear a lot of skirts and pink and whatnot as my style has developed with me & my personality but when one of those age regression girlies latch onto me....i do not like that

[kasagia]

i was just rereading “losing your memory” and wondered, how do you think everything would’ve ended if coryo had won the election and now had the “upper hand”? cause if he tried to coerce the reader into a relationship it seems unlikely that she would comply willingly, but also it’s doubtful that she would go with him if he tried persuading her too because of how much power he now holds

And that's very interesting, dear anonymous! 🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵

You're right. If LYM Coriolanus had won the election, the reader would definitely not have come back to him or let him pursue her.

She has a strong character, is not afraid to make controversial decisions, and practically does not care about anyone's opinion except her own. She knows the Capitol's games; she knows how to play them and present herself well, and she will do so as long as she sees the point in her actions and is happy with them. I wanted to present her as... a force to be reckoned with, a someone who will stop at nothing to prove her point and get what she wants (of course, she has certain moral boundaries that she will not cross. Let's call it the blessed influence of Sejanus, which Coryo hates).

She only has one weakness, Coriolanus. Just like he has her as his weakness.

They are similar and, at the same time, different on many levels. While Coriolanus is more severe and merciless, spreading terror to maintain power and respect, the reader uses gentler means. Of course, she doesn't pardon everyone, but under her rule, peacekeepers are supposed to really keep the peace, not herald pain, suffering, and torture to the innocent ones.

Coriolanus throws threats left and right (of course, elegantly intimidating people so that no one else finds out), and the reader silently plans her revenge, smiling sweetly at the potential enemy. Her opponents do not know WHO could have brought them down. They don't expect to be hit. I think it's a bit like water and fire, but they have one shared purpose: The best future of Panem. To make sure that no one will know the pain they felt (mostly the pain the reader has seen in Coryo, Sejanus, Lucy Gray and all of them, because, well... her past isn't so clearly defined, is it?)

SO WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF LYM CORIOLANUS WON THE ELECTION:

If he had won in The Grudge…

"Just leave." he says, his eyes averting from you as he stares at the window overlooking the Capitol. You walk up to him and place your hand on his shoulder. He turns his gaze away from the city in front of him and looks at you questioningly, not understanding what you are doing right now. 'Coriolanus... I..." "And the president of Panem becomes… Coriolanus Snow! Congratulations, Mister President!" the hosts' shouts and fanfare echo from the television, interrupting you. It takes you a while to realise what happened. Your hand falls from his shoulder as you stare dazedly at the TV behind him. He won. He became president. Realisation hits you. You have no idea what will happen next. And... you're afraid. You are afraid that HE will never be close to you again like he used to. That after gaining the power he dreamed of, he will reach further. And the last few weeks... the last few weeks, maybe even months—had shown you that you couldn't live without him next to you anymore. You couldn't pretend anymore that he meant nothing to you. You knew he wouldn't let you do that. Because the terrifying truth was that... You needed Coriolanus Snow… as much as he needed you. "You won't even shake my hand? Am I not worth even that, Y/N?" He asks. You are not even aware that he had spoken to you. You act automatically. You shake his hand with a forced smile, knowing full well that he won't let you just move on. Neither of you could. You had two choices. Save yourself from him or stay with him, try to change him. However, you were no longer naive enough to believe that he could become someone else for you. Not after getting everything he wanted. There was one thing missing from his victory. You. And you're not going to give in to him that easily.

The reader does not take great risks if it is unnecessary, but she is ready to make sacrifices and 'abandon' the life she knows. And she herself says that if Coriolanus won, she would try to escape from the Capitol and disappear from Panem.

So that's what she does.

After this event, taking advantage of the fact that Coriolanus is too busy taking over the position of president, the reader prepares false documents and prepares to escape from the Capitol.

She doesn't listen to the advice of her parents, who still believe that she and Coriolanus will be together, and she doesn't tell anyone about her plans.

She, by herself, is in personal contact with the people who organize the transportation of people outside the Panem. She wants to have as few people as possible involved in her 'disappearance'.

So at dusk, she takes the small bag with her things and runs away.

She travels from district to district, avoiding all peacekeepers. She dyes her hair a different colour and dresses like a citizen of the district. She tries her best to blend in as little as possible, and she succeeds.

For a while, of course. Because Coriolanus will not rule without his First Lady by his side. He raises the alarm and makes up the story that you were kidnapped by rebels and that the Capitol and Panem need to get THEIR FIRST LADY back. Yes. He calls you that in public. And he personally gets involved in the search.

That's why you know you have to run. Run as fast as you can.

And just when you thought you could get away from him, he finds you.

Breathing quickly, you push through the crowd of people around you, hiding your face in the scarf around your neck. He was here. Coriolanus. You saw him when you were about to board a ship that was supposed to illegally transport a small portion of people out of the Panem. And just when you were about to give the secret password to the carrier, the port was swarming with peacekeepers. With Coriolanus at the forefront. You pushed and ran as fast as you could through the crowd of people, turning back every now and then. You know he noticed you. That he raised an alarm among his men that you were somewhere close. You had very little opportunity and time. You had to find a hiding place quickly if you didn't want to fall into the hands of President Snow. But apparently, you've already used up all your luck. You managed to avoid him for a year and outsmart him and his men. And now, when you were in the district you visited the least, which streets you had not had the opportunity to get to know thoroughly, you ran ahead blindly. And Coriolanus took advantage of it. You stop dead in your tracks as you turn into a side street and suddenly see a dead end in front of you. You look around, looking for any way to get out of it. A ladder to the roof, a manhole to the sewers, anything. But there is nothing that can help you. You scream at the top of your lungs as someone's arms wrap around you. You frantically struggle against the tight grip, shouting threats and curses. "Shhh. It's me, calm down, it's me, my little diamond." He whispers in your ear, which only increases your panic. He holds you tighter to him and puts his hand over your mouth. "It's okay; it's okay. That's enough. Everything will be okay. We'll go back to the Capitol, we'll get married, and we'll be happy. Everything's okay. Just don't leave me. Don't leave me anymore. You can't. Please, Y/N, I can't take it. Just stay. Don't fight anymore. There's no point. We belong together and nowhere else. I'll forget everything; just come home with me." You're crying. You tremble in his arms and cry. You feel his tears falling on your hair, but you don't think about him. You only think about that terrible truth, about what fate condemns you to, when he holds you tightly to him and carries you to God knows where, stroking your hair and whispering soothing words (for him, for you, it's like reading a death sentence). And his kisses that capture your tears are just a bitter reminder of how often he will be the reason for them. Because you know perfectly well how little time it will take for him to forget about you, too, now that he has literally everything.

[megatraven]

You'll Always Have Me

Pairing: Hydra x MC Summary: Years after she left him to become a goddess, she finds him again- and finds his engagement ring still sitting on his finger. AO3

________

She sees him enter the restaurant, just out of the corner of her eye. He must see her, too, because he freezes in the doorway, looking towards her table.

There’s a pang in her heart; he must think she’s here with someone else. She’s alone at the table for now, but there’s another place setting across from her, where Josh had been eating with her a few moments ago, before one of the chefs pulled him away to the kitchen for help.

He stands there for a long minute, and part of her hopes he comes over. That hope is immediately dashed- instead of greeting her, he turns on his heel and exits the building. She snaps her head up at his quick departure and watches him start to disappear down the street before jumping from her seat.

Last time they'd seen each other, he watched her as she left. She won't let it happen again, not when he's so close. Not when the apology she has for him burns in her throat.

She flags a passing waitress as fast as she can, and asks her to tell Josh that she’ll be right back, gesturing to their empty table, before walking briskly out of the restaurant.

She can still see him down the road, about to turn a corner- and she runs. Past the restaurant, straight into a small party of people blocking the sidewalk. She shouts "Excuse me!" as she pushes through them, not sparing anyone a passing glance; she has eyes for Hydra only. The group makes exclamations that fall on deaf ears, but she’s through- just as Hydra leaves her sight.

“Gods damn it,” she curses- and then takes her heels off as she breaks into a sprint trying to catch up.

Vaguely, she hears somebody shout after her- one of the people she pushed through? Some passersby that hadn't registered on her radar at all? Had she pushed someone over in her rush to get to Hydra?

"Sorry!" she yells over her shoulder- just in case. That's all the focus she can spare on that, still running.

When she hits the corner, she turns the way Hydra had gone- and promptly slams into his chest.

She’s dazed for all of a moment, stumbling back from running into what is, essentially, a very handsome brick wall. That's when he reaches out and grabs onto her arms to stabilize her- and maybe himself, too; she's more of a force to be reckoned with these days, after all. Shaking the daze off, she looks up at him, and her heart beats painfully in her chest.

He’s the same as when she last saw him.

Piercing blue eyes, expression schooled into giving nothing away at all. She remembers how frustrating that used to be, being unable to read him. Now, though, it’s a breath of fresh air. Something familiar to hold onto.

“Hydra…” she says, wincing slightly. Where Hydra is almost exactly the same as before, she knows she's changed a lot. Her voice, for one thing, is different from when they last spoke. There’s an undeniable thread of divinity in it, something she curses in the moment.

At his name, his grip on her tightens slightly, as if making sure she’s real. Or making sure she’s okay. Maybe both at once.

As he does it, she almost misses the feeling of something digging into her skin, too wrapped up in the feel of his touch. But where his hands are cold, the ring on his finger is oddly warm. And when he pulls away, she takes the time to see it.

Something electric goes through her at the sight.

“You…” she looks up at him, eyes wide and yearning. Wanting it to be true. “You’re still wearing your ring?”

“…I never took it off,” he mutters, voice quiet. Pained. If she hadn't turned up to study his face so closely, she might have missed it as he looked down at her hands- and then away from her, quickly.

Seeing his hurt, after so many years, is a stab in the heart, and one that's well-earned. Pulling away when he's in such a state is even worse- but she has to explain, somehow.

“It’s not what you think,” she says, voice breaking. “It… just doesn’t fit anymore.”

She swallows, looking away from him as she thinks back to the first year or so following her awakening into Hera. The constant lessons in godhood, in controlling her power. The heartbreak that never lessened, and in fact only grew worse over time. It had been hard enough most days to get out of bed, and oftentimes, she didn't at all.

Taking care of herself had fallen by the wayside, her grief too strong. That, in addition to Zeus' unbearable badgering and peacocking, the proposals he'd endlessly offered and the rings he'd tried to replace hers with... Well, she'd ended up losing a lot of weight. While it was true that gods didn't need to eat to survive, it was still something they needed to do to keep up their strength and physical health. And all of the pressure on her shoulders killed anything she had left of an appetite.

It was only thanks to Aphrodite and Apollo that she managed to pull herself out of the hole and get back on track. They'd not only noticed her deteriorating state, but they'd cared about it. And, to give credit where credit is due- Hades and Persephone managed to get Zeus to back off, which helped exponentially.

And still, despite their help, Hydra's ring continued to slide off her finger.

Resizing wasn't an option- she didn't want anyone else touching it. Didn't want it gone from her sight, for even a moment.

Looking back at Hydra now, she knows she has to prove as much to him.

So from around her neck, she pulls on a chain that'd been hidden by her dress. Hydra watches as she does it, surprise making a brief appearance on his face before it's gone behind the mask again- but not before his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink she's ever seen. Of course, she flushes in return, clearing her throat as she pulls the old engagement ring out from where it was nestled between her breasts.

Her fingers deftly take the chain off, and she shows him what she means: the ring goes on far too easily, and slides off just as fast.

“I almost lost it the first time it fell off,” she murmurs, looking at the stone held upright by her other fingers. She laughs, though it’s not funny. “I was a wreck. Aphrodite and Persephone had to help me scour the entire estate before my aura brought down the roof.”

The ghost of a smile answers her.

“You’re so sentimental,” he says, like he's not wearing a ring, too.

It surprises a real laugh from her. His mask cracks at that, just a little.

“Me? Sentimental?" She reaches up, brushing the white streak in his hair from his face. Her hand lingers there for a moment before it falls back to her side. "I think you've got the wrong girl."

As quick as her hand had dropped down, his takes it into his own.

"Nah. I know when I've got the right one."

________

They’re holding onto one another by the time they step back into the restaurant, Hydra’s soft smile accentuating her light laughter. Or, to be more accurate- she's holding onto him, both of her arms wrapped around his one.

“What were you coming here for, anyway?” she asks suddenly, looking around as she realizes she doesn't know.

“Meg and Nemean are getting married," he says. She doesn't miss the irony of that coinciding with their own reunion. "We’re here to celebrate.”

"We?"

The moment she asks it, her eyes land on the group of monsters- and all of them have turned to look at her and Hydra. As she flushes under their gazes, it registers in the back of her mind that they’re the ones she’d ran through on her way out- and the voice that called out to her had been Eryn's.

While the party is openly shocked seeing them together, she can see their pleased smiles, too.

“Oh. Wow! Wow, that’s amazing!” She looks back to Hydra, feeling lighter than she has in years. “You’ll give them my congratulations, won’t you?”

His smile wavers.

“Why don’t you tell them yourself?”

“Oh, I… I don’t know.” She rubs anxiously at the back of her neck, stepping away from him. Taking a deep breath, she speaks her worry. “I don’t want to intrude, you know… I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want me around.”

Her, the person who broke Hydra's heart. Who must have looked like a terrible friend and fiancee to their friends when she'd abandoned him for the gods.

But Hydra doesn’t let her get away that easy, closing the space she’d just put between them. He reaches for her hands, clasping them both in his. Urging her to listen.

“Look at them,” he says, eyes flicking back over to their group. She follows his gaze, surprised to see the warmth in everyone’s faces- even Ladon’s. “They’re your friends, too.”

Hydra’s expression turns pleading, something she isn’t used to seeing from him. It makes her ache in a different way, and she wants nothing more than to give in to him.

And- he's right. They are her friends, despite everything. She'd worked alongside Hydra to rescue all their auras, and they'd come out on top. She remembers being the only one with a working aura- how Hydra had reclaimed it just before losing his own. To save her.

“Sit down with us. Josh won’t mind if we pull up another chair.”

“He won’t mind,” she agrees. “But I was in the middle of having dinner with him...”

Hydra's expression turns deadpan.

“Invite him.”

Something about the way he sends it startles a laugh from her, and she can't help but fall back into teasing him. It's too natural to not.

“Wow, Hydra. Inviting not one, but two people to crash your friends’ engagement dinner? I always knew you were a troublemaker."

He smirks- but she can see the light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Our friends," he corrects. "They'll be glad to have you join us."

“Mm, maybe so.” Another glance shows Eryn giving them a thumbs up; Meg and Nemean are smiling brightly their way, and Meg gives her a little wave when she catches her looking. “But I should still talk to Josh first." She squeezes his hands. "Wait for me?”

Hydra nods and squeezes hers in return, and then lets her go to find Josh.

Behind her, she hears him say something that sets her heart aflame.

"I'd wait for you all my life”

________

Not ten minutes later, her and Josh are settled into the table, with celebratory bottles of wine being popped open- on the house, courtesy of Josh. The atmosphere is warm and familiar, the comradery between the group as strong as it ever was. The chatter is lively as everyone catches up with one another, and it’s nice getting to learn what her friends have been up to in the past decade.

It's nice to be accepted back into the fold so seamlessly.

And to top off such a wonderful evening, under the table, Hydra’s hand rests in hers, his ring a constant warm reminder that things aren’t over for them just yet.

As for her own ring, it sits proudly displayed as a necklace, draped carefully over her heart.

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Ask Real Nice Pt3

It's actually kind of nice writing something in such short installments. It's all I have time for with all the other stories anyway, but these little bursts are just stress-free fun. So yeah, enjoy this third part of Ask Real Nice, AKA the Ask Drabble That Could.

Starts Here.

Maria made it very clear, in no uncertain terms, that Joel was in charge of the rescue party.  She looked at the other three arrayed before her outside the gates of Jackson.  Zahra, with her backpack teeming with medical supplies;  Patrick, a Glock tucked in the front of his bulletproof vest and sniper rifle across his shoulder;  Sasha, nervous but determined and finally Tosh, the only one amongst them wearing a helmet.  It was a good group, fighters all.  But none of them had a slice of the experience that she understood Joel to possess.

It was maybe a five hour ride to Hoback.  Joel told them they would stay the highway for the fastest progress until they closed in on the town, then skirt the mountains for the track that was promised to lead them to Tommy.  Maria rode point with him. 

The journey was the longest Maria had spent almost exclusively in Joel’s company.  Someone else was always around, Tommy, maybe Tess.  Determined to keep her mind off her worst fears of what they might find in Hoback, Maria refocused her attention on Joel and tried to keep it there without getting caught.  He was centred on the way ahead.

When Joel had first shown up in Jackson, Maria had not been able to spot any resemblance between him and his brother.  Joel had seemed so much older, for a start.  Tommy had come to Jackson as careworn and lean as a stray dog – but alive, taut like a bow-string.  Joel had come under a cloak of pain and secrecy and suspicion.  Maria had feared for the girl in his charge.  She had a pack of Tommy’s stories of the full, brutal extent of Joel’s capabilities. 

But they rode the same:  hand on thigh, reins held low against their leg, the same tilt of the head.  In fact, Maria had glimpsed Joel through the trees once or twice and her heart had leapt.  He could almost – almost have been her husband.  It was a strange composition in her mind because physically their bearing was not so alike but somehow, they reflected a similar presence.

“Joel.”

He kept riding.

“Joel!”

Annoyed, Maria pulled her horse diagonally across the highway to the shoulder upon which Joel rode. 

“Joel!”

He looked over with a little start.  And then it clicked – she was riding on his deaf side.  She rubbed the reins between her fingers.   Tess was usually positioned on this side, ready to intercept. 

“What?”

“Are we going to talk about a plan?”

Joel leaned her way, headed tilted to listen.  “Maybe you should ride round the other side.”

“Or maybe this is exactly where I need to be.  Your hearing’s really bad, isn’t it?  What happened?”

“Don’t know.  Could’ve been anything.  My money’s on the grenade.”  Beat.  “Guessin’ you know about that.”

“Indianapolis?” 

“That would be it, ma’am.”

“A plan, Joel.  What’s the plan?”

“We’ll leave the highway soon.  I reckon we’re not far, now.  Then we’ll send a scout in – maybe Tosh, she’s fast and quiet – make sure those assholes were telling the truth.  No sense making a plan until we know that.”

Maria shot him a look.  “You don’t know if they were telling the truth?”

“Information seemed solid.  But you never can tell.  You get better at tellin’ with time,” he admitted, keeping his gaze directly ahead, “if you can put any stock in it or not.  Tess seemed to think it was pretty good.  And Tess is usually right.”

“And if it’s what they said?  What’s the plan then?”

“What?”

“What’s the plan if it’s what they said?”

“How many people you killed, Maria?”

Maria clicked her tongue.  “Excuse me, now?”

“How many people?  Anyone?”

“I killed people,” she answered.  Her temper, marinating with her fear, was quick to spark.  “I’ve done what I had to do, same as everyone else.”

“Killed unarmed people?”

“I know where you’re going with this.”

“What?”

“I know where you’re going with this!”

“Keep your fuckin’ voice down.”

Maria squeezed her reins and curled up her toes.  She wanted to tell him to clean his fucking ears out.  She breathed out, long and slow, imagining all her frustration going with it.

“I can do what I need to.  I want Tommy back, and that’s all that matters.”

Joel gave her a long, appraising look.  He was so much like his brother in that moment that Maria felt the final vestiges of her anger melt away.

“Don’t ice me out here, Joel.  That’s my husband.”

“Well, all right,” Joel shrugged.  Maybe he rolled his eyes – maybe she imagined it.  He was such an asshole.  “Off the road here.  We’ll cut through here to the track.”

Part Four

[moonlightstar27]

The Cowboy Virus

Sombra x Cassidy

Contains: Smut, Death, Intoxication sex, cursing, rough sex, fluff near the end.

"Sombra where are you?! The target is getting away stupid girl!" Oh I don't think so, widow was always so mean to me during missions but it didn't matter we still get paid the same. "Already on the target widow, tell reaper to meet me on the east side of the building!" I was running so fast not even the cameras could catch me.

But then that's when it hit me. "OH FUCK!" A flashbang, but from where could have it come from- oh you have to be kidding me. It was none other then Cole Cassidy. That asshole, how dare he get in my way! That's when I threw my translocater and sprang back up just in time for reaper too show up.

"Sombra go get the target I'll take care of the cowboy." Nodding as I went along I found Alexander Turner, he had been an ex Talon scientist who was planning to sell out Talons sleeper agents. "It's over amigo, you know how this goes. You should've never turned on us." The door then busted open. "Oh no you don't, you're gon' leave him alone Pumpkin. I don't want Morrison on my ass."

I grabbed Alexander by his hair and twisted around and pointed my SMG to his head. "Mmmm, I don't think so and besides, I had two blood thirsty teammates who would kill me if i don't get this job done so....." Cassidy started chuckling then pointed his pistol at me. "I'm the fastest gun in the new west, what Makes you think you can beat me?" how foolish can this man be?

"See what happens when you try to play hero cowboy? People still die because you failed." Cole then fired off six shoots which only 2 of them managed to hit him. "Reaper, Sombra we must go now. They are ready for us." Reaper was the first one to leave. Making sure to take care of anyone else he saw on his way back.

"Oh cowboy don't look so down, you see me one day or another." I then booped his nose and left him there.

After that mission, I kept seeing him more and more. He was always there like he was tracking me down just so that he would be the one to take me out. But I always manage to slip away from him and laugh at him. But sometimes he dose cause me problems. I swear the last thing he did Moria nearly mademe her next test subject.

I spent most of the days trying to just rid of him, he's becoming a real pain to my fun. I don't like when people ruin my fun. "Aye dios mio, that man is gonna get my pay docked. I need a drink." I immediately went to my favorite bar in town where they make the best tequila shots ever.

I was on my fourth shot when the bartender yelled out "Cole Cassidy welcome back friend!" Cole.... Cassidy.... Well, this could be fun. Of course he took a sit right next to me, we locked eyes for a moment but only a moment. How does someone so annoy look at me with such eyes.

"Bartender the usually please." I continued to drink my shot and slammed it down on the table. "So, how many times did Morrison get on your ass for not catching me?" letting out a small chuckle I tilted my head into my hand which made a fist and looked at him.

"For the amount of shit you put me through, I reckon that you would make a nice cash reward." Nice huh? I thought my worth would've been more. I feel hurt. Cassidy then took a sip of his whiskey. He looked so somber. "Well, how bout I buy you a drink, one different from this?" for the first time tonight his brown eyes looked at me differently.

Loud laughter came from the both of us as the night came closer to the end. "Oh and then I shut the door on his face. Oh reaper was so mad!" Cassidy and I were at the point of tears, this night was one of the best I had since I joined Talon. "Okay guys you. I have to close up, don't worry about the tab Sombra. I'm too scared you might just empty my account if I even ask."

I just had to Boop his nose before cassidy pull me away. "To think a troublemaker like you would turn me on like this." Before I could say anything Cassidy turn my head and kissed me. It tasted fiery, guess it's from the whiskey, I could help but wrap my arms around his neck. It was like fire meeting Electricity.

Pulling away from the kiss he went straight to sucking and licking my neck, it felt so warm. "Mm wait, is this a trick to try and turn me. If so at least mm~ buy me dinner first cowboy." removing his self with a loud pop noise he looked up at me. "Now, if I wanted to that pumpkin. You would've beenbout the moment I step in. But no I want you doll. If you mind following me?" Wow this night just got interesting even more.

I found myself at the overwatch base, it turned me on that he was sneaking me in to a high level place like this. When got too his room. He immediately threw me to the bed. "I am going to show you things even you didn't know pumpkin."

Our lips intertwine once again that night, it felt so good. Cassidy then started kissing down my neck, stopping near my chest. Cassidy started fondling my chest. I started letting out soft moans. It didn't go unnoticed luckily.

"All those times you saw me, I wanted to be the one. I wouldn't let it be anyone else but me." That's when he started sucking on my titties, like he was hungry. It made me arch my back an make the loudest moan ever.

"Let me hear those beautiful moans pumpkin, let me be the one that makes you feel this good~" After he said that he switched tit and started rubbing my clit through my soaked panties. It felt like I was on fire at the moment.

The assault on my body didn't let up my legs started closing around his hands. "Oh come on, don't tell me you don't like this." He then moved down and pulled my legs open and started eating me out. He took his sweet time licking my clit. Giving it soft licks before he started eating it out like a hungry man.

My hands went straight to his hair pulling him closer to me, to feel it deeper within me. He wrapped his arms around my legs and lift me up. "Aw f-fuck. What are you that hungry. You about to... Shit- about to make me c-cum." He started sucking faster after I said that.

I was so lost in the feeling I nearly blacked out from the pleasure. After I few more sucks, I came all over his face, he had drunk every last drop. His beard was soaked in my juices. "You taste delicious doll~"

He then pulled me towards him and kissed me once more. His dick was pressed up against me, I started grinding on him and he started grunting and bucking his hips up towards me. "Woah there cowboy, at least let me take your pants off before you even cum."

He chuckled and let me down. I had unbuckled his pants and took his cock out. I gave it a few good rubs before popping it Into my mouth. "Yeah that's it, get it nice and wet for me. It's- fucking damn. It's so warm inside your mouth doll."

He grabbed the back if my head and thrusted into it roughly, then held it there for a moment. I felt like chocking cause of how deep it was in my mouth. He removed me from him and lifted me back on to the bed. He pumped himself before rubbing his tip against my pussy.

"You're such a fucking tease Sombra, but god do I love it so much." He pushed my legs up and plugged himself in me. His movements were slow, slowly pushing in and out, in and out, in and.... Out. He managed to drag out every moan from me. He grabbed the head board to giving him support.

I wanted him to go faster, I wanted him to pound me. "Hey, Cassidy. Oh~ G-go faster." He chuckled at my request. "Beg for it. Beg for me to go faster." He stopped waiting for me to beg. I rolled my ears and looked at him. "Please Cassidy, please pound in to me." That's all he needed before grabbing my sides and rammed into me.

He was fast and brutal with his onslaught oh my pussy. It was so intense I had wrapped my legs around him and clawed at his back. He then pull out all the way to his tip and slammed back down in me. His way of fucking me made me scream his name out loud.

At this point I was in tears, I felt close to cumming and it started to get really hot. "C-cassidy! I'm gonna cum!" He rammed deeper into me, I could feel he was close to. Cassidy then grabbed my face and kissed me, his paced quicken fast until he stopped.

He had still as he emptied his cum into my warm pussy. Cassidy then rolled over on the other side of the bed and pulled out. His cum poured out of me, I was tried and out of breath. Cassidy wrapped his arms and pulled his cover over us. "You're one bad cowboy." "You're one helluva good kisser." We bussed out laughing, till we cuddled and when I was just about to sleep.

"I love you Sombra."

[dokoni-mo]

The Throne || Darth Vader x GN! Reader

summary: he can sense your burning desire.

NSFW // smut

word count: 3713

warnings: thigh-riding, dom/sub undertones, established relationship, secret relationship, praise, cursing, unfair power dynamics, inappropriate usage of the force, mentions of canon-typical violence, fear, very brief and slight degrading, aftercare, soft vader, minor spoilers for Kenobi episode 3

a/n: listen i can't be the only one that thought of this during this scene. also please bear with me if this isn't that good,, i don't write smut very often

~~~

Mustafar. Volcanic planet located on the Outer Rim with rivers of lava cascading all over its rich, black surface. With temperatures so hot enough to burn the inside of your lungs, it's virtually impossible for any living lifeform to thrive upon it. Its one of the last places anyone would want to go.

Yet, for some odd reason, you found yourself there frequently.

It wasn't what you were expecting when you joined the Empire. It wasn't in the slightest. Upon recruit not too long after the Republic fell, you were just expecting to be a solider. Another cog in the wheel. You had signed up just hoping to get any sort of security in a galaxy of seemingly never-ending hostility. You didn't even agree with the Empire. You were just scared of what would happen if you didn't join them.

Perhaps that is what drew him to you. The smell of your fear.

You had always thought you were good at hiding it. You learned how to make sure it didn't show on your face; in your posture. But god damnit it was hard in the Empire. It was even harder around him. Granted, you didn't expect to be assigned maintaining his squadron of troopers so quickly, so you had very little time to prepare yourself. You often found yourself wondering: if you did have time to prepare back then, would it have gone any different? Would you have gotten reassigned by now? Would you have caught his eye like you did? Would the two of you had grown so close as you did?

But, more importantly, would you be in the position that you're in right now?

Growing close to him, you soon found yourself following him everywhere he went. He would make it a point to bring you every single place he went to. And, made it even more of a point to have you close at all times. Even during important meetings where you weren't allowed to be present, he would order you to wait by the door for him to return. Or wait for him to send someone to come and fetch you. It was only then were you allowed to go anywhere else.

This was another one of those times.

You had been waiting outside that room for what seemed like hours. With the hunt for that Obi-Wan guy going on, you were sure that he had a meeting about something related to that with one if not all of the inquisitors. You had heard a lot about them through him; just how useless and weak they were. Of course, you knew despite all of his complaints about them, they were still a force to be reckoned with. They were orders of magnitude more powerful than you. But, of course, compared to him, they were nothing. And you knew that was ultimately what made them get on his nerves.

But, all the same, he still had to deal with them. And whether it was because he wanted to spare you the headache, or simply because he just couldn't let you in on that information, he had you wait outside for him to finish.

You had figured it was going to at most be a few minutes. That, however, turned out to not exactly be the case. The ache in your legs told you that it had at least been a decent while, coupled with the fact that you were growing tired of the view. Mustafar was beautiful, in a very odd, foreboding way. But even with a view like that, you grew tired of waiting. Especially because you weren't allowed to do anything but wait.

Sometimes, it was a painful trade-off; the relationship you had with Lord Vader. But would you trade it for anything?

No. Never in a million years. Call yourself crazy, but you had grown fond of the sith lord after all this time. And, at least to you, he had grown fond of you as well. There weren't many people you were fond of anymore. That being the case, you made it a point to cling onto him like grim death. And if that meant tolerating his busy schedule, along with saving face and doing as he commanded when the two of you were in public (in order to not arouse any suspicion from the rest of the Empirical army), you would happily oblige.

Eventually, after letting what felt like the thousandth sigh that day escape through your lungs, you heard the faint sounds of boots clacking against the shiny, polished ground come around the corner, making your ears perk up at the noise. Turning to look over your shoulder, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment when you discovered that the footsteps didn't belong to Lord Vader. Instead, they belonged to one of the stormtroopers that had been stationed outside the door, his blaster held tightly to his chest as he addressed you.

"Commander (L/N)?" the trooper said, getting your attention, "He's ready for you now."

You hoped your eyes didn't reveal the excitement that bubbled up from deep inside you. Giving the trooper a quick nod and a soft thank you, you made it a point to watch the solider leave before you made any moves. He liked to know that when he got you to himself, there was no one around that could potentially ruin the experience. It used to make you scared; knowing that if he flipped his switch one day and killed you, there'd be no one around to hear you scream. But, over time, you found yourself agreeing with him on that.

You liked being alone with the Dark Lord.

Perhaps you have gone crazy.

Your boots clacking against the floor, you rounded the corner to the entrance to the room, stopping briefly in front of the closed doors to punch in your clearance-code. A green light flashed at you when the last of your numbers was punched in, and the large, metal doors parted to open up for you. Immediately, you were greeted with a flash of red light from within, emanating off the windows to the outside world. Stepping into the room, you were greeted as well with the sight of the man of the hour. Lord Vader was perched in the middle of the sleek, dark room, sitting in the equally-as sleek and dark throne in the middle of it all. If it weren't for the few lights within the room itself, coupled with the deep crimson coming from outside, you wouldn't have even noticed that he was there. As soon as he saw you come in, you felt his gaze from behind the mask fall upon your smaller frame, the sound of his rhythmic, mechanical breath filling your ears.

"Commander (L/N)." he rumbled out, not moving an inch from his seated position as he continued to stare ahead at you. This earned a soft smile from you as you reached down beside the doorframe, pressing a few buttons on the control pad to close the doors behind you and lock them there from the inside.

"There's no need for the formalities, Vader." You responded as you pressed the last few buttons on the controls, "I made sure everyone was gone when I came in. It's just us now."

From the corner of your eye, you could see him relax a little more in his seat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Leaning against the doorframe, you were able to get a much better look at him now. Even sitting down, he still had his iconic intimidation factor. And, he still looked huge. He was a very large man to begin with; over six-and-a-half feet tall, all that bulk and armor. Maybe sitting down only amplified just how big his muscles were, because god damn. He really could make anyone feel small. Without even trying.

Interesting.

"How'd it go?" you asked him, lifting up your legs and bending them at the knee one by one to stretch them out.

You watched as he settled his back against the expanse of his throne, his hands loosely balling up into hard, leathery fists.

"I find myself growing more impatient with their incompetence by the hour." He rumbled out, his tone making it clear that he was quite frustrated after that meeting. This made you breathe out a sympathetic yet amused smile with a shrug.

"That's understandable, though." You replied, "I mean, they aren't you, Vader. I'm telling you: You should just go out there yourself, find him yourself. It'll save a lot of people a lot of hassle. And you'd find him a lot quicker."

He let out a low rumbles at your words; a sound he made when he knew that you were right.

"I am afraid I am assigned those fools by order of my master." He said. The mention of that man made you roll your eyes. Yeah, he was your boss, but from what you knew from Vader, he liked to make things unnecessarily complex just for grandiosity. Hell, you weren't even his apprentice, and you were annoyed with him You couldn't imagine how Vader felt about it. But, it was clear to you then that at the very least, he was beyond frustrated about the whole matter. He would never outwardly say it, but you just knew he was.

He didn't have to say it for you to know.

Picking yourself off of the doorframe, you clacked your boots over to where the Sith was sitting, kneeling down in front of him from in-between his long, muscular legs to be more at eye-level.

"Hey," you said softly, smiling up at him from your crouched position as you laid your soft hand on top of his own sat overtop his armored knee, "I'm sure that they'll pull their act together soon, alright? I mean, they have the most intimidating boss in the Galaxy. Surely that's enough motivation for them to get the job done. If not, well, just remind him who their boss is."

Vader stared down at you without a word, his mask pointed right at your face as he gazed down at you. You noticed how his breath in his respirator hitched briefly shortly before he spoke again.

"You have quite the outlook on such matters as these, (Y/N)." He rumbled out. Lifting up the hand that wasn't underneath your own, he reached down and gently cupped your face in his mechanical palm, earning another soft smile out of you from beneath him.

"I'm just telling you how it is. And I just know what you like to hear." you retorted back, leaning your head into his palm as you felt his thumb gently rub back and forth upon your flesh. Shifting your weight onto your knee, you released the hand you had on the one in his lap, replacing it with one on top of the one he had on your face, giving it a gentle squeeze. You relished in the brief moment of silence that fell overtop the pair of you before you spoke again, softer this time.

"I missed you today." You nearly whispered out, just loud enough for him to hear through his helmet. It was very much the truth; you had missed him. Even though you weren't gone for that long.

You watched as his head tilted to the side.

"Is that so?" he questioned. If you weren't paying attention, you would have missed the slight hint of amusement in the back of his voice; in the way the hand on your cheek tightened ever so softly. You nodded in response, feeling your face heat up at his words.

He let out another rumble, sitting back in his chair ever so slightly. He slipped his gloved hand from off your cheek, trailing his long, thick, robotic fingers down the length of your jaw. They found their new home resting upon your chin, the bone being held firmly yet gently between his thumb and pointer finger as he tilted it upwards towards his mask. Getting a good look at your flushed face, his thumb began to travel across your smooth, plump skin, gliding itself over your bottom lip and gently tracing the bottom of it as well.

"Perhaps I have been too neglectful of your needs as of late, commander." He said to you, his voice just a touch deeper than the normal dark, deep bass that it is.

Retracting the hand off your face, Lord Vader fully leaned back in his chair, fixing his posture to sit as straight as possible. The sith pushed his hips out from his seated position, making his legs extend out from his chair just a tad bit more. He snaked his hand down onto his large, thick thigh, patting the material that covered the muscle a few times as an invitation.

"Come."

Obeying his demands, you stood up from your kneeling position, stepping in such a way that each of your legs were on either side of his large thigh. You sat yourself on the midway point between his knee and hip bone, finding the seat rather comfortable despite being so menacing. Unable to quite get your balance at first, you rested your smaller hands on his chest, on either side of the panel of buttons that adorned his solar-plexus. The sith made note of how you seemed to be unable to find your proper balance and decided to help. Reaching out to you, you felt him place one large, strong, gloved hand on either one of your hips, giving them a squeeze of approval as he rubbed his thumbs into the bone underneath your clothing.

The Dark Lord seemed to simply admire you for a moment, perched on his thigh before him. He could feel the way your hands trembled lightly as they laid upon his chest; see the way your eyes were already glazed over in want. He was a busy man. he didn't get to be this close to you as often as he wanted to be.

That's why, when he did get the chance, he was keen on making it memorable.

Your lips parted as you felt his hands begin to travel up and down the expanse of your waist, the way his fingers ghosted over your back making you shudder in the cold, dark room. Your smaller body was warm under his touch, him able to feel it even through all the different layers of clothing and armor that adorned the two of you. Even though you couldn't see exactly where he was looking, you could feel his eyes on you as you felt his hands travel slowly down your back, stopping only briefly to give your hips and butt a tight squeeze.

"You seem unsettled, little one." he spoke to you, making note of the way your hands laid against him, alongside the bend of your brow as your face heated up some more.

"I-It's just been a little while, my lord." you responded back, feeling how his hands traveled back upwards to rest on your hips once again. He let out a rumble of approval at your verbiage; at the way you addressed him. You knew he liked to be called that during times like these. And he knew that you knew. This only added to his satisfaction. But still, the the tone of your voice, he could tell something was wrong. You were nervous. You were right in saying that it had been a while. He's a very busy man.

But then again, there's no need to fret, small one. Lord Vader would never do anything to hurt you.

Not unless you asked him to.

Lord Vader reached up one of his hands and brushed the side of your cheek with the back of his knuckles, "There is no reason to worry, my sweet. I have promised you long ago that I would always take care of you."

The Dark Lord placed his back on your hip.

"Now, allow me to prove it to you, little one. Follow my lead, and don't stop until I say. Otherwise there will be consequences."

Before you could blabber out a response to him, you felt his grip on your hips grow tight, enough to where you knew there would be bruises there in the morning. Without warning, the sith begun to grind your hips down onto his thick, muscular thigh, rocking you back and forth in small motions as your clothed crotch ground against his leg. The sudden motion made you gasp, your hands palming at his chest and shoulder armor as a desperate attempt to keep you balanced. After the initial shock of the sudden pleasure between your legs, you began to rock your hips along with his assistance. A plethora of soft, quiet moans and whimpers escaped your lips, your face heating up even further as you heard your sounds ricochet off of the walls of his throne room.

"There you are, my sweet, there... Keep going, pet. Give yourself to me." Lord Vader commanded you, giving you one quick bounce of his leg and watching you gasp again, but this time a loud, breathy moan following it. Embarrassed by making such a lewd noise, you bit your bottom lip as you tried to suppress your whines, curling your waist as you tried to grid against him further.

Seemingly displeased with you trying to hold back your voice, you watched through blurry, need-filled eyes as the dark lord snaked one of his hands up your body. It only stopped once it reached your chest, the sheer size of it nearly engulfing the entire expanse of your ribcage. Without much of a warning, you couldn't hold back your needy cries as he started to knead and grope at your chest.

"You said you know what I like to hear, correct?" he asked you, only it was phrased as if it were a demand, "Then act like it."

A pang of fear at his displeasure shot through your body. You has yet to see what a punishment from him looked like, and you found yourself not very keen that afternoon to see exactly what it would be. Following his demands, you nodded your head in response and kept your moans vocal without any shame. At the loss of one of his hands, you were finding it hard to balance on his thigh again, making your movements more sloppy than what he would have liked. As a solution, you felt the air around you grow tense as he reached out with his power, using the aid of the force to keep you in place.

Your face looked helpless as you continued to gasp and moan at every stroke along his leg, your cries just has helpless as you.

"F-Fuck- ahh fuck, my lord..! Please, don't stop! So good..!" you blubbered out in between your moans, your hips desperately trying to keep up with his pace.

"Look at you, darling. What a mess you are. You are doing so well for me, little one. Good... keep going. Obey me and I shall reward you." He rumbled in response, his hand on your chest gripping and massaging in all the right places.

After a good while of following his movements, you could feel the old, familiar coil winding inside your stomach. It made your movements more erratic, even to the point to where you were moving your waist much faster than he was guiding you. Feeling your increase in pace, Vader knew that could only mean one thing. To help you along, he began to bounce his knee at random intervals, finding it quite amusing the way you would gasp each time. Your fingers on his chest gripped onto him with nearly all your strength. Your moans had grown louder by the second, only this time you didn't care how embarrassing it was.

It was only him, you were giving them to, anyway.

"I sense that you are close." He said to you, almost so nonchalantly that it made you wanna scream. You tried to respond to him as best you could, but the only thing you could blather out through your thick, lusty haze that crept across your being.

"It is alright, my star. Let go for me. Show me just how I and I alone make you feel."

With that, you let yourself go for him, relishing in the orgasm that ripped itself through your body and forced a plethora of moans escape your lips. Your orgasm made your body go weak, the pure, raw bliss coursing through your veins rendering you unable to move a muscle. To help you ride your high, Lord Vader pushed your hips into his thighs a few more times, his mechanical breath far more ragged than before. He watched as you rose and then came back down from your state of euphoria, watching you without a word as your chest rose and fell beneath his touch as you panted. As he released you from his hold on you through the force, he gently reached out and guided you down to lay against his chest, sensing that you would be far too weak to sit there on your own.

Your body was hot against his, and your small hands grabbed at any part of him that he could reach. With your body in toe, he leaned against the back of his throne, one hand stroking through your sweat, dampened forehead whilst the other held onto you, his arm snaked around your torso. He could tell that you were quite tired now as he rumbled out a few short, small praises to you, not expecting any sort of response in return. Which, for the moment he was fine with. You had done so well for him. It would just be cruel to have you keep going in a state such as this. After having you, he felt much more charitable than he normally did at any given moment.

And whilst sitting upon his throne? In his castle, on his planet on his edge of the galaxy? With his little darling so cutely in his arms?

How could he not be in such a better mood?

~~~

[blu-joons]

Broken Heels ~ Kim Namjoon

The distance continued to grow between the two of you as you walked home from the event that you had attended that evening. With every step that you took, Namjoon could tell that you were struggling more and more with the heels that had tormented you all night long.

“I’m fine,” you tried to assure him as he looked questionably across at you. You were stubborn and convinced that you could get home in your shoes without letting the pain that you were feeling get in the way of you walking.

However, Namjoon could see right through you, as he had done all evening. Every time he turned to look at you, he watched you stumble to the side or reach out for something to balance you preventing yourself from toppling to the ground in a heap.

“We don’t have to walk home if you’re hurting,” he tried to remind you, stopping so that you could catch up with him, “those heels are killing you on the inside.”

“The heels are perfectly fine otherwise I wouldn’t have worn them this evening,” you protested.

You picked up your pace to try and catch up with Namjoon, however as you did, you felt yourself shake to the left once again. Namjoon stepped forward and grabbed onto you, watching as you tried to steady your feet, only for your ankle to roll to the side again.

Straight away you knew that you were in trouble as you looked down to see the heel had fallen off the sole of your shoe, a crack that had threatened to break all night long.

“This is all I needed to finish my night off,” you vented, glancing helplessly across at Namjoon as at last the inevitable seemed to happen for you, having been threatening for some time.

His head shook as he knelt down, unfastening the strap of both of your heels, “we might as well bin these, they’re no good to you now to get you home.”

“How else am I supposed to get home then?”

“We’ll find a way,” he assured you, “I don’t even know why you wore these things tonight anyway.”

“There’s a standard,” you spoke, bringing Namjoon’s eyes up to look at you as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There’s always an expectation on me to dress a certain way when I’m with you, I’ve got to look the part, haven’t I?”

Namjoon’s head shook as he carefully slipped your feet out of your heels, placing them gently down onto the cold concrete of the pavement being wary not to cause too much pain for you.

His heart sunk as he realised what you meant, struggling to believe that you felt such a way. Namjoon knew that you felt the pressure dating him, but he never imagined that you would put yourself through so much just to play the part that you felt you needed to fulfil.

“I can’t believe you’d wear heels for the sake of other people,” he whispered, “you should wear what you’re comfortable in, that’s all that I ever want for you Y/N.”

“I don’t need people talking about me,” you admitted as Namjoon stood back up properly by your side, “it’s better to just do the right thing, even if it does kill my feet all night long.”

His head shook as he stepped forwards, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “people don’t talk about you, anyone who wants to talk about you won’t get very far when I’m around.”

Your head nodded as Namjoon searched for your eyes, using the reflection of the streetlights to study your expression closely. “I don’t want to make myself vulnerable Namjoon, I don’t want to give them a reason to get to me.”

“No one will, I’ll make you feel safe, always, and keep you safe too.”

The pain in your voice killed Namjoon on the inside, he had no idea how long you’d felt such a way without telling him. He couldn’t begin to imagine how scared you were for every single event that you went to with him, terrified that you wouldn’t fit the bill.

“I don’t want you to suffer, I want you to feel protected by my side. You should have told me what was going on, you shouldn’t have struggled all night long by yourself Y/N.”

“It’s not just been tonight Namjoon.”

“I know,” he sympathised, “and I hate that it’s been going on for so long. You’ve been falling all over the place and all because you’re scared. What did you think would happen if you opened up to me, did you think I’d make you wear your heels?”

Your head shook back at him, “I just didn’t want you to feel let down, every woman at that event wore heels, it’s like I would have been the odd one out.”

“You would have been comfortable, and that’s the main thing,” he smiled.

Namjoon kept you in position before standing himself in front of you, bending down. You watched on in confusion as he tapped against his back, encouraging you to leap on so that he could carry you safely the rest of the way home.

A laugh came from you as soon as you realised what was going on, “are you really sure you can carry me on your back Namjoon.”

“Of course,” he assured, catching your legs as soon as you jumped on, shaking you gently so that you were positioned comfortably against his back. “It’s the least I can do for you.”

“You don’t need to do anything for me, I really am alright, my ankles already feel better.”

Namjoon knew you meant well, but his head shook, “you’ve suffered in silence because of me, I failed to see what was going on, and I failed to take care of you too.”

Whenever it came to you, Namjoon always blamed himself, even if it wasn’t always his fault entirely. There was no way that he could blame you for wearing your heels and hurting all night long, he just wished now that he could ease the pressure that was in the back of your mind.

“I love you,” he suddenly whispered as he began walking along the path, “and from now on, I want you to promise me that comfort will always be the thing you worry about the most when putting together an outfit.”

“I promise,” you grinned, stretching around his shoulder so that you could press a kiss against his cheek, “and I love you too by the way.”

A gentle blush crept onto Namjoon’s face as he bounced along the pavement with a spring in his step. It had been a long time since the two of you had messed around, carrying yourselves as if you were kids once again.

“Do you reckon you’ll still love me once you’ve carried me all the way home?” You teased, “your back will be in pieces tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” Namjoon confidently replied, “and if I’m not, I can join you in the land of injuries, your ankles are going to take a few days to get better after tonight.”

Reluctantly, your head nodded in agreement with him, “I don’t regret wearing the heels, it felt like the right thing to do, at the time at least.”

“I just hope you’ve realised that you don’t need heels for me,” Namjoon smiled, “especially broken ones.”

“Definitely, it’s flats all the way for me from now on.”

---

Masterlist

[gryffindors-weasley]

Starlit Confession

Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: On a camping trip tradition, your friends have got other plans neither you or Sirius are aware of.

Requested by @expelliarmusmyass : “can i request a classic enemies to lovers "there's only one bed" sirius x reader where all the marauders (+lily!) have a sleepover or camping trip of some sorts and lily and remus finally decide they need to get reader and sirius already and plan to get them to sleep in the same room/bed/tent ? thanks !!”

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: little bit of jealousy, mutual pining, fluff, kissing

A/N: Thank you for my first Sirius request!! I absolutely loved everything about it, I hope you enjoy!

July 1979

The breeze swept coolly across your face against the warm summer sun as you stuck your hand outside the window, the air gliding over the back of it. You were headed to the stretch of woods that you’ve all come to know so well, something that was highly anticipated the moment the summer season had begun. Camping. It was something you and your friends had made into tradition without much discussion against it for the last three years. Lily had saved up for the very Volkswagen bus you’d been sitting in, knowing for a fact she’d get more use out of it than a simple small car; she knew her four closest friends were in it for the long haul and that was something that would always remain true.

It was mostly a golden yellow color, near orange, its roof white with a matching tire cover on the front of it between two round headlights. It was adorable, it was perfect, and most importantly it was big enough to fit a boisterous group of friends that surely needed the space. It’d already housed jovial memories that would be cherished for years to come.

You’d each packed up a bag or two, tossed them in the back and set off to the ever familiar place the five of you had found to be the perfect spot. A clearing amongst the woods, a place not far from the waters edge. It looked near enchanting when sunbeams filter through old yet thriving trees, as much as it could be for being a place without the very magic you’ve known all your life. It was perhaps your favorite tradition out of all others that had been created, one that you never failed to look forward to. No matter what’s been going on with any of you, traditions were never missed or forgotten. That was one thing that was constant and one thing would never change.

Another thing that had been just the same was the constant need for Sirius Black to get under your skin. You’d known him ever since you both were fourteen years old, and every day since then had been a battle of who’d been more witty and your three best friends had yet to determine who had been the rightful owner of that title. You were always bickering about something or another, always tossing narrowed stares and scrunched noses, grumbling under breaths and eye rolls. Even despite that, James, Remus and Lily especially had been convinced that there were feelings amongst it all. It hadn’t been too terribly hard for them to jump to that conclusion. They had their suspicions with each and every look Sirius had found himself giving you when your attention was fixed elsewhere. At the very same look you’d cast upon him when he wasn’t looking. They were absent minded actions to you both, and that was all the more reason for them to think there was something there.

It drove the tight knit group absolutely mad to see their two dearest friends love each other without even knowing of that very fact—James found himself far too close on multiple occasions to flat out complaining of the sheer obliviousness between you two. To simply tell them how blind the two of you must be. But each and every time he’d nearly done so it was promptly stopped by a stern Lily Evans who was not to be defied. They felt another day of this was simply not an option, too painful to watch a second more.

Even now, as you sat in the back with the raven haired wizard, the seating arrangement proved to make for an interesting trip. There was a flurry of jests and quips to match them; it was inevitable when he’d taken the seat right next to you, Remus on his other side. It’d been something entirely intentional on Lupin’s part, though the bickering was something to be expected.

First it had been over who was taking up too much of whose space, something accompanied by a lighthearted series of shoves and stifled laughter when you looked away in hopes the other wouldn’t see it. Then it had been when he’d changed the radio from your favorite song to his with a simple twitch of his fingers, a back and forth battle of rock and ABBA that nearly broke the radio, one that nearly drove your friends insane.

But now, Sirius had found himself staring as he so often does, at the way you waved your hand with the breeze, the way said breeze sifted through your hair and the way you sang along with James to the very same ABBA song that’d been on repeat for the past fifteen minutes. He’d reckon your voice far better than that of the brunette behind the wheel. He doesn’t know just why he always finds himself settling his attention upon you every moment he gets the chance. Or maybe he does and just refuses to admit the reasons for it. But there was something about you, there was always something about you to be admired. You were utterly enamoring even when you’ve got your brows scrunched over something entirely because of him. They never seem to stay furrowed for long.

“If you take a picture, it just might last longer,” you suggest with a raised brow and a smile indicative of your teasing, effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, it’s just you’ve got a bug in your hair,” he counters quickly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

Your eyes are quick to widen slightly as your hand rises to your head in mild panic, combing your fingers through your hair in a hurry. His laughter was a telltale sign of his deception, that ever so familiar frown pulling down your lips as you swat at his shoulder. “Sirius Black, you’re a pain!”

His laughter was immediate as he caught your wrist from swatting him once more, “I’m not lying! There is something in your hair.”

He releases your arm in favor of reaching upwards, the tips of his fingers pinching the delicate flower petal tangled within your hair. Your words fell silent as his fingertips traveled down to the very end of your hair, a gentle action that had your cheeks staining what must have been an obvious pink as you found yourself looking at the smile on his lips. One that was soft and lopsided, one that grew as he held up the small pink petal before tilting his head at you. You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath until that moment, hadn’t realized the new found quiet had drawn everyone’s attention.

“Told you so,” he states confidently, blowing away the petal and leaving it to flutter to your feet.

You squinted at him and mimicked his words to quickly move on from dwelling on your burning cheeks, something that brought a different kind of smile to his face mere seconds before you’d ruffled his own hair in retaliation.

“I meant what I said,” you remind him, trying to fight your grin as you watch tangled strands of black hair fall back against his cheeks once more.

“I am so terribly hurt,” he scoffs, placing a hand over his heart in a display of faux offense.

In that moment you settle for shaking your head, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful attempt to conceal your smile. A smile so awfully contagious he found himself mirroring it, having lingered on his lips even when you’d looked away from him in favor of looking out of the window. In doing so, you missed the way James had been glancing at you both in the rear view, at the way he shared a knowing grin with Lily, who’d then done so with Remus. It was a moment missed by you both, how could it not be with the way your thoughts had entirely been about each other unbeknownst to you.

It’d been quiet after that, save for the radio and James’ occasional startling outburst of song should a part come on that he’s fond of. It’d been peaceful and upbeat as Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, trying desperately not to think of how you’d made his stomach twist and flutter with butterflies. It was nothing, that’s what he told himself.

—

The place was just as beautiful and just the same as you’d left it the previous year, the sun still beaming through tall trees and the birds still chirping just as contently as they always do. Upon closer inspection, your initials had been carved in the very same tree, untouched since the five of you had left your mark on it the very first time you found it. Of course, it’d become weathered over time, moss having flourished over the bark, but the engraved letters remain regardless of that very fact.

The fire pit that James and Sirius had made still sat in the center of it all, it’s crumbled stones and charred logs and sticks sitting in a heap within it, waiting to be lit once more. Even the logs circling around it to serve as seats had still sat untouched by anyone else, unmoved from how they were left the previous trip out there.

It was exciting to finally be back there, to finally be out of the car in a place you longed to see again. All was well, except one thing.

“That is absolutely not happening,” you state matter of factly, the twigs snapping beneath your foot as you frown at Lily before narrowing your eyes at Sirius. One look at his smile, just one look, and you return your displeased gaze to the two in question, James making no effort to stifle his laughter at the situation. “No way, that is ridiculous!”

“Lupin must have forgotten to pack a third, Y/n/n,” Lily sympathizes with the softest of frowns to accompany her words, though you hadn’t missed the grin she’d tossed her friend’s way as he scratched the back of his neck and fought his own. “I’m sorry!”

“Then I’ll sleep in the bus with Remus,” you state quickly with a raised brow, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly as you squint at Sirius’ very obvious grumbling behind you. His reasons for doing it were entirely unknown to you.

“C’mon, Y/n. Pad’s won’t bite,” James chimes in with a laugh, earning a swat to the back of the head from Lily before he protests her actions in return, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his head. “Not very hard, at least.”

You purse your lips at the brunette and glared, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. A smile that quickly faded as you glanced over your shoulder at the little tent that hadn’t stood very tall on the other side of the fire pit. Your heart leapt and raced within your chest at the thought of being so close, lips tugging downward as you looked back at them with a huff.

“I would say I can’t believe you, but I can,” you groan, brushing past them to get to the lake before they could become aware of your smile.

—

The last traces of sunshine were warm against your skin as you sat along the water’s edge with Lily, taking a moment to yourselves away from the utter chaos that came with the trio in the water. It was still a bit too cold to swim in but that’d never stop them from doing just that. Despite the chill that ran through you from it, everything around you had been exactly how it’s always been.

Wildflowers had bloomed just about everywhere you could imagine amongst patches of green and overgrown grass, framing the lake in varying hues of blues, yellows, purples, and pinks. When you sat at just the right angle, the reflection of the sky over the water had been absolutely wondrous, painting the water orange and pink. The ongoing breeze had been sifting through the leaves in the trees, leaving some to fall to the ground in its wake.

It was absolutely perfect, and you couldn’t think of just anywhere else you’d rather be in that moment than right where you are. You wouldn’t want to be there with anyone else.

“I think this is our best trip yet,” Lily states, leaning back on her palms as she tips her head back, allowing the sun to sweep across her skin.

“I think so too,” you sigh, letting your eyes fall closed as you hear another aguamenti spell used, followed by a bout of laughter that had a smile pulling at your lips at the sound. Her absence in conversation was sure a sign something was on her mind. It always was without fail.

She hadn’t left you to sit and wonder for too long before she spoke up.

“What do you think about Sirius?” There it is.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the question you anticipated, at the one you hadn’t expected her to wait so long in asked you. A soft huff left your lips as you opened your eyes, brows furrowing as she gave you an expectant look.

“Why do you ask?” You say, the corner of your mouth quirking up at her nosiness.

She shrugs her shoulders as she sits up more, heaps of red hair falling to splay against her back. “Just wondering.”

Her smirk was more than obvious as she looked at you, her smile widening. Lily and Remus had kept an eye on you both for quite a while, they knew that something had been there, it wasn’t that hard for them to figure out. Even if you hadn’t been aware of your own foolish love yourself, they’d certainly picked up on it. Because after every witty remark and every scoff and glare, there was always a smile to follow. After every frown and and nose scrunch as one of you stuck their tongue out at the other, there was always a lingering stare just moments after. Anyone could see that, anyone but to two involved that are far too stubborn and argumentative to realize that.

“Well?” She continues.

“Well what?” You ask, pulling your knees to your chest as you look at her.

“You can’t possibly have nothing to say about him, not after all the banter you do. What do you think of him?” She repeats.

You roll your eyes as you avert your gaze from her, resting your chin on your knees as you look ahead. You mull over your words as a laugh leaves your lips, your head shaking slightly as your eyes fall upon him. He’s got strands of wet black hair stuck to his face, cheeks reddened ever so slightly from the combined heat of the summer sun and the chilliness of the water. His smile was beaming and bright as he tips his head back and laughs at something James had said.

“He’s a pain, Lily,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “He’s a pain.”

She laughed at your words, though she took note of the smile that’d been on your lips as she followed your gaze to the very one in question. She hadn’t failed to notice the smile he had returned to you after having done a double take, an action that was far less subtle than he’d hoped. He couldn’t help it though. Not with the way you’ve got flowers tucked in your hair and the way the sunshine made you glow. But when he found himself looking for what he felt was far too long he’d stuck his tongue out at you, wiggling his fingers before you rolled your eyes.

“Oh really?” She inquires, her smile evident in her voice, laughing when you narrow your eyes only briefly.

You pluck a flower from the ground and hold it under your nose for a moment, twirling its stem as it sat pinched between your fingers. You shook your head once more.

“Yes, really.”

—

The tent was rather average, having danced dangerously on the edge being too small. Every gust of wind, no matter how gentle, had puffed against its very walls, rattling the zippers and the flap of the door until you’d finally closed it completely. You knew for a fact your friends had to have done this on purpose, at this point there was no way they couldn’t have judged by the smiles they’d done a terrible job at hiding.

It was becoming increasingly obvious when you sat around the campfire that evening when Lily sat with James, and when Remus managed to take up the entirety of the log he’d claimed his own. It left you no other option than to sit next to Sirius, his chin in his palm as he hid his taunting smile behind his fingers.

You could tell by the way their gaze fell upon the two of you more often than not, and by the way James had displayed his emotions a little too obviously each and every time Lily had whispered something undoubtedly about the two of you in his ear. By the very way that no matter how much your group of friends could talk and bounce from topic to topic with ease, the conversation would always, without fail wind up circling back to the two of you. You were becoming painfully aware of the plan made by none other than Lily and Remus.

You should have known they’d do something like this; they’ve done it at the spring ball in sixth year. It was the very first time Hogwarts had done something like that, it was magnificent. However, you thought your date had stood you up as you sat with Lily and Remus, the mysterious date they’d set you up with. Said date had finally showed up by the side of James, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head upon realizing just who they’d set you up with. You’d frowned as you danced with him, accompanied by a few laughs when he twirled you, accompanied by a few eye rolls when he said something witty. The night had been far better than it started, but you hadn’t spoken of it since.

They’d done it at Hogsmeade. They’d told everyone to meet at the Three Broomsticks, having diligently reminded everyone to do so. You and Sirius had been the first ones there, having sat awkwardly across from each other as you sipped your butterbeer. It was quiet until the two of you began to bicker over something too trivial to remember, one smiling when the other wasn’t looking. It took about thirty minutes for you to realize that the rest of the group hadn’t been coming, thirty minutes with Sirius Black.

So yes, you should have known better than to think that they wouldn’t do something like this again.

“Sirius?” His only response is a hum in that moment, a rather dismal one at that. “How do you suppose I’ll get any sleep if you keep huffing and puffing? It’s rather hard to ignore, you know.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” he quips, though you could hear the very smile in his words even without seeing him.

You shake your head at that with a huff of your own, but he could see the shake of your shoulders from your stifled laughter that you had fought so hard to keep at bay. No, he most certainly could not know that he’d been making you laugh, that would be absolutely terrible to your cause for he wouldn’t forget that he’d been able to do something other than make you grumble.

It was quiet for a few moments after that, nothing but the crickets singing just outside the little tent and the whisper of the wind in the trees. He hadn’t huffed anymore after that, and you quickly came to realize that it was in fact not the cause of your restlessness, though a part of you already knew that. You knew as you lay in that tent that you hadn’t hated his company, not in the slightest as much as your protests would beg to differ otherwise on the matter.

“Would you really rather spend the night with him than me right now? Remus?” He asks quietly, curious after a little while, and you didn’t miss the small bit of offense in his tone. It was the most subtle of indicators that he’d been jealous. Not terribly so, but it was enough to have your words stick in his mind for a few lingering moments longer than it should. He found himself to be just a little offended, because while he hadn’t expected this to be the sleeping arrangements, he’d hoped maybe you wouldn’t dread it as much as you seemed to have.

“In this particular moment, yes,” you quip softly, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth when you hear his displeased huff. “I might even sleep outside with the bears should you continue being jealous.”

“That is not happening,” he says, quick to add more once he realizes just what you’ve said. “And I am not jealous.”

As much as you two may have bickered near incessantly, as much as it may have seemed as though you couldn’t stand each other, he didn’t want you to do such a thing. It was dangerous after all. He knows a flimsy tent would do little to protect you, he knows you’re more than capable with magic, but he’d much rather prefer you weren’t out of his sight. It was safer that way.

“Who’s to say?”

Your back remains to him as you close your eyes briefly, your grin having gone unseen. It’d always been your personal mission to get under his skin ever since he was just a boy who had made it a point to get under yours, and now that he was nearly twenty your goals were no different. Maybe they weren’t as childish and filled with a certain annoyance as they once had been in the very beginning, but the habit was still very much there.

“Y/n/n, could you be serious just once in your life?” He asks.

“You know,” you start, rolling over to lay on your other side. Your breath hitched upon realizing your closeness, his face mere inches from your own and you nearly lose your train of thought as he’d done the same. But you quickly gathered yourself as you swallowed thickly, a smile gracing your lips. “I don’t believe I could if I tried.”

He rolled his eyes as he moved to lay in his back once more, his smile bright as his hair splays across his pillow and you follow suit. Your heart had still been beating wildly in your chest at the closeness you’d shared just seconds earlier, cheeks flushed a soft shade of crimson as you dare not look over at him. He supposed he’s grateful for that because he’s too caught up in looking at you, that same smile on his lips that he knows shouldn’t be there. One look at him and you’d have days, even weeks worth of material to tease him with. But he can’t help it.

He also can’t help it when he laughs, his eyes squeezing shut. “What is it?”

He shakes his head as he continues, your own curious smile forming in your lips as you turn your head and look at him. “I’ve got that bloody ABBA song stuck in my head.”

Your smile widens and a giggle falls past your lips as you return your gaze to the sky, the mingled laughter between the two of you having been something not uncommon as of late. “Well I’ve got that dreaded AC/DC song stuck in mine.”

“It is not dreaded, it’s a classic,” he defends, scoffing lightly as a lingering chuckle accompanies his words.

“And so is mine,” you counter, just as much defense in your voice as he held in his.

“That is absolutely false.”

“It is absolutely not.”

He responded with a heaving sigh, a smile on his lips despite it but he let you win the argument this time because surely there would be more. There would always be more when the two of you were together, but he feels as though he can hardly count on one hand the amount of times you had argued over something serious.

Your shared laughter had since died down to silence amongst everything else, leaving you know choice but to think of how close the two of you were. To think of the fact that never in a million years did you believe you’d ever share a tent with each other. You will admit, only to yourself, that you hadn’t hated it as much as he may have thought. A part of you had found yourself thinking that maybe you’d even miss him had you not been less than a foot away. You thought that a lot lately, unbeknownst to everyone else, or so you thought.

It was then, as you lay beneath the stars in a tent you’d felt was far too small to house two, that you felt his knuckles brush against your own, the very tips of his fingers soon to follow it. The simple touch felt far more electrifying than you had cared to admit to, especially for a simple accident caused from the sheer closeness of your proximity. To be quite honest, you felt rather foolish with the way your heart had skipped a beat and fluttered relentlessly within your chest.

And it was then that you risk a glance to your left the same way he had risked one to his right, eyes meeting in a gaze that’d been shared for the very same reason. You both looked away from the other almost immediately, smiles pulling at your lips as you focus your attention on the sky. No attempts had been made to move.

“Something funny, Y/n/n?” He asks, humor in his tone that only made you smile more than you felt you should have been.

“Yeah,” you start, a soft laugh leaving your lips as your eyes flutter closed. “Are you desperate to hold my hand?”

The laughter he exhaled was immediate at your words, but not out of mocking. “Love, if I wanted to hold your hand I wouldn’t waste my time brushing my fingers over yours.”

That most certainly was a lie, it was absolutely false. As brave as Sirius Black can be, as bold as he always was, he was nervous to hold your hand. He felt as though he was tempting fate already by the mere nudge of his hand over yours. To him, the thought of being in love was both exhilarating and terrifying all the same. To care deeply for someone was in his nature despite his hardships, though he’ll never ever admit it aloud. He didn’t need to.

Sirius could and would risk his life for his friends without a drop of hesitation, he always would. But the idea of slipping his hand in yours, of telling you just how he felt—it was a feat that proved to be difficult. You, you were terrifyingly wonderful and breathtakingly beautiful. You always have a quip to counter his wit, and you would never hesitate to cast a harmless jinx upon him.

He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted to tell you until that very moment, that very day for that matter. With the way you sung that song he swears he dreads every time it plays on the radio. With the way you smiled at him, your cheeks stained a rosy pink when you told him he was a pain. Or the way you’d been beaming as you tucked flowers in your hair with Lily by the lake. He hasn’t known how he made it quite this far without telling you, it was beyond him how he did it.

You weren’t just the girl he’d bicker lightheartedly with on a daily basis over the most trivial of things, always ending in scoffs and eye rolls and narrowed gazes that were more humorous than intended. You weren’t just the one who’d turn his hair every shade of the rainbow given the chance, who could outdo him on the scale of stubborn bravery. You were the girl he found himself following wherever you went, who he found himself thinking of far more often than he told himself he should.

He’s pulled from his thoughts at your soft laughter, turning to lay on his side once more. Before he could ask the reasoning behind it you’d already reached up, your fingers brushing through his hair to grab the lone petal tucked pretty and yellow amongst the strands of black. His gaze never left you, gray and admiring as you tucked his hair behind his ear, the tips of your fingers lingering for just a moment before you pulled them away.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, his breath fanning warmly over your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

The question was soft yet confident, having had enough of the question merely sitting at the edge of his tongue for days, weeks, months on end. It’d made your heart skip a beat, and you were nearly unsure if you’d heard him correctly. Because Sirius Black, the boy who’d never failed to get under your skin, who never failed to make you roll your eyes or purse your lips, the one you’d seemingly loved all along was asking to kiss you.

The grin on your lips was nothing short of an indication that your words would be that of something jesting. “It depends.”

“Do tell, on what?” He inquires, the glow of the moon illuminating the mischief dancing in your eyes.

You moved to prop yourself up on your elbow, your grin widening a fraction the more you look at him. “Just how long has it been that you’ve wanted to ask me that?”

“Who’s to say I’ve ever given it thought before this very moment?” He counters, though he knows he has a million times. You roll your eyes then, tipping your head back only momentarily before looking at him again.

“Could you be serious just once in your life?” You ask, copying his earlier words.

“I don’t believe I could if I tried.”

You shook your head as your hand settled on his cheek, quieting his further mocking as you pressed your lips on his. His laughter sounded softly against your lips, soon dissolving in favor of finally kissing you, of finally doing just what he’d longed to do for an amount of time he’s far too prideful to admit. He found himself smiling when your hair brushed against his skin, at the feel of your nose nudging his own and your fingertips just barely tangling in his hair.

His hand came up to rest over your own, the action soft and distracted as you parted from him only briefly. Brief enough for you to smile against his lips, for your giddy laughter to puff softly against his skin. Fleeting before he kissed you again—once, twice, three times more.

You pulled away completely then, his hand falling from yours as you swipe the pad of your thumb across the dimple in his chin, your cheeks flushed and his lips kiss swollen and pink. He followed after you for just one more, gray eyes sparkling and smile blissful as you lay back on your side.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “bloody hell I do.”

“Sirius Black,” you say, taking your lip between your teeth as you looked at him. “I love you too.”

With that he tugged your hand gently, pulling you back to his lips in a soft yet lingering kiss, one that made your heart pound and another bout of butterflies to flutter in your stomach as he held your hand to his chest. He’d waited too long to ask you just that, wasted too much time bickering over this, that, and the next thing.

“Our friends will never let us hear the end of this, you know,” he murmurs, forehead resting on yours. “They’ll go on for weeks, love.”

“Let them.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @ch0colatefr0gs @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

[supercorpkid]

Get the door, it’s depression.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader.

Word Count: 2850.

Warning: Yep, it’s depression. May cause some triggers, please do not read this if it could cause you any discomfort or pain.

You hear the knock on your door. Kara’s wake up call. You open your eyes, only for them to be filled with tears immediately. You can’t. Can’t get up from bed, can’t go to school, can’t face the world right now.

The knock comes with a weird tug in the stomach. You feel like throwing up. Your heart is racing, your palms are sweating, yet your mouth is completely dry.

Not another panic attack, not another panic attack.

You shut your eyes hard and pray to Rao they forget about your existence. You pray Lena doesn’t open your bedroom’s door with the same old wake up call. You can practically hear her saying, ‘come on, baby. School. Let’s go.’ The sentence makes your stomach twist and turn inside you.

“Babygirl.” You hear Lena’s voice and oh no, here it comes. You turn to the side of your bed. There’s no time to move her out of the way and run to the bathroom, so you vomit right there. “Baby!”

Lena rushes to your side, holding your hair out of the way, while you keep throwing up something that cannot be described as food. You haven’t eaten in more than 18 hours. This yellow thing coming out of you, is not food.

“KARA! Help, please!” Lena yells, stroking your back lightly, trying to calm you down.

“What’s wrong? What’s-?” Kara's face appears in the bedroom. By the time she walks in, you’re basically done leaving everything you had on your stomach on the floor. “Oh no.” She swopes you in, in bridal style, getting you out of your vomited bedroom and into theirs. “You’re ok. Mommy is here. It’s ok, little one.” She says while laying you down in their bed.

“What are you feeling, babygirl?” Lena asks and you think about it. What are you feeling?

You’re feeling sick, but you’re not sick. You’re feeling tired, but you can’t get physically tired so it’s obviously not it. There’s nothing left in your stomach still the tug is right there.There are no words to explain what you’re feeling. There’s no illness you can blame it on.

What if they tell you to go to school? What if they tell you that you must get out of bed? You can’t get up. Your body is not responding to movement.

“Just-” You think about it. Just what? What is this? Why can’t you find the words to describe it? “Sick.” You can’t believe you’re doing this, but you fake cough. Like Kara usually fakes cough. And it’s so obvious, it’s so ridiculously over the top, that you’re sure they’re going to yell at you about it.

They don’t yell. Instead, they share a look. They have one of their telepathic conversations that you are usually not a part of. But this time you can tell what they’re thinking. They know you’re lying. Maybe the fake cough was a little too much. But they also know you don’t lie. Well, almost never, anyways. And you did throw up, and you also skipped meals, and Lena is looking at you like that. So, she knows something is up, she just doesn’t know exactly what.

“Ok.” Lena lets it out, like a sigh. “So you’re sick.” She goes to the bed, sitting next to you and investigating you further. “That means you won’t go to school.”

“Thanks.” You’re immediately relieved about it. Maybe it shows because they look at each other again, no more puzzlement in their faces.

“Do you want to stay in bed today?” Kara asks, and you agree with your head weakly. Not because you’re faking being sick. What you wanted, right now, was to vividly agree with your head because staying in bed is all you want. But weak is all you can do, for some reason. “Do you want mommy to stay with you?”

“Ummm.” No. You don’t want Kara around. You can’t even fathom the thought of her trying to cheer you up or shoving food at your face like all of this can be solved with food. “It’s ok, you should go to work. Is nothing serious.”

“Ok.” She looks disappointed at your answer. “How about if Lena stays?”

No. You also don’t want Lena around. Just the thought of having Lena pressing you to tell her what’s wrong, or that she can look at your face and see all that you’re hiding, sends shivers down your spine.

“Guys, it’s ok. It’s just some stupid cold or something like that.” You can’t get a cold, moron. How is this a cold?

“I’ll bring something for you to eat.” Kara makes her way downstairs and you look at Lena, still looking too knowing next to you.

“I’m ok. I just need to sleep a little more.” You pat her leg to comfort her. Feels weird comforting her when you know you’re the one who needs it so bad. “Go to work, mom. There’s a lot to do before L Corp launches the new device.”

Lena’s hand goes to your cheek. Usually, you would try giving her a little smile, but there’s nothing inside you that would be able to fake a believable smile right now, and you don’t have to give her more reasons to worry.

“Go.” You pat her leg again.

She gives you the longest forehead kiss you’ve ever gotten in your life. “I love you.”

“I’m not dying, you know.” You complain a little, but Lena doesn’t move. Green eyes pleading you to say the same. “I love you too.”

“Rest, baby.” Another forehead kiss. “I’ll ask Kara to check in on you later.”

“Thanks mom.”

When Lena leaves the bedroom, you let out a relieved sigh. It’s ok. They don’t know. You don’t have to explain yourself; you don’t need to find words, you don’t even know, to describe how you’re feeling. You can try and find as many words as you would like but there’s only one that will do. You’re feeling empty.

There is this crushing feeling of worthlessness and hopelessness. There is a war inside your mind, and at the same time you feel like you’re underwater. And you don’t even know how this is possible. You keep hearing ‘you should die’, you keep thinking you hate the Luthor name, you keep wondering why you had to be born with super powers. But at the same time that’s all hard to understand, because your mind feels drowned in muffled noises. You are exhausted.

You hear when Kara walks back into the room with food. You pretend you’re asleep. She knows you’re faking. You know she knows. Yet, you don’t open your eyes, nor does she call you on your lie.

You feel Kara’s big warm hand stroking your arm. You hear a worried sigh. You hear her saying she loves you. And you fall asleep.

When you wake up, it’s because you hear Kara again. You don’t know how long it has been since she left, but you hear her on the phone, and still, you don’t open your eyes.

“Still asleep, love.” She says, right outside the bedroom door. If you wanted, you could use your super hearing and listen to what Lena is saying too, but it’s too much effort and you’re exhausted. “No, she hasn't eaten anything yet. I know, Lena! I’m worried too! Ok, fine. I’ll wake her up. Call you later.”

You bite the inside of your mouth, hold your breath, and wait for it. But Kara doesn’t come in, instead you hear a whoosh of air, and she flies out. You breathe out again. Great, you can go back to sleep.

“Little one. Hey.” You feel Kara’s hand on your hair. “Wake up baby, I brought you donuts.”

“No, thanks. I just want to sleep some more.” You shuffle in bed, turning to the other side and ignoring Kara’s loud sighs.

“You’ve been sleeping for eight hours straight. You’ve skipped dinner last night, breakfast and lunch today. I’m sorry, my heart, but you have to wake up and eat something.” She tries again, even more soft than she was talking before.

“I don’t want to.”

“Please baby, just eat a little bit. There’s donuts, pizza, and your mom sent your favorite pasta from that place you like so much.” Kara’s hand is stroking your back, and it feels nice. But her voice is annoying you. And you’re oh, so, so tired. Her hands move to your face, and she strokes your cheek. “There’s so much stuff you like, sweet girl.”

“Please leave.”

“Little one…”

“Momma, just leave.”

She does, you reckon. You can’t really tell. Your mind is foggy, and you think you’re asleep again. Or maybe you’re awake. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe it’s reality. Maybe-

“Hey kiddo. Can you hear me?” You can. You wish the world would just stop talking to you, though. You wish your phone would stop ringing. You wish there wasn’t a hot yellow sun lamp on top of your body right now. There’s really no reason for it. “It’s aunt Alex. Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

“I’m tired. Let me sleep.”

“Your body functions are normal. Heartbeat, oxygen, temperature. The yellow sun light is on. You’re not supposed to be tired.” She says again, touching the pulse point on your neck.

“Leave, please.” You beg, weakly. There’s no strength, there is no will power inside you.

You pray the world would just stop. The world doesn’t.

“Listen-” The mattress dips next to you when she sits. Alex easily turns your face to her. “Open your eyes and look at me. Please.”

“Why won’t you leave?” You whine, incapable of doing what she’s asking.

“Because I’m worried, your moms are worried, your cousin is worried, and we need to figure this out.” You feel her hands cupping your face, her two thumbs getting under your eyes and pulling the skin down. Your eyes unwittingly open. “Keep them open, please.” Reluctantly, you do. “Follow my finger.” She starts moving her finger in front of your face from one side to the other. “Good. Besides feeling tired, what else do you feel?”

“Annoyed at your presence.” It’s out of your mouth before you can think about it. It’s not a lie, but also not something you would just come out and say it like that. But you have no strength to take it back.

She sighs, loudly. “Just tell me what happened, kiddo. I’m sure I can help you.”

“You can’t.” Your jaw hardens at its own accord. The thought of ‘what happened’ keeps pulling the string around your neck tighter and tighter. The pit on your stomach feels infinite. “No one can, so just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Would you be willing to talk to anyone about this?” Alex doesn’t leave. You wish you were angry about it. You wish you could just tell her to go to hell. But tears find their way into your eyes and down your cheeks without your control. You hate not feeling in control of your own body. She cleans the tears with her thumb, softly. “If you don’t want to talk to me. Maybe to one of your moms?”

“No. Please, no.”

“Jamie?” You think about it. You think about anyone you would like to talk to right now. Not a single name comes to mind.

“Can I just sleep and talk to someone tomorrow?” You beg again. All that you’ve been doing is begging and whining and praying, still not a single soul responds to it. “Please, I’m-I’m exhausted. I can’t do any more talking today.”

“Ok.” Alex agrees. “You can talk tomorrow, but you have to eat today and that is non-negotiable.”

“Ok. I’ll eat.” But you close your eyes again, and before you know it, you’re drifting back to sleep.

It’s night, it’s day. Maybe night again.

Time passes, but it doesn’t.

You twist and turn, and sleep, and sleep-

Kara doesn’t let go of you. Lena sighs and whispers. They worry, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You have no strength to do anything about it.

They sigh, you feel bad. Then worse. Then you don’t feel anything at all.

They cry, you feel shitty. Instead of making them stop crying, you cry too. Then it’s like you’ve never even knew tears in your life.

It’s a full circle.

And then maybe it’s day again.

“Please, little one, wake up.” You blink your eyes at the request. Kara is holding food, and Lena is holding water in front of your face. “It’s been two days, you have to eat or Alex will use the red sun lamp to do an IV rehydration, and it’s going to be so much worse.”

“Mommy.” You whine, closing your eyes again.

“I’m sorry, baby. But you need food.” She sets the food on the side of the bed and sits you up. “Come on, you eat a little and we’ll let you go back to sleep, how about that?”

“How about I just sleep?”

“Hey. No, no.” She holds you up, before you try to lay down again. You hear Kara whispering in your ear. “Remember that you are my heart, and I need my heart to be strong. So please.”

You whine one more time, like a hurt puppy, but you still eat. Anything they put in your mouth, really, you don’t even care what it is. You eat and drink, then sleep and sleep-

“Babygirl. Hey, mom is here with you, ok?” You feel Lena’s hand on your hair, scraping your scalp so softly; you want nothing but that for the rest of your life.

“Don’t stop.” You wail. You must be begging again. It’s all you do.

“Playing with your hair?” She asks and you hum in agreement. “Ok, I won’t. Can I hold you?”

“Yes. But no talking.”

Lena gets comfortable next to you. One arm is around your ribcage, the other one on your hair, scrapping, playing, stroking it.

Your heart is empty, your stomach is empty, now your mind feels the same. It’s almost nice to feel nothing at all.

“Your phone doesn’t stop buzzing.” Lena says a while later and again your words leave your mouth before you can even process them.

“Ignore it. It’s them.”

“Who’s them?”

“The bullies.” Lena’s hand stops moving on your hair, her body stiffens close to yours. But your mind is foggy. The string around your neck tightens harder. Your stomach is an endless void. “Don’t stop, please.”

Jamie comes, she leaves unnoticed.

Maya comes, she leaves unanswered.

You haven’t left your moms’ bed in so long. It’s day, it’s night. Is it day again?

Your therapist comes.

She is in a depressive episode, he says.

Your moms yell, our baby is depressed?

No. She is having a depressive episode. Those are different things, he answers.

You want to scoff. There’s no strength.

You’re not depressed, you’re tired. The world is an infinite pit of misery. He wouldn’t say that you’re depressed if he knew what you’ve been through. Oh, wait. He does.

You’re an infinite pit of despair. You wish people would just go on with their lives, everyone but you. You wish your life would just stopped until you’re not tired anymore and can deal with things.

Every time you’re awake, you hear a voice in your ear saying, ‘You should die. Your family will be better off without you’. And you’re so beaten down, you believe it. So you close your eyes, and sleep and sleep-

“Here, my love.” Lena holds a little pill in front of your face, with a bottle of water.

“What’s that?”

“This will help. I promise.” She asks, or is she begging? You don’t take it. “Please baby, you have to take it.”

“Here, little one.” Kara has to physically open your mouth and put the pill on your tongue. Water washes over it soon after. “You’re going to be fine, my heart. We promise.”

“What was that?” You try again. Their answers weren’t satisfactory.

They look at each other. Must be telepathic talking. You lay your head down on your pillow again. You’re exhausted. So, so fucking tired.

Why the fuck is the world still spinning? Why is the world still standing?

It’s night, it’s day. Is it night again?

“Are you reading this?” You hear far away. Like a dream. Like you might be imagining, projecting, or even hallucinating.

“I-I can’t read any more of that, Lena. Look at the things they are telling her.”

“All because of my stupid last name.”

“For how long? How long did we let this happen for? We should’ve-We-My God, Lena! How did we not notice this before?”

“Too long. But that’s enough. That’s it, Kara. I mean it.”

Is this really happening? Are you dreaming? You feel so disconnected from reality. But it matters not, if it’s real or hallucination. The pull tights around your neck, heart and stomach. There is no hope, no help. Anything they do, will make things worse. But your mind is foggy. By now, you’re just a shell of a person. So instead of screaming for them to stop, you sleep and sleep and sleep-

Notes:

@lilyduranhanna prompted me this and as painful as it was to write, I hope is still enjoyable somehow?

[bokutoslittlebird]

一徹

Oikawa x reader x Iwaizumi

Author’s Note : 一徹 means “dauntless” and “obstinate,” which is what you get by combining Hajime and Tōru. ; this is supposed to be a fic but it’s more like a drabble honestly ; this is the spreader bar I used as reference

Warnings : noncon, somnophilia, sex toys [spreader bar, cuffs, mentions of a collar], mentions of pregnancy, breeding, drugs/drugging, yandere themes, implied cum eating, dacryphilia, choking, asphyxiation

Your unconscious body happens to be heavier than Oikawa expected, yet still manageable as he places you on the mattress. It’s below his house, in the cold basement, but it’s the only place you can go without suspicions arising. Most of the basement floor was empty, save for the mattress and the spreader bar that would keep you nice and spread. Leaning back and admiring you had his adrenaline levels lowering, the thrill of dragging you here slowly seeping from him.

Watching you, Oikawa focused on the rise and fall of your chest, the steady rhythm calming himself down. It was an effort to get you unguarded, your instincts telling to avoid him. Ever since his eyes locked with yours the first day of his high school days, something told him things would be different. When you became the manager of the volleyball club, you got to learn about the real side of him, never acting like his other fangirls. This made his heart twitch, his longing for you fester into something dark and sinister the day you rejected his advances.

Yet, his less than innocent desire for you was joined by a dear friend of his. Iwaizumi also had a small crush on you, but he could never confess to you. How could he? When you turn away Oikawa, it put a damper on Iwaizumi’s own longing for you. Oikawa knew his best friend better than anyone and Iwaizumi knew Oikawa better than anyone else. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with; their goal was obstinate, nothing could come and stop the gears from the motion they’ve begun.

A groan from your form had Oikawa almost jumping out of his skin, too lost in his own memories and thoughts. The memory of his talk with Iwaizumi is fresh in his mind, the thought of finally fulfilling his dark desire and getting something even more out of it having his restraint withering away. Iwaizumi wouldn’t be able to join you two for quite some time, his own university classes already have begun. Oikawa would take the semester off, focusing on honing his volleyball skills until his trip to Argentina was due.

With you unconscious, Oikawa took it upon himself to strip you out of your clothes. He wasn’t a fiend, he wouldn’t leave you bare in the shivering cold basement. No, he has a recently bought dress, baby blue and silky, specifically tailored to your size. The dress is a halter top, easy to slide on you and it gives easy access to your chest and the goods between your legs. Having the dress situated on your body, he gets to work with putting your wrists and ankles in the spreader bar. He thought about getting a collar for you, but he decided he’d have another way of claiming ownership over you.

Looking at you, completely knocked out thanks to the drug and vulnerable, your puffy cunt exposed to his darkened eyes, it finally shred the last bit of his restraint. He’s sure Iwaizumi wouldn’t be too mean, he should be able to understand the overwhelming desire that Oikawa holds for you. Moving himself between your legs, he notices how dry you are. Despite taking advantage of you and drugging you without consent, he isn’t as mean as to stick it in dry. He wants your cunt absolutely drooling over his cock by the time he sinks into you.

Putting two fingers into his mouth, he coats them in his saliva before pushing them past your folds. You’re so tight around him, even in your sleep, he momentarily wonders if you’ll take him in. Soft moans come from your lips, whines following them as he continues to pump two fingers into you. Once he finds your juices coating his fingers, he pushes in a third one. The stretch is almost too much, his fingers spreading and pumping into you as you fight the effects of the drug. He’s not stupid, he’s well aware that you’ll probably be waking up soon. He doesn’t plan on having some bullshit excuse, he will be completely honest with you.

Removing his fingers from your heat, he laps at the juices coating them. It’s not as much as he was expecting to get from you, but he just shrugs it off. That’s not the focus, it’s just to help ease the pain. His eyes watch your face, the scrunch of your nose as your eyes flutter open, most likely blurry and hazy as he frees his cock from his pants. The exercise pants don’t hold his erection back very well, it is quite obvious. Watching confusion run across your face and then horror and fear replace it as your eyes land on him... he finds himself enjoying it much more than he should.

“Oikawa, what’re you-”

“You should get used to calling me Tōru, dear,” he cuts you off, a sickening grin stretching across his face. “After tonight, we’ll be much closer than before,”

“No, stop!”

“You don’t get to decide that. I’ve waited three long years for this, I’m not going to stop now. I’ve listened and respected your boundaries, but now,” he rubs his cock against your folds, a shivering going up his spine once he does, “you’re all mine. You’ll be all mine, forever. Iwa-chan will be joining us soon, so let’s have some fun together, hm?”

Pushing into you is easier said than done. Even with the added slick that his fingers created, you’re squeezing him so tightly. A whispered ‘fuck’ escapes him, groans following as he rocks his hips into you. Your screams echo off the walls of the basement, but they do little to stop him. It’s painful for now, but he knows you’ll find pleasure in it soon enough. He stops halfway in, letting your walls spread to accompany the rest of him as he runs his hands over the skin of your thighs. Tears stream down your face, whimpers telling him to stop, but he just finds you even more beautiful than before. His momentary stillness has you relaxing a bit, possibly because you think he’s listening to you. Another sinister smile and he shoves the rest of him into you, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out.

More screams come out, tears steady as a stream sliding down your face, but the momentary pleasure and adrenaline from hearing and seeing them has passed. A small growl comes from his throat as his hand latches onto your throat. The sudden movement has you gasping, the pressure too much as you find your oxygen limited. “Shut up, why don’t you? Nobody’s gonna save your ass.” He gets more tears in return, but he doesn’t care.

Rocking his hips, he finds your walls easing up around his cock until your juices have coated it. Another grin paints across his handsome face as he rears his hips back and slams them into you, you gasping from the force and intensity of the thrust. It’s only the beginning, however, as he continues to move his hips back and forth and slam his hips into yours. The skin slapping sounds join in with his grunts and your moans, gargled as well as your screams from his hand. More pressure is put on your throat as he picks up his pace.

The rocking and rolling of his hips against you has your toes curling, your body losing itself in the pleasure. His grunts fill your ears and mind, only focusing on those two things as he chases his own end. The scruff of shoes against the concrete floor doesn’t even register, your eyes rolling as Oikawa comes to his end with a moan. A small whine comes from his throat, a warm liquid filling your insides and a haze filling your mind. The afterglow only lasts a moment, your senses returning to earth once the sound of clapping echoes around the room.

“A great show, Oikawa, but I could do better,” Iwaizumi says, his signature frown in place. His words quickly shatter the hope you had of him helping you, finding that your old friends are darker than you ever thought possible.

“Well, then show me, Iwa-chan,” his voice pitches in tone, almost mocking like, as he uses Iwaizumi’s nickname. A quick flick of his head has Oikawa removing himself from you, a soft whine as he leaves you. His seed oozes out, plopping onto the mattress below. Iwaizumi takes his place, but he keeps his eyes on yours as he does. Sticking his tongue out, he slides it along his thumb and fingers, keeping his gaze locked with yours, making it more sensual than it should.

“You should focus on the pleasure of her, not yourself,” he says to Oikawa, even though his focus is still on you. You find yourself unable to break the trance, only able to do so as your eyes roll back. The orgasm that was never gotten starts again, the buildup as Iwaizumi’s fingers thrust into you. Oikawa’s sopping mess of his cum makes it easy to slip three fingers in, his thumb pressing into your clit and rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves. A scream is ripped from your throat, but it’s not one of fear nor pain — it’s of pleasure. It’s not long until you’re gushing around Iwaizumi’s fingers, Oikawa’s seed gushing out as you do. His gasp sounds so far away, your high of release finally letting your walls relax. Iwaizumi smiles at that, fingers rubbing against your walls.

“See, look at that. She’s more at ease now because of the orgasm. You should take this as a learning experience, Oikawa,”

“Oh, Iwa-chan. For a virgin, you do know a lot about sex,” Oikawa giggles, hand over his mouth as Iwaizumi’s face blares red. He pushes down the embarrassment, turning back to you laid out before him.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want my first time to suck,” his murmur is so low, you barely hear it over the pounding heartbeat in your ears. The sensation of something once more nudging your entrance has your toes curling, knowing it’s Iwaizumi’s cock this time. Pushing his head in, the flared mushroom tip stretches you farther than Oikawa’s did. The pain has you screaming once more, tears screwed shut as tears slip out. “Watch closely,”

“Yes, sir!” Oikawa practically bounces over to the two of you, leaning over to watch Iwaizumi sinking into you. Oikawa’s cum gushes around Iwaizumi’s cock, the girth of the appendage being too much for you. But he doesn’t solely focus on that, instead he pushes his thumb against your clit once more, rubbing it in circles and flicking it. The rattling of metal fills both their senses, Oikawa’s hands moving up to stop you from accidentally hurting one of them.

It’s almost a miracle, watching your eyes roll back and tongue loll out with a brief roll of Iwaizumi’s hips against you. You’re so sensitive now, Iwaizumi shows Oikawa, before he begins to thrust into you. While Oikawa holds onto the bar and your leg, Iwaizumi’s free hand moves to your other leg. The position has him able to freely see your face while also being able to see your body. Each jolt of pleasure has you shivering, your breasts and body bouncing with each thrust. Although he can’t pin you down and drill himself into you, he finds himself picking up the pace as grunts and groans slip from his mouth.

The way Oikawa practically humps your leg has you wondering if he’s unable to have patience for his turn or if he wishes he was you. Unable to think properly for long, your mind soon focuses on how well Iwaizumi fills you up and the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass, slick with cum and your own fluid. A much more ferocious growl from Iwaizumi has you mewling, legs tensing and a shiver running through you as you squeeze around him, another orgasm ripped from you. The feeling of being full fills your walls once again, Iwaizumi’s groan accompanying it as his seed fills you up. It’s just as heavy and hot as Oikawa’s, sputtering out around the sides of his cock and out of your hole.

A groan, softer this time, comes from him as he pulls out. His limp cock is still as impressive as it was when it was hard, thick and long. Oikawa smiles at him, his own milky fluid splattering across your leg and stomach seconds later as he finishes with a moan. Heavy breathing fills the room, the only thing in the room, until Iwaizumi breaks it.

“Eat it out of her. Then, you can try again,”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Long Lost Prince Part 2;

Merlin leads his people home and Arthur grapples with whether he should keep his feelings to himself or not.

Part 1

Just like Arthur promised, a portion of Camelot's army mixed with around fifty of Merlin's knights are marching towards the Dragonlands within a month.

Merlin and Arthur lead the way, Sir Thornway, Sir Leon, and Sir Mordred following closely behind. It was decided fairly quickly that Hunith and Gaius would stay in Camelot; they were desperate to get home, but they weren't fighters, and whilst the chance of attack was fairly low considering the army behind them and the two dragons circling ahead, Arthur and Merlin were unwilling to risk it.

At a quick pace, Arthur reckons they could've made the journey in a week, but the army is slow-moving, and it takes them almost three to reach the border. They don't hear a peep out of anyone as they move through the countryside, though Arthur does raise an amused eyebrow at Merlin every once in a while, as and when the Warlock chuckles at Kilgharrah whispering in his head about all the various pathetic mercenaries and bandits running away screaming at the sight of his silhouette against the clouds.

The Dragonland, in comparison to Camelot, was a very small kingdom, but it’s capital city was near the far border, backed by miles and miles of towering mountains. In one of the many sessions of reminiscing that Merlin, Thornway, and Kilgharrah have in the evenings, they discuss the mountains at length. They were mostly uninhabited by people, even before the purge, they were far too treacherous for those without a guide and strong magic, and even then the paths were still dangerous.

The great mountains were where the Dragon’s resided; in a network of twisting tunnels and great caverns carved with fire and magic. Merlin vaguely remembers being taken there a few weeks before... before they left. Thornway told him that retreating into the mountains was one of the back up plans, if Uther’s army was too big and there was no hope of escape through the countryside.

(Arthur frowned at that. He was frowning at a lot nowadays, but Merlin just squeezed his leg under the blanket they were sharing (Leon did NOT smirk and Arthur did NOT blush) and whispered, yet again, that he was not his father.)

The escape through the mountains was planned to be a last ditch effort though, even with the dragons leading them and their strongest sorcerers protecting them, the perilous paths, with their knife edge drops and loose rocks and harsh snow, would have taken too many casualties to count. Though, in the end, escaping through the countryside had been just as deadly.

Arthur also used the journey to think about what Leon had said. Though Merlin and The King stuck close by for the whole trek, conversation was sparse (though the silences were comfortable); Arthur was unsure how to bring up the inevitable change in their relationship, though he knows that, for his own peace of mind if nothing else, he should.

They were deep into the Kingdom, having passed all the now doubly abandoned outer villages (Arthur was right in thinking that two dragons and a marching army scared away all the various mercenary groups and bandits) and now only a day’s ride from the capital, that Arthur asked Merlin the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks. The two of them were sat against a fallen log, the night flourishing around them. The silence over the rest of the camp was tense, the knowledge that they were close hanging in the air, but the silence between Merlin and Arthur was comfortable, peaceful:

“What are you planning on doing?”

Merlin took a noticeably deep breath and Arthur turned to him, trying desperately to keep the worried frown off his face:

“I don’t know. I didn’t really discuss it with ma, we just... wanted to get home, and work from there, see what happens I guess.”

Arthur nodded, gulping slightly before he responds:

“Do you think she wants the throne? Your mother? Or will you become King?”

Merlin chuckles, but Arthur clenches his hands and looks away at the humourless lilt the noise has:

“I’d love to see her back in her crown, on her throne, but it’s been a long time. She did everything with my father by her side, I don’t know if... if she would want to do it on her own. I don’t know that she would cope.-”

The Warlock turns to face Arthur, and it strikes The King how close they are when he can feel Merlin’s breath on his cheek. He turns to meet his gaze once more:

“-What would you do, Arthur? In my place?”

Arthur can only hold his stare for a few moments before he looks to his lap, shaking his head slightly:

“I don’t know, Merlin. Tell me what’s on your mind, I... I can’t promise that I’ll have the answers, but maybe saying things out-loud will help.”

Merlin nods as he shuffles in his spot slightly, and Arthur likes to think that he was moving closer:

“I... I’m desperate to get home. But at the same time, I waited. I waited for twenty years, I’ve built myself a life in Camelot, I’d... given up on ever returning home, and I was just about coming to terms with the fact that Camelot was my home now. And then... this. I have to lead my people back, I know that, I owe it to them, it’s my job to protect them and give them back their heritage-”

Arthur interrupts quietly:

“Your heritage.”

Merlin sighs:

“-yeah, my heritage. My mother, and Gaius, and my people, and... and I, we deserve to go home. But I was only six when we left, I never got all the lessons on how to be a Politician, a King. Yes, I’m the heir, yes, I remember home and the crown and being a little Prince, but I am not built to be a King, Arthur, I don’t want to- I can’t fail my people, but I fear I will. I... I’ve been putting up a brave front for my mum, for Thornway, but I’m terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing, Arthur. What if I mess up?”

Arthur allows a small smile to slip onto his face as he takes Merlin’s fidgeting hands in his own. He shakes his head as he huffs out a short laugh and Merlin looks at him incredulously:

“You couldn’t possibly, Merlin. I know you well, do I not?-”

Merlin nods his head vigorously:

“Better than anyone.”

Arthur fights the blush:

“-And I’m telling you, that you have nothing to worry about. You may not have had official lessons, but you have the mind for politics.-”

Arthur glances to his lap briefly as he takes a fortifying breath, stroking his thumbs over the back of Merlin’s hands, still clutched in his, and looking up to him again:

“-I had all those lessons. All that training, and practicing, and tutoring. But I was still so... lost when I became King. I don’t think I ever told you, Merlin, but the only thing that got me through was you, always by my side. Because I knew that you would never let me fail, because I trusted you to see my shortcomings and make up for them without fuss, without fault. And you did, without asking for any thanks, or recognition, like you do with everything. To this day, you think I’m a good King because of destiny, but that’s utter bollocks and I’ve always known it. I’m a good King, Merlin, because you made me a good man first. And on days when I doubt my own rule, I remind myself of how much faith you have in me, and it gives me strength, because I know you would never allow me to fail, and on the off chance I fall, I know you would catch me. Every good King who cares about his people has doubts, Merlin, but however much faith you have in me? I have the same amount, if not more, in you. You’ll do just fine.”

Merlin looks at him with wide, teary eyes, and Arthur flushes under the scrutiny. The King goes to say something, maybe a flippant joke to de-charge the atmosphere, but before he can utter even a word, Merlin throws himself at him, wrapping tight arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Arthur almost falls back, but he holds steady, chuckling slightly as he returns Merlin’s hug with equal intensity. Merlin’s muffled voice from his shoulder has Arthur tightening his grip:

“Will you catch me? If I fall?”

Arthur moves a hand up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head:

“You won’t fall. But I’d spend the rest of my life stood below you with my arms out ready, Merlin, if that gave you just a fraction of the belief in yourself that you should have.”

Neither pulled away for what felt like hours, and by the time Thornway wondered over to check on them, they had fallen asleep against the log, arms still firmly wrapped around each other.

He smiles mournfully as he drapes a blanket over them. You would have to be blind to miss the odd moroseness that had overtaken them both, and the old knight knew that his Prince was dreading having to leave Arthur, and that Arthur was dreading the same. They shuffle in their sleep, and Thornway freezes, worried that he had woken them, but when Arthur just mutters Merlin’s name and moves impossibly closer to the other man Thornway sighs. This is going to be... painful for the two of them, and he’s not quite sure how he can help.

~

After another day of travel, they find themselves moving through the capital city, towards the castle sitting at the foot of the mountains.

The army was left with orders to methodically clear the city whilst Arthur, Leon, Thornway, and Mordred headed straight for the citadel gates. Though the city had fallen into disrepair, the castle looked like it had barely been touched, even by the elements, and Thornway explained that powerful enchantments laid over the ancient building, preventing it from being invaded or damaged by even the strongest of armies:

“It was meant to be a stronghold, somewhere we could hide and keep our people safe in emergencies, but we knew if we did that we would have backed ourselves into a corner. Uther was taking over more and more of the city every day, if we locked ourselves in... we would have just starved. Trying to escape through the city and out into the wilderness was our only hope.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly as he stares up at the main door:

“Can we even get in?”

His voice is quiet and shaky, and Mordred steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder as Thornway replies with a small smile:

“You’re the heir, the doors will always open for you, Little Falcon.”

Merlin replies with a weak smirk and flushed cheeks:

“You know, I’m not all that little anymore.”

Thornway barks out a laugh as he shakes his head slightly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as the younger man pouts:

“Well, you’ll always be littler than me.-”

Merlin goes to retort, but before he can, his knight steps back and gestures to the great doors in front of them:

“-Go on, it’s time for us to finally come home, I think.”

Merlin gulps and nods, and Mordred lets his hand fall back to his side as the older Warlock takes the steps two at a time, hesitating only slightly before he wraps his hand around one of the doors’ metal rings. It twists easily in his grip, and the door swings open. Merlin has to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs, the billowing clouds of dust being disturbed for the first time in two decades making it almost impossible to see into the dark hall.

It settles after a few moments and Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him wordlessly and relaxing only when he feels Arthur take his hand. The blonde King gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Merlin takes his first shaking steps across the threshold.

He walks through the dark corridors slowly, one hand tightly clenched in Arthur’s, the other trailing along the wall next to him. The rest of the group is silent as they follow him, and nothing can be heard bar their muffled steps over the dusty rugs, and the deep breathing of Merlin and Thornway.

Merlin seems to know where he’s going, so no one questions the corners he turns and the rooms he passes without second thought. The deeper into the castle they get, the darker it becomes, until finally Merlin stops, a long hall stretched out in front of him. His eyes flash gold and the torches lining the walls flare up, illuminating the corridor in golden light. Arthur turns to look at the Warlock beside him, empathetic tears gathering in his eyes as he sees tracks on Merlin’s cheeks. 

Merlin turns to glance at Thornway, whose in a similar state, before closing his eyes and flattening his free hand against the wall, digging his fingertips into the cracks as his voice comes out quiet and raspy:

“I know these halls, this stone.-”

Thornway takes a deep stuttering breath, muttering Merlin’s name. Merlin steps away from the wall, looking back to his knight with a weak, teary smile:

“-Do you remember? Chambers filled with golden light, vast halls bustling with people and dragons and magic?”

Thornway gulps and nods, slowly moving towards Merlin and putting a hand on his shoulder:

“I remember.-”

He nods down the corridor, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before asking:

“-You remember what’s down there?”

Merlin smiles and nods, squeezing Arthur’s hand and leading the group down the hall, obviously impatient to get to wherever their destination is, but unwilling to walk any quicker.

Leon and Arthur share a confused and slightly concerned look but don’t say anything, allowing Merlin and Thornway to lead the way. Once again, Merlin hesitates only slightly before pushing the door at the end of the corridor open. and the six of them gather inside the immense chamber. Like the rest of the castle, it was dusty, but untouched; unlike the rest of the castle, it was bathed in colourful light. The walls were high, the ceiling obviously stretching far above the surrounding rooms, and the afternoon sun shone brightly through giant stained glass windows. 

Reds and blues and greens and every other colour imaginable were splashed across the stone floor, painting pictures of dragons and flowers and family, but everyone’s eyes skip over the colourful artwork, instead being drawn to the two golden thrones sat on a dais at the other end of the hall. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand, walking towards the thrones with wide eyes as the others stay back, watching with a mix of pride and grief. Thornway follows after a few moments and Leon has to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly when the King looks at him. Arthur clenches his hands and looks away, but stays by the door, wanting more than anything to be with Merlin through this but also understanding that it wasn’t his place.

Merlin finally reaches the thrones.

He wipes the thick dust from the armrests with shaking, but reverent hands before sitting down on the steps, slightly to the side of the golden seats. He runs his fingertips over the stone, remembering every bump and crack and texture, and Thornway stands behind him, in line with the thrones, putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering:

“Now this brings back memories.”

Merlin nods, looking up at him, tears no longer flowing, but still gathering in his eyes:

“I... I don’t remember much, but I still... know. I know this is where I sat, with you behind me, ma and dad next to me on their thrones. I remember dad promising that when I was older, they’d have a throne made for me, so I could sit with them.”

Thornway nods, slowly moving to sit beside him, ignoring the creaking in his bones as he lets his weight fall onto the stone steps:

“Hmm. foreign royalty and dignitaries thought it odd that the King and Queen let you sit in on meetings, even as a young child, but they were always adamant; they didn’t want to hide you away. You were always safe, of course, but they wanted you exposed to the people and the people exposed to you. I suppose they wanted to nurture a natural love and protectiveness of your people in you; how could they expect you to serve the Kingdom well if you were only doing so out of duty, and not genuine love?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully before smiling briefly up at Arthur, still stood on the other side of the room. When Arthur tentatively returns the smile, despite not hearing the hushed conversation, Merlin looks to Thornway next to him, bumping shoulders with a short giggle:

“Probably why I’ve always been so disrespectful to Arthur, everyone in here was equal, no matter what. I guess that’s why the treatment of servants and commoners was such a shock when I moved to Camelot, I don’t really remember much of home, but it definitely felt different.”

Thornway nods as Merlin stands, holding out a hand to the knight and pulling him to his feet. Merlin’s gaze moves around the room, though he stays rooted to the spot, and Thornway asks his question quietly:

“What do you want to do? Do you want to finish clearing the castle and the city first, or fetch your mother and uncle first?”

Merlin gulps before taking a deep breath, staring at the floor and saying in a small voice:

“I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

Thornway chuckles and shakes his head:

“This is your decision, Little Falcon. You are the Crown Prince, this is your Kingdom, your city, your people, trust your instincts. What should be done?”

Merlin looks to Arthur once again, reminding himself of the King’s promise to catch him should he fall, before looking back at Thornway with a determined expression:

“Send Kilgharrah to fetch ma and Gaius. We no longer need him as a deterrent, and we’ll still have Aithusa. He can make the journey to Camelot and back in a week at most, knights, even on horseback, will take at least twice that. It’s been a while since either of them went flying, but they’ll remember soon enough, and I trust Kilgharrah to keep them safe. We can keep clearing the city and start rough plans for rebuilding whilst we wait.”

Thornway grins and nods proudly:

“Exactly what I would have suggested. See? You’ll be just fine.-”

Merlin returns his grin shyly, blushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. Thornway rolls his eyes good-naturedly before gesturing to the others:

“-Come, My Lord, we should let the others know and head out to send Kilgharrah off as soon as possible.”

Merlin pushes the older knight’s shoulder playfully at the use of a title, but Thornway just smirks and waves Merlin ahead of him.

~

Arthur, Leon, and Mordred were told of the plan as the group made their way out of the castle again, having to cover their eyes when they step into the bright sunlight. They all smiled fondly as they saw Merlin’s growing confidence, though Arthur had to stamp down the growing anxiety swirling in his stomach; he refused to be sad for himself.

Kilgharrah was flying back towards Camelot within the hour, and Merlin was separating the army into groups and assigning tasks with a strong voice and straight back, taking every question and suggestion in his stride and organising hundreds of people without issue.

Arthur knew that there was still a conversation to be had between himself and Merlin, though with every day that passed he questioned whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice the way Merlin always asked for his council, even when he didn’t need it, always searched for his eyes in the crowd when he addressed his people, but that didn’t mean that his... affections, were returned.

Everyone, even Thornway now, kept shooting him pitying looks, and he figured out fairly quickly that he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. Leon was the only one he could rely on to convincingly pretend nothing was wrong, and Arthur used that to back up his deliberate ignoring of his stupid emotions.

Six days had passed and the clearing of debris from the lower town was well on its way when Kilgharrah landed in the castle courtyard, his two passengers tense and teary. Only Hunith, Gaius, Merlin, and Thornway took the journey through the castle this time; the others continued to help with the work in the town, not quite feeling that they would be welcome on the emotional tour.

Hunith decided fairly quickly that she would move on to become Queen Mother. Merlin would be crowned King (though he put his foot down and insisted that it wouldn’t happen until everything was properly sorted, and the people were settled back in the city), and though Hunith would still be the most senior of the royals, Merlin would technically have the most power. 

Arthur had mixed feelings about that. 

As King, Merlin would be a lot busier, would have a lot more responsibilities, but equally, he would have much more control over the use of his time; somehow making it both harder and easier to organise visits between the two of them. Though Arthur, of course, didn’t mention such feelings, just pulled Merlin into another tight hug and congratulated him with a grin.

With the help of Merlin and Mordred’s magic, and the few sorcerers scattered throughout the army they had brought, clearing the town of debris and rebuilding what they could with whatever was left went fairly quickly. Soon enough, the blacksmith’s and an infirmary were up and running, and the farms were ready for work to commence, just as soon as the resources from Camelot arrived.

The castle, whilst it had been fully explored by Merlin, Hunith, Thornway, and Gaius, had yet to be opened up to others or cleaned properly, but no one mentioned it. The gang slept happily in homes rebuilt in the upper town, and accepted Merlin’s excuse of wanting to focus on the people’s infrastructure first.

It was a week or so after Hunith and Gaius had arrived, Kilgharrah and Aithusa had disappeared into the mountains with Merlin’s approval, and Arthur once again found Merlin stood in the otherwise empty, still dusty throne room, staring at the golden seats with his hands in his pockets and his face tense.

Years ago, Arthur would’ve been wrong in his assumption that Merlin hadn’t heard him approach, but just this once he knows that he’s right. Arthur had slowly become an expert on picking up Merlin’s ticks, and even in the low light of the evening the blonde could tell that Merlin had no clue he was there.

Arthur didn’t want to feel like he was intruding, so cleared his throat quietly, only walking closer to the other man when his head whipped around, smiling slightly when he saw it was just Arthur.

Arthur stepped up next to him, and they both stared at the thrones in silence, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Everything had been so busy in recent weeks that, other than the conversation two weeks earlier, Arthur and Merlin had spent barely any time together, just the two of them; every other time Arthur had found Merlin alone in the throne room he had shut the door quietly behind him and left, too afraid to intrude, not quite ready to start a conversation. The conversation.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat again and speaks in a quiet voice, not looking to the Warlock next to him:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin responds almost immediately, but like Arthur, he speaks quietly and doesn’t move his gaze from the thrones:

“Nothing, everything. I’m... doing ok, I think.-”

Arthur nods with a small smile, but Merlin continues before he can say anything:

“-But I’m scared that I’m only doing well because you’re here. You have to go back to Camelot eventually and... it sounds stupid, but I... I don’t want you to go. I need you, Arthur.”

Arthur gulps, finally looking to Merlin’s sorrowful face, though the other man refuses to meet his gaze. He takes his hands out of his pockets, fiddling with them roughly, rubbing his knuckles together and scratching his palms harshly. Arthur clenches his jaw, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own gently and running soothing fingers over the younger man’s callouses:

“I know what you mean.-”

Merlin looks to him in surprise, his eyes widening, and Arthur continues with a small smile:

“-I told you, Merlin, I’m only a good King because of you. I’ve never had to rule on my own before and I’m dreading going back to Camelot without you.-”

Merlin shakes his head roughly, but Arthur continues once again, before he can disagree:

“-No, Merlin, don’t argue, it’s true. I... I need you as well, I don’t want to be without you, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to cope with a week’s ride between us. Leon tried talking some sense into me back in Camelot, and I know he was right, that all relationships take effort and we’ll have to work incredibly hard to stay in each other’s lives in any significant capacity, and I’m absolutely willing to do anything to keep you close, if not physically then... otherwise, but I’m still...-”

Arthur sighs and looks away, his cheeks just a little bit pink as he continues quietly:

“-I’m still scared to be without you.”

Merlin gulps and squeezes Arthur’s hand in his own, waiting for the blonde to finally look up at him again. The Warlock smiles at the eye contact and Arthur returns it weakly as Merlin finally replies:

“The last ten years of my life have revolved around you, completely and utterly, and I know it’s selfish of me to... not want that to change. I know I’m staying here, with my people, as their King. I would never consider abandoning them, not really, but I desperately want to, just so I can stay with you. We... we’ll figure something out, find some way to communicate quickly. I’m magic incarnate, there has to be a way, I... I’ll make a way, if I have to.”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes finally overflow at Merlin’s determined tone, but before the other man can say anything about it, Arthur pulls him into a tight hug, clutching his cloak in shaking fingers and burying his face in his shoulder, for once feeling grateful for the extra inch in height that Merlin has on him. Merlin returns the hug without hesitation, closing his eyes against the tears, though not managing to stop them from falling as he quietly speaks, his voice thick:

“I promised that I would stay with you until the day I died, but I... I have to leave, I... I can’t-”

Arthur tightens the hug as he interrupts him:

“No, Merlin, you owe me nothing, you don’t have to explain. You’ve already given me my kingdom, now it’s my chance to return the favour. I would never ever ask you to leave this behind just for me.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s body shaking with silent sobs, and he runs a hand through his hair softly, breathing deeply in an effort to hold in his own bawling. 

They stand wrapped in each other for a while, neither willing to let go even when their tears dry up and their breathing evens out. Eventually Merlin rasps out a whispered:

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur pulls back at long last, but doesn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes before replying:

“You won’t. We’ll take turns hosting Yule celebrations, and I can visit on your birthday, and there’ll be tournaments of course, and trade routes, and shared patrols near the border. I refuse to let you slip from my grasp, Merlin, you’ll never be without me, not for long anyway.”

Merlin huffs out a gentle laugh, and Arthur thinks the flutter of his breath over his cheeks and through his eyelashes is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt. Both of them open their eyes, but they don’t move away from each other, even as they stare, becoming increasingly aware of the very little amount of space between them. Arthur’s brows crease slightly but he ignores the concerned question in Merlin’s eyes, instead lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw, gulping as Merlin’s expression falls into a soft smile.

The King takes a deep breath as he summons his courage, eyes filling with tears again as he clears his throat, whispering so quietly that it’s a miracle Merlin hears him, even with only inches between them:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to... I mean I... -”

He cuts himself off with a quiet huff, and Merlin smirks at the slight blush dusting his cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue. Arthur shuts his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath before opening them with a newfound determination. He meant it, he’d come this far, he was not going to let Merlin slip away:

“I love you, you are the single most important person in my life, and I would go to the ends of this world just to see you smile. I owe you my life, and so much more than that; you’ve been making promises and swearing oaths to my crown for years-”

Merlin interrupts him quietly:

“To you, to Arthur, not the crown, to you.”

Arthur huffs slightly and rolls his eyes:

“I’m trying to confess my undying love here Merlin, and I’m not very good with this whole... expressing shit, so shut up and let me finish.-”

Merlin snorts but stays otherwise silent, raising an eyebrow to prompt Arthur to continue:

“-Like I was saying. You’ve been swearing things for years, and now it’s my turn.-”

Arthur steps back, taking Merlin’s hands tightly in his own as he lowers himself to one knee, pressing his forehead to the Warlock’s knuckles:

“-I swear on my crown and in the name of Camelot, that I will always love you, that I will always be ready catch you, and that I will never stop putting the work in to make sure I don’t lose you, that you don’t lose me.”

The blonde can hear Merlin’s stuttered breathe and barely has time to process Merlin’s whispered-

“I accept your oath.”

-before he’s being pulled to his feet and urgently kissed.

One of Merlin’s hands settles on the side of Arthur’s neck and the other grips his hip. Arthur’s arms flail for only a moment in his shock before he moves to clutch Merlin’s collar tightly, closing his eyes and kissing back, pushing as much of his devotion into the action as possible and wanting nothing more than to sooth the stress-induced bite marks on Merlin’s lips.

They pull back far too soon, as far as both of them are concerned, once again resting their foreheads against each other as they catch their breath. Arthur’s face slowly morphs into a grin as he says:

“And to think I was stressing over whether I should tell you for weeks.”

Merlin rolls his eyes in response, snorting in amusement as he admits, much to Arthur’s chagrin:

“Believe me, I already knew, you weren’t very subtle. You’ve been sulking.”

Arthur lets out an incredulous huff and pulls back, still holding Merlin’s collar but staring at Merlin’s amused raised eyebrow with wide eyes:

“I am a King, Merlin, I do not sulk.”

Merlin chuckles:

“Well so am I, and yes you do.”

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly:

“Not yet you’re not. That’s besides the point, if you knew... why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin’ face falls slightly, and if Arthur had to guess, he’d say that Merlin looked a little guilty. The blonde furrowed his brows but pulls his Warlock close again, stroking his jaw softly with his thumb as he waits for an answer:

“I... I love you, Arthur, more than anything, but... I wanted see if you would do anything about it. I knew I would do anything for you, but I needed... I needed to know if you thought I was worth the distance, the effort. If I said something first, I never would have known... I would always be second guessing if you were about to... to break it off, because you didn’t want to put in the frankly ridiculous amount of effort it’s going to take to keep things... good.”

Arthur smiles and shakes his head disbelievingly, landing a quick kiss to the tip of Merlin’s nose and smirking at the way his face scrunches in response:

“Well, now you do know. I will do anything, everything, to keep you happy and safe and loved. You will always be in my heart, if not by my side.”

Merlin smiles, and the two of them resolutely ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as he whispers his reply:

“As will I. I’ll talk to the Druids, Kilgharrah, Thornway, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out some magical way to communicate.”

Arthur just smiles and nods, taking Merlin’s hands in his own once more:

“Ready to head to sleep? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, glancing to the thrones before walking towards the door, keeping Arthur’s hand securely in his:

“Yeah. Though unless we sneak past the others I doubt we’ll get to sleep for a while. Morgana’s been speaking to me in my head and teasing me for weeks and my mum keeps hinting at how politically beneficial a marriage between the kingdoms would be.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to hide his snort, but nods in agreement and squeezes Merlin’s hand, following him out into the star-lit evening with a newfound enthusiasm to see what the future will bring.

~

THE END OF PART 2!!!

I think I’ll write one more reeeaally short part, a ten years later sort of thing, just because I have a few more ideas about this, but no real huge plot points, just cute little things I want to add in but haven’t found space for yet.

This took a little longer than I expected to come out, but I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

(and yes, I may have taken a little inspiration from The Hobbit movies, sue me (pls don’t, I’m kidding))

[stellocchia]

So, I once made a post about c!Tommy and c!Dream’s relationship throughout season 1 (which you can find here), but today I was thinking, why not do the same for the Exile Arc?

There are some people that still don’t seem to have a comprehensive idea of what actually went down during that time (either because they joined the fandom afterwards or haven’t watched it at the time) so I’ll try to do that here. I’ll cover the first 2 streams here, and then continue in the next part because this is gonna be way too damn long otherwise...

As always I’ll be talking only about the characters and the roleplay from here on out and also I’ll be touching on some very heavy topics under the cut (such as gaslighting and abuse). Also this is gonna be another one of my Overly Long Analysis, so... you know... be warned of that.

I’ll be going through this vod by vod, so It will be so long... God why do I always do this to myself?

Let’s start with TommyInnit Is Exiled From The Dream SMP... which is the vod when Tommy actually get’s exiled.

So, the exile scene per se has been covered a 100 times over, but, right after Tubbo asking Dream to “please detain and excort Tommy out of my country” Dream yeets Tommy off the walls and then he immediately establishes the general idea of how it’ll be in exile: “I don’t think you wanna die Tommy. You need to- to listen to me”.

Also it is to be noted that in this “exile” time and time again Dream establishes arbitrary rules that were most certanly not meant in the initial sentence (which is why it’s much more of a kidnapping then an actual exile). Starting from before they even leave L’Manburg completely. In fact when they are still in the vc with the others and still just down from the obsidian walls, Tommy and Dream have this exchange:

“Do I have any time to speak words? What can...” “NO. NO. NO. NO!” “what the...” 

And then right after (just after leaving the vc):

“Do you have food?” “Yeah...” “Good, we’ll be going a long while still” “Am I not allowed- well surely- surely I’m only exiled from L’Manburg-” “Oh, no no no. You’re exiled from everywhere that��s been touched”

The sentence was only for him to be exiled from L’Manburg. Dream theoretically only had authority over the Greater Dream smp in any case, so how come immediately Tommy’s “sentence” becomes being exiled from “everywhere that has been touched”? What authority did Dream have to exile him from the Badlands? Or the Holy Grounds (considering those are widely considered neutral)?

This is from right after Ghostbur joins them:

“Well, I don’t- I don’t have to come with you” “Well, I mean, I’ll kill you” (...) "I don’t have to follow you! I don’t-” “Tommy! Then I’ll just kill you. What happens if I kill you?” “I die...”

Again, technically Tubbo only asked Dream to escort Tommy out of his country, not all the way to his place of exile. Tommy here is right, he is exiled, he is not supposed to have a jailor going with him, he is not supposed to be imprisoned. All he supposedly had to do was get off the lands he wasn’t allowed into and then he’d be good. Of course Dream’s plans were different there.

Also the trend of constantly undermining anything Tommy is feeling at any given moment sure doesn’t stop with the Exile Arc! 

“No, no! I don’t want to head anywhere! I wanna to go back! I wanna go back!” “Fine fine, we’ll head this way then. It’s fine, this is fine” “I don’t wanna go!” “Tommy come on...”

Honorable mention to Dream talking about the first time he exiled Tommy:

“Do you remember- this is actually funny! Do you remember the first time you ever joined the server? And uhm... you got exiled? By me?” “Yeah?” “It’s kinda like that, except now if you don’t listen you die”

And the conditioning begins all the way here, with Dream trying to decide Tommy’s emotions for him:

“Oh... I hate you” “*laughs* Okay Tommy, you don’t hate me” “No, no I definitely do” “Noooo, you don’t hate me”

Cue Dream just blowing up Tommy’s second Summer Home after he explained that it was supposed to be a safe haven for him and Tubbo. Also note that Dream is already getting rid of any mob attacking Tommy even if at this point he still had armour and weapons to defend himself. I talked about this before, but Dream does seem to want Tommy to be as dependent on him as he is on Tommy, which is why during exile he made him dependent on him for protection/safety and company and in prison for food. Also Ghostbur going: “I don’t think this man is very nice...”, thank you Ghostbur, I wish you could remember that, but you’re trying your best and I appreciate it...

“How long is- how long am I exiled for? When can I just go back?” “You can’t (...) if you go back you die”

Again, not Dream’s decision to make. Tubbo was the one exiling Tommy meaning that, if Tubbo actually had the decision power in that istance, Tubbo was the one who should have decided when he could come back. Also, again reiterating the point from before:

“I thought I was only banished from L’Manburg, that was the deal, not the entirety of the smp-” “Oh no. No you’re banished far enough where they don’t see you”

Also, a little look into Tommy’s mentality here:

“Tubbo said he wasn’t thinking with emotion, but with reason, but: what the fuck is the point if there isn’t any- any emotion?!”

This is honestly why he is Dream’s exact opposite and probably why he finds him fun, while Tubbo is irrelevant to him. Tommy thinks emotions should always be taken into account when making decisions and he values sentimentality over everything. Dream is the opposite, to him emotions are irrelevant and sentimentality is a weakness. Tubbo is a bit of both, which makes his clash of ideologies with Dream a lot less evident. 

Anyway, they get to the island and Dream builds Tommy a dirt shack for him to set his spawn into. And then there is the first istance of Dream taking all of Tommy’s stuff (building blocks and food included) and blowing it up. Which, again, is in no way an actual exile condition. Tommy is in jail basically. He got kidnapped and now he is in jail. Also right after that Dream gives them food and obsidian (of course acting like he is doing them a big favour, when he actually just created that need), which Tommy bromptly refuses, later burning the obsidian.

Also Dream’s parting words here are: “I’ll see you never”. Which couldn’t be less true! There is quite a bit more after that, of Tommy and Ghostbur settling in, finding a ruined portal with some armour and the village nearby and Techno visiting, but this is about c!Dream and c!Tommy and it’s already incredibly long as is, so maybe I’ll talk about everything else another time...

Onto the next one: Tommy Is Alone in Exile with Dream...

This stream starts off with Bad visiting Tommy to give him a few presents (which consist of Chirp, 2 diamonds, an enderchest, and almost dead diamond pick with silk touch, some coocked chicken some bones and a few stacks of oak wood logs). Also Tommy sees Logsteshire for the first time. Then Dream arrives and he is not happy about the present (something something, having other people giving Tommy useful stuff would make him less reliant on Dream). Also Bad seems to be slightly scared of Dream since he immediately tells Tommy that he should not say that any of the stuff he gave him was from him. Anyway, Dream destroys everything, but Tommy, with Bad’s help, manages to save Chirp. Here’s their exchange in this scene of course:

“Tommy?” “Yes! Yes?!” “Do you have uh... something you wanna put on the floor here?” “Yes *throws in 3 red concrete blocks*” “Anything else Tommy?” “No! You’re evil by the way, you’re an evil man-” “Come on... I know there is something else you wanna drop down here...” “No there-... *gives disk to Bad* I don’t reckon there is!” “Okay are you sure...?” “Yes!” “Alright... how about uh- how about your armour Tommy?” “No this is- I actually earned this myself” “I know you did! Just drop it in the hole Tommy” “No, no! You can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit! What- what do you mean-” “Tommy~” “What?” *Dream hits Tommy with an enchanted netherite axe* “Drop them down~” “Hooooo okay okay okay!”

So, in case anyone was wondering, physical abuse is there as well. And this is fully depicted as physical abuse. Like, normally, with this being Minecraft, it is implied that violence is generally inconsequential, here though c!Tommy reacts to it clearly in pain and shock. There is no doubt there. 

Sapnap arrives at this point as well. After that Dream makes it a point that Tommy cannot have the enderchast that Bad gave him because you can never have enough random arbitrary rules when kidnapping someone apparently! 

“Why are you here? Why are you here? What- what could you- what could you possibly want more from me? You’ve tortured me-” “I’m just! I’m just... keeping an eye on you Tommy” 

I’ve highlighted this because, considering the last time Dream was there he said he would never see Tommy again, Tommy’s confusion here is more then understandable. But of course Dream acts like it’s obvious that he would be there and that it’s necessary to make sure that Tommy is not “up to no good”. Also, another extremely important exchange: 

“You’ve exiled me you stupid manipulative green bastard!” “Yeah I know! I know! And you know why I did that” “Yes? Yes?” “No, you know why” “Why?” “Because you don’t listen to me ever. You’re the only person who doesn’t ever listen to me (...) listen, you are like a little annoying bug in my room and it pisses me off so I take you and I put you outside and that’s what I did. And now I’m just making sure that you stay outside”

So... the bullshit about this being about George’s house is out of the window by the first proper exile stream. Also Dream goes in the ever increasing list of villains who, if annoyed enough, will reveal all their evil plans to the protagonist. Like Tommy screaches enough and Dream will immediately go in evil monologuing mode...

“So what do you actually want from me then?” “Well nothing, I’m just here to talk to you. Tommy, we’re still friends ok? Just because I exiled you doesn’t mean we’re not friends-” “Just because I killed your friends and family doesn’t mean we can’t be bros...” “Well, it’s true!”

Ok so, it’s confirmed that Dream would still go on with this “friendship” facade even if he killed Tubbo or Wilbur then. Also:

*Tommy sees a creeper* then in the most monotone tone ever: “Help me” Dream sprinting from the other side of the cave: “TOMMY!”. I love this scene and I love this two dumbasses (and I mean the cc’s here). Also, to go back to the serious stuff: once again Dream is the one killing every single mob around Tommy because he blew up all his means for defence. Also Bad and Sapnap are still there as well, but Dream is always the on interveening (mostly because he is the one following Tommy around more closely). I’ll have a few of the more interesting quotes here afterwards until the next interesting scene:

“If I had 8 legs I would fuck you all up” “Oooh, no you wouldn’t” (Dream de-valuing Tommy’s anger once again)

“Stop following me” “NO” “Well okay then...” (honestly this was just funny...)

“Can I call you Wilbur? Or is it Ghostbur...?” “You can call me whatever you like” (for those saying that Ghostbur not correcting Tommy was weird)

“Alright Wilbur, what do you need an enderchest for? I might make an exception but-” “We- we need it so that we can access our stuff from the old world, the old world” “But not to go back” “How would we be able to go back with an enderchest?” “Well I don’t know maybe there is stuff in there that’s... better” “Tommy do you have anything that could get you to go back? In the enderchest?” “A boat? What’d you mean?” “Yeah to be honest we just need wood to get back, it’s not really-” 

Here we have Ghostbur poking holes in one of the new rules that Dream added that day. As a matter of fact, why would an enderchest be dangerous? Tommy mostly keeps sentimental stuff in there and a bit of iron. Still that’s the whole point: Dream is trying to get Tommy under his control so he needs to bring him to a point where he’ll listen to his orders even when they don’t make any actual sense. Also, btw, Dream doesn’t actually give them an enderchest after this exchange.

“Do you want to come with me Tommy? Do you want to come with me and visit the old library?” “No no no” “Yes! Yes please!” “No he wants to stay here with me” “I don’t. I definitely don’t” “He does! He’s just trying to be nice to you Wilbur. He’s trying to be nice to you” “I’m not Wilbur, I want to come with you” (way to gaslight an amnesiac ghost...)

“So how long is Tommy supposed to be here?” “Like a week?” “Oh, a week is not bad!” “*laughing* No he’s here forever” (Like goddamn, imagine if every minor griefing was punished with permanent exile!)

“M-maybe like- does Tommy gets like visitations? Like once every month he get’s to go to L’Manburg-” “No! No no no” “No visitation, huh?” “No visitation” (well, let’s thank Sapnap for trying...)

So, after this Tommy gets his plan to go through the Nether and find a quick way to and from L’Manburg to, perhaps, sneak in unnoticed at some points. Dream “allows” him here to go to the Nether (even though technically there is no reason why the exile would extend to there as well), so they get to work on fixing a ruined portal. “Did you know, I apparently blew up a nation and killed everyone” (thank God we have Ghostbur, he makes everything better). One thing I want to note though: at this point Tommy still kills the mobs attacking him when Dream is not stalking him and doing it for him, which is kind of nice. We are still at the first exile stream though...

“Can I go back for like an hour and see all my friends?” “No, they can come here though. I-I mean Tommy, I think- I think that someone could come here and visit you, but you can’t ever go back. Like I-I don’t have anything against people coming here and visiting you if they want to. They don’t HAVE to, but they can if they really want to” “Tommy think of it this way: whenever you’re in prison you can’t just go and visit your friends, but they can come and visit you” “They can come and visit you, yeah, that’s actually a very- that’s a perfect analogy”

I wonder why the best analogy for Tommy’s situation is not a f*cking exile analogy, but actual prison. Maybe because he is confined to one place, not allowed to keep any personal items and never allowed to go back? Also they actually get to Nether hub at this point and there is the famous scene with Tommy looking at the lava: 

A curious thing about this scene (aside from being a clear indication of the beginning of Tommy’s depressive spiral) is both that Dream didn’t seem to particularly care about Tommy dying up until now (and in the future as well) as long as he is the one to kill him. Meaning that he seemed fine with it as long as he had control over it. And yet at the end there he agrees with Tommy’s statement of “it’s never my time to die” which kinda makes me think that Dream by this point was already entirely set on his idea of Tommy needing to be alive for Dream to control the whole server. Tommy and Dream head back to Logstedshire after this scene.

*Tommy looks at the lava while standing very close to the edge* “I’ll go back through just to... check and see” *Dream hits Tommy away from the edge* “Come on” *Tommy goes back to the edge and Dream pushes him away again, this time covering the hole* “It’s not your time to die yet Tommy” “It’s never my time to die” “That’s true” 

“Home sweet home...” “Home sweet home. I think it’ll be good! People might visit you all the time, I mean, I can visit you! It’s- it’s actually fun to come here! It’s a little bit- it’s a change of scenery, you know?” “It’s not fun to be stuck here” “Well... you’re not ’stuck’ it’s your vacation home!” “Can I go back? I’m ready...” “No but you can leave this area, you can go somewhere else. This is just- like, I took you far away, you can go further if you want”

So, if anyone is wondering, this is not, in fact, Dream giving Tommy more freedom. Especially considering that when Tommy does leave Logstedshire later on Dream literally hunts him down, so no, that was never an option. What Dream is doing here is make himself sound benevolent by comparison by telling Tommy that the only other options he has are worse since they are even further away.

“I’m here for a good time, not for a long time” (more hints towards Tommy’s depressive spiral)

“Guys how do you know when it’s too much?” (and again)

“Can I go and see the tree?” “Tommy, you can’t go and see the tree” “Dream why don’t you let him just- it’s not in L’Manburg! Why don’t you let him just see the tree and then escort him back?” 

Ghostbur my beloved, pointing out holes in Dream’s rules all the time. Something tells me that’s the reason why Dream tried to kill him later on...

Anyway! This concludes this first post because it’s... Oh fuck this is REALLY long.... welp! I’ll make the others in the next few days! 

[the-tiniest-one]

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

[byulsgrease]

if you arent too busy, can you write a idol!hwasa x idol!reader, wherein they both have to practice with each other for a special stage. However on the first meeting they become starstruck and cant believe somethings are real, but soon warm up to each other?

i'm not terribly busy but this still took a while anyway oops - sorry this took so long anon! here you go :D

if anyone has requests for the other members hmu cuz I've got 2 more hyejin reqs after this one (not that I'm complaining)

"who says we can't do something on our own?"

(hwasa x idol!reader, ~1.2k words)

cw: food + alcohol mention (y'all know how it is)

I named someone Minjeong - it's not Aespa's Winter, idk anything about 4th gen gg's - 민정 is my Korean name so it's just what came to mind

"Hey, wake up. You've gotta see this. GET UP," a voice piercing through the fog of your sleep.

What a rude awakening. Your shoulders being shaken vigorously by a pair of small hands meant they belonged to none other than Minjeong, your youngest group member. You rolled over to glare menacingly at her with one eye open, trying to pull your brain out of the slumber. All you could see was the bright light of her phone shining in your eyes - a video of some kind. But then you heard the audio:

"Have you seen the clip?" asked the interviewer.

"Yes, my members and many MooMoos made sure I saw it"— Moos? Oh, it's Hwasa. WAIT. Both your eyes flew open as you sat up and snatched Jeongie's phone out of her hand to stare at the video. Your mind immediately flashed back to the interview you did last week - they asked who you most wanted to collaborate with, if there were no limitations. Your ears started to heat up at the sheer thought of the flustered mess of an answer you gave - of course you said Hwasa. Both of you debuted relatively close to each other, within a year, but never interacted much over the years. Mamamoo as a group was a force to be reckoned with, but there was just something about Hwasa specifically. You mostly just admired her unique singing voice and undeniable stage presence, and her relentless drive to always be herself in an industry constantly trying to fit women into a box.

Finally snapping out of re-living that embarrassment, your attention turned back to the phone in your hand. The interviewer must've asked her to send a message in response to you, because you couldn't believe that she was waving and saying, "How haven't we gotten to know each other better over all these years? I'd love to work with you on something sometime," curtly dipping her head in a slight bow.

"SEE? You needed to see that," Minjeong rushed to say, full of energy. "And close your mouth, your jaw's on the floor," jokingly pointing.

You side-eyed her and shut your mouth. "Is this what Loco felt like when she called him during Hyena on the Keyboard?" you wondered aloud.

"At least she's not calling you while on camera," she commented, knowing full well that you'd probably embarrass yourself again if she did. "But hey, at least she noticed you! Can I have my phone back now?" It would be a dream come true to collaborate with her, but cross-company collabs... always a pain. that couldn't be helped. The fantasy abruptly ended with demands from your rumbling stomach. Done with your what-if's, you placed the phone back in your maknae's outstretched hand to get up and make breakfast.

~~~~

With award show season rolling around, the crazy scramble of rehearsing for special live stages without leaking sets and collabs began. Checking your email that morning showed a schedule to record the backing track for a special live stage, but that was it. With who? You texted your members a screenshot, but they all told you that block of time in their schedule was empty. A solo stage? The solo mini-album you released this cycle did relatively well, the title track got a music show win, but not a multi-week chart-topper by any means. Possibilities turning over in your mind, you stepped out from your place to head to the company, totally in the dark about what was in store.

The recording studio always smelled the same along with the couches, a comfort for all the insanely long nights and crack-of-dawn early mornings over the years. With a bit of time to kill, you plopped down on one and gingerly patted the worn cushions as some kind of symbolic thank-you for supporting you (literally).

A hesitant but loud knock sent your gaze directly to the door. Watching it slowly open, you leaned forward to see who it was. Needless to say, your jaw fell to the floor again as you clapped a hand over your gaping mouth, eyes widening. Like a soldier obeying a command, you immediately stood up as straight as possible and bowed profusely at Hwasa, sporting a very similar expression on her face (which you failed to notice, your mind running a million miles a minute).

After a series of frantic bows and miscellaneous utterances to each other, she spoke. "It's nice to finally meet you," she said with calm, surveying your frenzied state. "I guess we're granting that collab wish from your interview, huh?"

The red-hot embarrassment leapt to your face. "I...I definitely made a fool of myself answering that question. And our maknae showed me your interview clip too, which was cool, but never did I think it would actually happen," you stammered. I should probably stop talking.

"Well, here I am," she half-smiled coolly. "Let's get started, I'm really looking forward to finally work with you on this," a gleam in her eye and a hint of excitement in her voice.

The studio suddenly felt a lot smaller with her in it, despite there only being your managers, the producer, and the both of you - less people than you and your members alone. Both of you remained relatively quiet the whole time, rather unsure of what to say or talk about. You watched enough MMMTV to know that all the members on their own were shyer than together, and Hwasa knew the same was true for you. But the work basically took care of itself, seamlessly taking turns in the recording booth, witnessing each other's work style and process. The both of you knew your way in front of a mic, seasoned professionals by now. Upon wrapping up, you bowed politely to each other after a quick exchange of KaTalk info, a short and sweet goodbye.

That was... anticlimactic. I mean, it's finally happening - I can't believe it. But maybe I was too idealistic about maybe creating a meaningful relationship with her outside of work... What does she think of me?

~~~~

In the days leading up to the collab stage, you kept going back and forth on whether to reach out or not, despite now being in possession of her contact info. What would you even say? Thoughts of a witty one-liner or relatable meme came to mind, but maybe she'd assume the worst - that you were clout-chasing, or something. Anxieties abuzz, your phone vibrated in your pocket. The KaTalk notification sprawled across your screen. Speak of the devil, it's her.

"Hey, awards season has me stressed. I know you must pretty busy right now too, but I somehow get off early tomorrow if you wanna grab dinner after work?" You had to reread that one. Oh, what? She's inviting me?

Trying not to be weird about responding too quickly, you typed out, "Wow, yeah, that sounds great! ^^ wait, your company doesn't care about you going out to eat during award season?"

"nah, they stopped having that kind of control over us a while ago, we are the money-maker of the company, after all 😏"

"so I guess this means they don't check your phone either ㅋㅋㅋ"

"nope :)"

You proceeded to set a time and place to meet, someplace with meat.

In the process of feasting on an inordinate amount of gopchang imbued with a splash of beer, you learned a fair amount about each other. You talked career, professional aspirations, the weird habits of your members, and more. What surprised you most was the amount of things she already knew about you, having admitted to watching some of your behind-the-scenes content after seeing your interview clip.

"Ah... I'm sorry if I came across as distant during that first recording session," she confessed, pausing to sip her beer. "I honestly didn't know what to do with myself, I felt a little star-struck."

"Oh what?? I felt the exact same, so no worries - and sorry if I came off similarly distant," you rambled back. A bit of silence fell between you, acknowledging the mutual sentiment. You spoke up after a bit, "Thanks for inviting me out tonight, I didn't realize how much I needed this."

"Thank you for making the time, I had fun getting to know you better," she articulated with a smile. "Maybe it'll make the collab stage better," she added on jokingly. You responded with a nod and expression of mutual affirmation.

~~~~

After that, messaging each other became a regular occurrence, that gopchang outing having broken the ice. Honestly, you tried your best to talk about anything besides work, but the baseline of shared understanding connected you in a way that came more naturally than it did with your non idol friends.

You stood across the way from her at the sound check for the final stage, dressed in joggers and slides. Funny to think that you'd be recording this for real in a couple hours, making eyes with the blinking red light on the cameras surrounding you. It sucks that fans wouldn't get to experience the energy and atmosphere of the performance - Hyejin alone is one thing, but adding someone else into her stage presence? Unmatched. There's nothing quite like a live performance - and while you knew everyone in the industry dealt with the consequences of the pandemic, it certainly took a toll to perform and not feel the energy from fans. But realistically, nothing you could do about it. The sound check went over smooth like butter. The stage chemistry came flowing naturally between you both, even when bare-faced and dressed in just sweats.

And when the time came for the actual filming, you both absolutely killed it, an upbeat mash-up of TWIT and your title track. At the very end came a sliver of hesitation before throwing your arms around each other with a big smile for the ending fairy, proud of the work you accomplished together, and a mental fist-pump to yourself for making friends with one of the industry's finest.

Once again walking to a restaurant that served mostly meat to celebrate, you playfully proposed, "We... should do that again sometime." A little puff of air came out her nose in amusement.

"Yeah, we should. Too bad we're gonna have to wait a whole cycle before we can release anything else together again," she sighed longingly.

"Who says we can't do something on our own?"

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 13:

Gif credit: @hqtchner

A/N: I toyed with several ideas for this one, but I wanted the reader to be strong in her own right which is why this takes the direction it does.

Warnings: Strong depictions of violence, assault, blood, vomiting. Graphic injury, choking, gun violence.

———

“What you remember saves you.” - W.S Merwin

———

“You don’t like what I’ve done with the place?” 

“Jordan.” You breathe. “What did you do?” 

His jaw sets. His expression goes from glee to fury and he’s next to you in a flash, nose to nose, dragging your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. A wince escapes your mouth when the pulling sends a sting up your scalp. 

“What do you mean, what did I do? Isn’t it obvious?” He sneers, punctuating his words with another pull of your hair. 

You cry out in pain, your neck straining. The rabid look in his eyes and his bared teeth send shivers down your spine.

He continues, “I made sure you were going to stay all...mine.” He whispers, releasing his grip, smoothing the top of your head. “Isn’t it sweet? I did it all so I could have you all to myself… and instead of thanking me, you’re acting like you’re above me. Like you always do. Maybe I need to teach you how to be grateful-” 

“I’ll be grateful.” You offer in a quick breath. “I mean- I am. I am grateful. I was just so…” You swallow thickly, tearing your eyes away from the pictures, “Surprised that you did all this. For me.” You fight the tears pricking your eyes. 

“You mean that?” 

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. “Yes. I do.” 

“Good. Y’know all I ever wanted was us to be together? When you broke up with me, I admit, I was angry. I thought you were fucking somebody else.” He paces the length of the room and that’s when your gaze falls to the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “But I realised you couldn’t possibly.”

You brace yourself when his gaze falls to his handiwork on the walls. 

“But then…” He inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you with him.” His volume rises steadily. “I send you gifts, I send you letters, I give you clues, I even draw blood for you and you repay me by parading around another man?!” 

You cry out when he delivers a blow to the left side of your face, a crack resounding in the room. Your skin blisters red hot where he strikes you, you swear he’s torn open some skin on your cheek. It sends your head spinning, you figure you’re already nursing a concussion, this just makes it worse. 

“That’s not-”

“Don’t you interrupt me.” He spits, his face close enough for you to smell the bourbon on his breath. “You had him come to my house today, try to scare me? He thinks he’s a big powerful man, FBI… that badge doesn’t mean shit, he doesn’t know who I am.” 

“Jordan-”

“What was it about him anyway? You could’ve had me, you know, we could’ve been a dynasty.” He’s grandstanding. Always did have a problem with his fragile ego. He turns his back to you, scanning the pictures on the wall. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’m having it taken care of.” He mutters.

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, you couldn’t possible have thought that I’d let him live?” 

Your heart skips. The ‘other guy’ that was to be taken care of - Hotch.

“Jordan, no. It wasn’t like that, I swear.” He turns slowly, rage behind his eyes that’s only thinly veiled by a psychotic smile. “There’s nothing between us! Please don’t do this. I’m begging you, don’t do this.” You plead.

“Why do you care?”

“-What?”

“Why… do you… care?” His eyes are fanatical, nostrils flared. “If nothing happened between you, why do you care what happens to him?” 

You know why now.

“Because I don’t want anyone to die! Him, Emily, anybody! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You stutter through your sobs. “Please don’t do this.” 

“You don’t want him to die? How stupid do you think I am?” He grabs the back of your head and directs you to a picture of you and Hotch on the gazebo - the day you’d met. “You look at him like that because he’s a friend?” He spits. 

He’s right, though - that’s the thing. 

You don’t know how you didn’t realise sooner, how you didn’t see it sooner. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t see your own face when you were around him, but the way you look at him, your smile. 

You don’t think you’ve looked at anybody like that before. 

Tears roll down your cheeks now, eyes welling over. 

He smooths over your hair, straightening out his own shirt. “I will make it quick though. Humane. I owe him that much.” 

“What?” 

“I owe him. How do you think you got here?” When you can’t formulate the words he continues, “Hm, let me spell it out for you.” He continues his rapid pacing, fingers compulsively scratching his neck. “We break up, you betray me, so I leave the country. I come back, try to get you back, you betray me, again. FBI man comes into the picture, his girlfriend feels neglected, said girlfriend then conveniently runs into me at a bar after an argument, confides in me and starts sleeping with me. She’s a real peach, though. Total Type-A, wouldn’t let me fuck her raw.” He adds, rolling his eyes. 

You feel nauseous. 

You wonder if Hotch knows. 

He goes on, “I fuck her, she tells me everything I want to know. Including the fact that she thought he was cheating on her.” He laughs bitterly. “I thought we might have had something when you called me a few months ago, remember that? That was a good time.” Your stomach turns when you think back to the worst mistake you’d ever made. “But then you stopped taking my calls, I put two together from there, figured you were fucking him. I knew then that he had to die.” He rolls his eyes. 

His smile reveals a row of eerily straight teeth but there’s nothing behind his eyes except a sick kind of glee. 

“It wasn’t like that, I swear to you, he never touched me.” You plead with him, desperately. You reckon with the fact that if you couldn’t regain control of this situation, Hotch would die. “Look, I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

“I swear. Anything. Just call it off, please.” He considers your statement for a moment, kneeling down between your knees again. He makes a point to flash you his gun, the silver glinting, before reaching for a switchblade that’s tucked into his back pocket. You flinch when he brings it purposely closer to you but he cuts you free. 

“I’m going to test you. Stay here with me. You run, I kill him.” He lays the knife flat against your bruised cheek, “Then I kill you.” He whispers. You wince when the sharp edge breaks a thin layer of skin and you feel a warm trail of blood on your cheek. 

You nod desperately, agreeing. “I swear. I’ll do anything, just call it off.” 

Just as he finishes cutting you free, his phone vibrates against the wooden table under the window. He excuses himself, face lighting up for a moment. You try your best to hear, but the voice on the other end is indistinguishable. 

Jordan’s responses are short. 

“Fitz.”

“Hello?” He presses the phone closer to his ear. “Lawrence? It’s done?” He smiles at the response from the other side. 

“30 minutes.” He hangs up and rattles off a quick text message before setting the phone down again. 

He sighs, concealing his unhinged glee when he turns to look at you. “Bad news babe.” He says tutting, knowingly with a disturbing smile. “I know I said I’d call it off but,” he waves the phone in the air, “it’s already done. Your friend, Aaron?”

Oh please, no. Don’t say it. 

“He’s dead.” 

———

Once the first bang reverberates in the nurses’ station, time seems to move in slow motion. McCall yells for everybody to get down, cocking his gun. Panic erupts for a moment before everybody falls to the ground, the first shot already fired. 

Where it comes from, who fires first, it isn’t clear, the whole thing in reality is over in a matter of seconds but time still seems to stop. 

Now, McCall kneels over a dead body, hyper-aware of eyes on him, “He’s gone.” He whispers. 

A hand grips his shoulder from behind as he stares down at the corpse in front of him laying in a pool of blood, three bullet holes in the chest. 

His ears still ring. 

“Hey. Emily’s fine. I had two cops posted outside her door.” He turns to find Hotch, who can’t tear his eyes away from Officer Lawrence’s dead body in front of them. 

They’re about to let medical personnel clear out the area and wheel him away in a body bag when Hotch spots something in Lawrence’s scrub pockets. 

“Wait! Hold it a sec?” He asks, retrieving a piece of paper and cellphone from Lawrence. They make their way back to Emily’s hospital room in unison.

McCall looks at him, puzzled. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“That was the first person you ever shot, right? He’s dead. You’re allowed to not be okay.” 

“I’m fine - I need to focus. I need to get her back.” He’d be lying if he said his hands weren’t trembling but he has more pressing matters on his hand. The need to get you back safe and sound outweighs any personal conflict for him. He unfolds the piece of paper, muttering aloud a series of numbers. “It’s a phone number. What’d you wanna bet it’s Jordan?” He does a double take when he sees his own name written in capital letters on the other side of the paper, passing it to McCall. 

“Some vendetta, hm? He was sent to kill you.” McCall takes the phone from Hotch and starts to dial when Hotch places a stalling arm on his. 

“Wait.”

He dials Garcia’s number deftly, asks her to search for a location on the number before they call it, but to his disappointment, it’s a prepaid. He then has Garcia set up a track and trace before he lets McCall dial the number.

“Ready, Garcia?” 

The phone rings three times before it’s answered, Jordan’s voice curt and straight to the point, assuming it’s Lawrence. Hotch can hear Garcia’s typing and beeping but when McCall doesn’t say anything, Jordan takes matters into his own hands. 

“It’s done?” Jordan asks outright. 

“Yes.” McCall replies with little inflection, keeping his voice even so as to not arouse suspicion. Jordan gives McCall a time - 30 minutes, before snapping the phone shut. 

McCall tries the number again, but it’s dead. Destroyed. 

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asks desperately. 

“No, sir, it was barely long enough to triangulate the call, I’m sorry.” 

“Keep searching, Garcia, we need this address. Look for something in isolation, out of the way. It’s gotta mean something to him.”

“Yes, sir. Typing as we speak.”

Hotch rubs an exasperated hand over his beard, “Y’know the media can’t get wind of this, if he has access to a TV or radio and sees I’m alive? He’ll kill her.” He shudders as the words leave his mouth, making way for the possibility that he does not want to reckon with. 

You might already be dead. 

He dials quickly “Chief Barnes? I need a favour.”

———

He’s been pacing the length of Emily’s hospital room for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Chief Barnes to call in every favour he can to keep the media at bay so they can keep up the charade. He increases the TV volume opposite Emily’s bed when he sees a news report flash across the scene. 

“Good evening, everybody. We come to you live tonight with some breaking news.” 

He braces himself. Did Barnes manage to cover the hit on him?

“The daughters of two US Ambassadors have reportedly been involved in what appears to be a multi-car collision in the Virginia countryside, earlier tonight.” 

Two pictures appear side by side of you and Emily. 

“The daughter of Ambassador Prentiss was rushed to hospital earlier tonight and remains in critical condition at Bridgepoint Hospital after sustaining multiple injuries. The daughter of the US Ambassador to France however, is reported to be missing. The Ambassador himself is reportedly unaware of his daughter’s condition, presumed to be en-route to Paris tonight. Three people were pronounced dead at the scene, including Metro PD officers Evan Matthews and Howard Denton.”

He waits anxiously for any mention of his own name or Jordan, Lawrence, but the anchor passes over to the correspondent.

He sighs in relief, just as his phone rings. 

“Garcia?”

“I think I finally have a location on Fitzgerald. I checked for any and all properties under Senator Fitzgerald’s name, his second and third wives, his spawn’s name, even the Fitzgerald Family Trust. Nada.” She pauses for breath. “So. I dug down deeper. I searched instead for any properties under Sloan Marie Fitzgerald - still nothing. But then I chanced a search under her maiden name, Hamilton, and wouldn’t you know - the Hamilton family had a cabin between Rock Creek Park and Montgomery County. The late Mrs. Fitzgerald would take him to said cabin most summers before she died.”

“Alright, good work. Send us-”

“I'm not even going to let you finish that sentence, because it’s quite frankly insulting. Coordinates are on their way to you now, Sirs.”

Hotch huffs a laugh, it’s the most he can muster right now. He knows he owes Garcia a massive bouquet of flowers after all this is over. 

He grabs McCall by his jacket. “Suit up. We’ve got an address.” 

———

‘He’s dead.’ 

The onset of shock and unmistakable rise of nausea had caused you to retch violently and empty the contents of your stomach into the nearest toilet. 

Your legs had given out then, and you’re now planted on a dusty armchair, finding yourself staring into nothingness, your body still stinging with the shock and injuries you’d sustained. 

It’s all you’ve done for the past fourty something minutes. The blood stays rushing in your ears, and the pounding in your head is unrelenting. You haven’t said a word since, your body’s energy drained. You’re almost catatonic, unable to even shed a few tears for Hotch’s death. 

He’s dead. He’s dead because of you. 

You think back to the first time you met, he’d been so bright eyed and optimistic. Disarming. You think about the way he’d told you about his hopes and dreams, his plans for the future as a profiler. He’d had so much to live for. All of that had been ripped away from him because he’d gotten involved in your case. It was your fault he was dead. 

And you didn’t know how you were going to make it out of this. Your limbs feel like concrete - fatigue, shock and grief make it hard to formulate any kind of rational thought. Jordan’s hand comes to smooth the top of your head once again, but the gesture is far from comforting or loving. 

“It’s okay. You’ll see in time, this was for the best. This way, there aren’t any distractions.” He whispers. He’s been pacing the length of the cabin, repeatedly checking his second burner as though he’s awaiting some news. 

He resumes his pacing when you finally break your silence, your voice hoarse. 

“You killed a man.” You whisper. 

“What’s that?” 

“You killed a man.” You sob quietly. “You had someone killed, that doesn’t mean anything to you?” 

“Oh I did more than just have your little lover killed. I made sure your father and that Prentiss bitch were taken care of too.” 

Your vision tunnels, a high-pitched whine penetrating your skull. You feel like the ground has just been ripped from under you, like you’re falling. You can feel your heart shatter, the splintering fragments of your life piercing your skin. 

“My father? He’s not here. He’s-”

He glances at his watch. “-On his way to Paris?” You feel the bile rising again. “I know. Like I said, I’m having it all taken care of. They’re all dead, babe - or will be, soon.” He brings a hand to your face, brushing his thumb over your cut. “Don’t you see? I did it so I could have you all to myself.” 

The glee in his voice provokes something in you, a rage you’ve never felt before. You figure you have nothing else to lose, everything and everyone you ever loved is dead, you’d either fight and die quicker, or you’d stay and die slowly. 

In a move that stuns even you, you spit on Jordan’s face and bring your hand up to strike him notwithstanding the piercing pain in your ribs. The flat of your palm makes sharp contact with his bearded cheek. The sound echoes in the room, and your own hand stings from the force, but a minute satisfaction settles into your bones. 

He takes a minute to steady himself, but when he turns to look at you, his eyes flash with something you’ve never seen in a person before. In one fell swoop, he drags you to stand by your hair, pushing you into a glass frame against the wall. 

The glass shatters, puncturing the skin on your cheek and forearm where you bear the brunt of the impact. He lands two blows to your stomach, causing you to keel over, winding you. The pain blooms to your already bruised ribs, your breaths ragged. He grabs you then by the throat, pinning you against the wall, your breaths coming short and constricted. 

He shakes you against the wall, his hand tight around your throat, cutting off your air. “You ever pull something like that again, I’ll kill you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.” He growls in a low voice. “Do you understand me?” You can feel the blood pumping in your face, your eyes starting to bulge. 

You drive your knee into his crotch with all the force you can muster, exactly like Hotch had taught you. You then go for his shin that only gives you mere seconds to grab your breath when he lets you go in pain. 

You fall with him, knees giving out when you gasp for breath, and when you see him charging towards you again, you reach to your right for a dusty glass vase that sits on a single table. You manage to get yourself back on your feet right as he’s about to make contact with you again, the butt of the vase smashing into his skull. 

He cries out in pain as he falls to the ground again on all fours, blood streaming down his face. A gash on his forehead seeps blood and several pieces of glass are embedded in his face. 

You’re still trying to catch your own breath when you spot the silver glint of his 9mm catch the light in his back pocket. 

This is your chance.

You half-crawl, half-run to him, landing a violent kick to his stomach to strike him down. You grab the gun from his back pocket, stumbling a little from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your hands trembling. You check the magazine and load it as fast as your hands will allow.

You grip the Beretta just as Hotch had taught you, wrapping your dominant hand around the magazine, your index finger parallel to the chamber. Your other hand wraps around your dominant, as you stand over him.

“Get up.” You snarl. “Get up, NOW!” You order him through your coughs. 

He turns around slowly, slipping twice on his way up, groaning with the exertion. His face mirrors your own, a gash on his lip and forehead, blood streaming down his cheek. 

He chuckles darkly, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that are covered in his blood. “Oh… you think you’re hot shit. You even know how to use that thing? Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

Your body aches feverishly and you swear you could pass out at any minute, vision blurry. You can feel your grip loosening and you’re trying to centre yourself when Jordan takes advantage of your momentary slip. 

He lunges for you in a flash, knife in hand. 

———

“We’re about a mile out, I want sirens and lights off. He can’t know we’re coming.” Hotch says into his radio. He’s watching the road ahead as they get deeper into the woods, the off-road terrain making it hard to keep control of the SUV. 

They’re backed up at rear by three MPD police cars, Chief Fuller’s attempt at making nice with Hotch after their earlier altercation.

He swallows thickly, his mouth like cotton. He knows he can’t afford one wrong move, not here. Not with you. He needs to get you back. He made a promise to Emily. 

He’ll die trying. 

He keeps a firm grip on your chain, rubbing it one last time for steady luck before tucking it into his shirt pocket. 

A clearing of trees reveals another path to them. It leads off into the distance, to a small wooden cabin around 80 feet away. It’s illuminated by amber light emanating from a single window. 

“Alright, guys. Nice and slow, headlights off, we’re gonna dismount now. Everybody out.” He whispers into the comms once they clear another 50 feet. 

Leaves rustle underneath their feet as they stealthily approach the cabin, guns cocked. Hotch has three cops flanking him and McCall brings up the rear, covering the back exit. 

They’re almost at the entrance when a loud bang resounds from inside, and Hotch short circuits, his knuckles white around his glock. 

Inside the cabin, you send Jordan flying with a shot to his shoulder, the smell of gun smoke burning your nostrils. Your hands tremble violently, your mind temporarily blanking - you feel like you’re swimming. Your ears ring from the noise, a high-pitched whine piercing your brain. 

There’s another bang almost immediately after Jordan stumbles backwards but you’re sure you only fired one shot. 

Jordan’s body in front of you is your only focal point, so much so that it’s only when you see McCall and two cops approach him writhing on the floor that you come back into your body. 

You realise the second bang had been them kicking down the front door. Your hands on the Beretta loosen just slightly and you let out a deep exhale. The voices in the room are still swimming as your brain slowly catches up. 

“Grab her.” McCall’s voice calls out. He shouts into the comms that he needs medics, and suddenly there’s a distinct feeling of a hand on your wrist and a body next to you. You reassure yourself that Jordan is on the ground so you let your hands fall limp, dropping the gun and it falls to the ground with a sharp clack. Your eyes are still trained on McCall pressing on Jordan’s wound. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” The voice cuts through your still-ringing ears. 

You know that voice. 

You’d know that voice anywhere. 

Your heart thunders, and your lips start to tremble as you try to reconcile everything you thought was reality with what’s really in front of you. 

You turn slowly to find an achingly familiar pair of warm hazel eyes. 

He’s alive. 

“Aaron?” You sob. You reach out for him but he catches you before you can stumble, his arms steady around your waist. He whispers into your hair, bringing a protective hand up to cradle your head as you sob into his chest. 

“It’s okay. I got you. I told you I’d come for you.” 

His voice is the last thing you hear before you black out, your body finally offering you some well-earned reprieve.

———

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[lovenona]

“SONGS FROM THE LYRE”

or – the odyssey, interlude ii

“what, you don’t believe me?” toji’s voice is syrup and honey against your eardrum. “you’ll believe whatever an old man with yellow teeth tells you about the fabled sukuna, but not me?” 

he bites your neck, playful, and you giggle against him, a light and airy sound. it sings like wind-chimes against summer rain, and you float with the noise, float with him as he nips at your skin. 

“i didn’t say that,” you say, but your voice is too unconvincing when fushiguro toji’s disheveled hair tickles your jawline. his hands play with your waist, thumbprints pressing against your hips: and how can you answer his questions in such a state? how are you supposed to maintain your calm? 

“i said,” you manage in between bouts of laughter, of soft and precious moans, “that i’ve never even heard that serpent speak, and i’m near it just as much as you are.” 

(even now, it swims circles in the corner of the room, oblivious to your antics. you have long since grown used to the idea that this serpent has seen enough of you to last a lifetime.) 

“he’s just scared of you,” toji argues, but his voice is too unconvincing when his tongue is licking stripes across your collarbone as if he’ll never devour anything as enticing as your body again. you tug mindlessly at his hair, running the coarse strands between your fingertips like sand and diamonds. today, toji smells like the sea, like danger, like wine. you know this because you shared it all with him. you know this because if you saw yourself in a looking-glass your mouth would be stained with drink, with toji, with thunder.

toji drags his lips from your collarbone back to your jaw as he plants his garden with a gentle kiss. “he doesn’t like to talk when others are around. but trust me, i know. i’ve always heard it. how do you think i found him in the first place?” 

you eyelids flutter shut beneath toji’s ministrations. you are warm, you think, and perfectly content, even if you know that toji’s bed against the open window will never be a real home to you. but here, mindlessly indulged, it is enough.

“mhmm,” you say, because you are more than willing to believe anything fushiguro toji tells you. “the serpent talks, i’m sure.” 

“he does. some things in this world exist differently than we do. if anyone should know that, it’s you.” 

you know there is some truth to his statement. but lost in the sensation of toji’s calloused hands playing games between your legs, you do not have it in you to argue about it further. you do not have the strength to challenge his words. 

so you say instead, breathless, eyes full of the moon: “tell me more.” and, eyes alight with mirth and pleasure and stardust, he does. 

––

not everyone is the same: not everyone lives powerless. there are those, you see, who hide in shallow coves and windless waters, who do not understand what it means to be alive. there are those who saw stars burn and those who will watch cliffsides crumble. they will not live, but they will not die, so they wallow in darkness. 

and of course, among them, lie creatures of night and hurt and seduction. you know them easily by sight and smell: sirens from the deep who emerge from the shallows to offer their scaled hands in marriage. they peer at you with large and intrusive eyes, searching for the soul they lost long ago. 

everyone knows they were once human. but, as they say, something precious has been stolen away that can never be returned. something has been taken from those lost corpses of the deep, something that has rendered them different and strange and unknowable, until they sing their long and sorrowful lamentations of a love that could have been, of a love that will never be, until they sing for the mortality they left behind.  

they do not know what it means to be alive. and they do not like you, breathing creature of the sand. if you chance upon one, perhaps you should hate them too: hatred for their pain, hatred for their fury. 

(but it is difficult, is it not? to remain heartless in the face of a gentle tragedy?)

once, long ago, a young siren, brittle and strange, lived on the rocks of a desolate coast. day by day he peered out into the open expanse of a midday sky like he could find his missing past waiting for him there. he could not speak: he could only listen. and when he tried to tell of his woes, to ask for food and love and assistance, he found himself cursed by the gods’ tongue. all he told to die would do it. all he told to starve for his sake would do it. all he told to stay with him would do it. but even those who stayed loyal to him could not feed on the salty air, so they too would leave, their bodies damp and cold and still. 

the young siren did not understand why he had changed. he could recall a face, cunning and cruel, that once peered down upon him as he slept. he could recall a cold hand on his throat, icy and frozen with the absence of a heart. but what he could not recall was the time, or the place, or the name. he knew he had changed and that he was no longer alive. so he sat upon his desolate rocks on the desolate coast and let himself stare into oblivion.  

he waited for his lostness to be returned to him. but all those he asked could never find it. and so he waits, still, with his eyes forever fixed on the horizon. 

there are others, too, who live bonded by the cold hand of fate. there are those who linger and should not speak: a ruffled panda on a humid coast who searches for his master, a young man with his heart standing both in and out time. there are those who must have committed an egregious error in a past life to end up so alone. there are those who have sinned from power and now sit in lonely coves as they wait for lovers to take them. there are those who are cursed to watch time pass but to never feel it themselves, to rot within the godliness they alone thought they had attained.

the curses of the sea were human, once. they all were. but water and anger and fate created entities that could not speak enough or could not speak at all. they are no longer us, but something else, immortal and bitter and wasted. those curses would like to be freed; they would like to go home. but, as they say, something has been stolen away from them that can never be returned. 

(do they wait forever for release? they must. they wait, ghosts of the ocean, sirens of the sea, until something will drag them back under.)

–– 

“wake up,” someone tells you, “it’s time.”

you do not know if you would like to listen to the voice. you are plagued with an impeccable sadness that turns your body to lead. you think there is something, a forgotten history perhaps, that has eluded you with the grace of a rabbit. there lies a rock in your throat, tears in your eyes. 

what were you dreaming? and why are you crying? 

(there was a fire, a burning heart. there was blood. there were faces you swore you would protect. there was a molten man with fire in his eyes who dressed your wounds and cured you. you decide to discard the feeling.) 

instead, now, a midday sun sits heavy on your eyelids. you open them, slowly, and you do not immediately recognize this rowboat as your own. you do not seek to recognize these arms which cradle you, this self you must have become while your mind was away. it must all be a story, isn’t it? these faces on your memory? 

the water is shallow, clear, impossibly blue. you must be far from the malevolent shrine, you reckon, although you cannot find the strength to turn back and look for it. it does not matter. something tells you this four-armed man will tell you where you need to go. something tells you that you can trust him.

(i will cure you, you remember he said, although you do not want to. and then i will make sure it never happens again. i will give you power.) 

he swiftly maneuvers the boat into a large and lonely cove. anticipation dances in the air, a warm and welcoming breeze that whispers among the lush trees which litter the mountain beyond the beach. the boat slows as you sail towards the sand, navigate through the smooth rocks and boulders dotting the water. 

but, to your horror, you realize you have been here before. and it had not been in an old dream, because the details are much too vivid to shy away from. you know that you have seen this idyllic place, this narcissus pool, once before. because you know, when you turn your head and find the lonesome figure waiting for you on a smooth and pensive boulder, that you would fall into the endless expanse of those bright blue eyes again. 

(so they wait, ghosts of the ocean, tragic sirens who wish for sand.) 

the four-armed man rows closer. and just beyond, sitting on the boulder, he waits.