#she insists on sitting on my chest (to better suffocate me) and bites me if I try to reposition her

[pangur-and-grim]

my two beautiful girls who compress my lungs and do not let me sleep

[yutanology]

Promise Me | Yandere! Nakamoto Yuta X Fem!Reader

Warning : 18+, possessive, foul behaviours, sexual content(nothing biggie), mental illness, death, etc. No proofread. Please, don't be too harsh on me. I'm still new and this is my first ever one shot/fanfiction here :)

Word count : 2.4k+

"Could you just stop?" Y/n whisper shouted at her seatmate who had been bothering her since this morning.

It's not like this is new to her or to anyone in their class but today, he seemed to be more clingy and touchy than he usually was and she found it quite unusual.

By the time she stepped into the school campus this morning, he abandoned his game with his friends on the soccer field just to greet her with his dashing smile and a nice warm hug.

She didn't mind it at first as she was already used to it but when she thought he's going to leave her alone after that, he followed her around instead like a lost puppy. She could almost see a furry tail happily wagging behind him.

Everywhere she goes, he's there right beside her. Either his hands were holding hers or his arms were wrapped around her lower waist. Some people were jealous or happy when they thought they're finally officially together and when someone questioned their relationship, Y/n would immediately respond saying they're just friends while Yuta would say otherwise, leaving them confused.

He was still attached to her during her classes and even ditched his just to be with her. The teachers could only sigh in defeat and shake their head. They knew that whatever they say, there's nothing they can do to make the stubborn guy follow their orders.

At the end, he'd always get what he wants.

The Japanese boy glanced at her side profile. His head was laying on top of his other hand. Seeing her brows furrowed irritatedly, he stopped for a moment before continuing to twirl a few strands of her silky hair between his long fingers.

It doesn't look like he has any plans of keeping his hands to himself at all. She'd been trying to get rid of him for countless times and she failed with all of those useless attempts. She's so close of getting angry at him but she doesn't want to lash out on him and seem like a bad person.

With her another sigh passing through her soft reddish lips, she looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Just five minutes more, Y/n. Just a little more patience, you can do it.’ she tried to convince herself. By those five minutes, she let Yuta play with her hair.

When the school bells rang and echoed around the campus, she immediately fixed her things and rushed out of the classroom before the teacher could even dismiss them. The corridors are already crowded and she could only hope that Yuta wouldn't be able to follow after her this time.

She decided to go to the restroom and stayed there until she was certain that Yuta's nowhere around her. He's really acting weird and she couldn't understand why. Whenever she asked what's wrong with him, he'd always say the same thing like 'I'm fine. It's all in your mind.’

His gaze, the way he looks at her also felt different this time. She felt something uneasy somewhere in the pit of her stomach or maybe there's something wrong with 𝘩𝘦𝘳. Maybe she's just overthinking way too much since that's what she always do mostly when she doesn't get enough sleep and she stayed up late last night.

That's right... these shit are all just in her head.

She released an exhausted sigh and turned the faucet on to wash her face, hoping that it would also wash her frustrations away. She reached for a handkerchief from her bag and wiped her face dry as she made her way out of the comfort room.

Her heart almost jumped out of her ribs when she found Yuta standing just a single step from the exit. She gasped and her hand immediately flew to her chest in surprise. "Yah! Stop scaring me like that!" she yelled and he only chuckled in amusement.

"I've been waiting for you. What took you so long?" he asked her, locking his hand on hers as he lead her to the canteen. Eyes of the people they passed by were immediately on them like they're more interesting than the lessons that their teachers taught them.

"Wait, why were you waiting for me?" confusion was evident on her face.

"So we can eat together for lunch, of course. Come on, we don't have all the time. Classes are going to start after forty minutes." he casually said, pulling her closer to him when they walked passed a group of boys and he didn't fail to notice the way they looked at Y/n.

He didn't like it, not even a bit.

Y/n seriously couldn't count how many times she sighed at how she always end up letting Yuta do whatever he wanted to do with her. From the simple hand holds to sudden random kisses that he pepper on her face. No matter how hard she tried to push him off, he'd always stick himself even more closer to her.

It was like that for the passed weeks and it was honestly so tiring as hell. Yuta just won't leave her alone even when she goes to the restroom, he would insist to wait outside the cubicle that she had to push him away and lock the main door of the room.

She could barely talk to other people peacefully as he would shoo them away immediately and ask them to leave her alone. It was so frustrating and she's getting fed up of his unexplained foolish practices.

She's well aware that the guy likes her more than just a friend and she also can't deny that she's attracted to him but these behaviours of his are just too much for her.

The said dirty blonde haired Japanese guy was sitting closely beside her, his chin rested on her right shoulder as he watched her turn pages of the book that she's reading. He wasn't paying attention to the words written on the dead leaves. His eyes stared at her small hands, wondering how they would feel like around his cock—

"Yuta." the guy's ears perked up when she said his name. Snaking his arms around her waist, he pulled her to his chest and planted a kiss on her neck. Her cheeks heated at the unexpected skin contact but she tried her best to ignore the butterflies that he's giving her.

She's planning to finally confront him and she had to make him stop whatever he's doing cuz it's no fun at all. It's not entertaining and she's not amused at all. "Yuta." he hummed, his kisses getting wet and he started to graze his teeth on her skin, lightly nibbling on them until he finally bit hard enough to leave a mark.

A whimper tried to escape her mouth but she's fast enough to bite her lower lip, trapping the sound until it disappeared on it's own. He was disappointed when she didn't make any sound for him, thinking that he didn't do well enough to make her feel good so he ran the tip of his tongue on her neck.

His hot minty breath heated her skin and tingles spread around her body when he blew her sensitive ear, nibbling her earlobe and placing a kiss on one of her flushed cheeks. His hands wandered under her blouse, caressing the side of her hips with his thumb.

He slowly dragged his large hands up under her breasts and just when he was about to touch them, Y/n pulled away from him. A low whine and groan simultaneously erupted from him, complaining at the lose of skin contact from her.

Y/n looked around the library if someone saw them and she was thankful that no one was there but only them. She straightened her blouse, closing the book and stood up. "Where are you going?" he also stood up from his seat, ready to follow her wherever she's going.

She didn't answer him. She slung one of her bag's strap on her shoulder, walking away with the book and placed it back to where she took it. Yuta was quick to keep up with her steps, confused of why she was suddenly in a hurry.

When they finally got out of the library, she stopped at the nearby bleachers where students barely pass by and turned to him with an exasperated sigh, "Yuta, seriously, what's wrong with you?" the way she questioned him came out more stressed out than how she wanted it to be.

Yuta blinked his eyes a few times as if he's trying to figure out what she meant. "What do you mean, what's wrong with me? I'm totally fine. Are you okay?" it was his turn to ask her, walked close to her and placed a hand on her forehead.

"Are you sick? You don't seem fine to me. Let me take you to the clinic—"

"Yuta, stop." she stepped away from him before he could even hold her hand. He halted, his brows met as his eyes stared at her worryingly.

"Stop whatever you're doing to me and please, leave me alone. I also need some time for myself and other people around me, alright? You can't keep me from interacting with anyone. This is honestly suffocating, Yuta. We can't keep doing this."

He felt like his heart shattered into tiny pieces. His chest tightened and his airways narrowed, making him unable to breath properly. Without him knowing, tears were already streaming down his cheeks.

Y/n was taken aback at this, immediately feeling guilty for making him cry. She didn't expect him to be this emotional for his appearance.

"Look, I'm sorry but—"

"D-don't you love me anymore, Y/n?" He didn't let her finish her words, leaving her speechless at the question.

Her mouth left agape, struggling to find the right words to tell him. "Did you find someone else better than me that's why you're planning to leave me, is that it?" more salty water poured out of his eyes.

"Yuta, w-what are you talking about? We're not in a relationship to begin with."

"Then let's be together officially! Just you and me, Y/n. I'll do anything just to be with you. I promise, I'll be the best boyfriend you'll ever have. I'll give you everything you want—" he held her arms, "—just promise me I'll be the only one you'll ever love and want to be with. Promise me, Y/n. Promise me!"

Yuta secured his arms around her, holding onto her desperately. Scared that if he lets go, he might lose her. He can't let that happen. Like what he said, he'll do whatever it takes just to have her.

All for himself.

"Y-you have to promise me, Y/n."

Her head was clouded with a lot of thoughts. She was barely thinking straight and her emotions also messed up with her. She really likes Yuta. The increasing speed of her heartbeat and the butterflies flying around her stomach with euphoria whenever she's with him didn't lie at all but it felt wrong.

These feelings didn't feel right.

She pulled herself away from him and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Yuta..." that was all she said before she left him without even looking back at him.

She had no idea how it broke him and how it made him do things that a normal person wouldn't do. He saw nothing but red after she disappeared from his sight. Everyone who tried to touch or talk to her the next day suddenly disappeared, a minute after they left somewhere else.

At first, she didn't think much about it until the number of people disappearing quickly increased and made everyone alarmed. All schools around the place were forced to close for a moment and people were told to stay at home with tight security to keep them safe.

Everyone was scared including Y/n, of course.

It made her so anxious that she could barely sleep at night. One morning, a knock on her door echoed around her silent apartment and she panicked, quickly hiding on her bedroom.

She almost peed her pants in fear when the knocking and ringing of doorbells continued for minutes. Her phone went off on her nightstand and she ran to it. Yuta's calling.

Without a second thought, she answered it with trembling voice. "Y-yuta..."

"Y/n, are you okay? Please open your door for me, I have to make sure you're safe. I'm the one outside your house."

And that was all it took for him to be with her. Make her scared to be outside, convince her that everyone is dangerous and he's the only one who can protect her.

Whenever he goes outside to buy food and other necessities for the both of them, he'd always return with a small cut or bruises and it made Y/n scared that she might lose him too.

He's all she had left.

He made her thought of that. He's all and everything she could ever need. She'd be nothing without him.

"Do you love me?" he asked and she nodded silently.

"If you really do, promise me that you'll love me and only me, Y/n. I wanna hear it from you." Yuta looked at her straight in the eyes when he said those words.

"I promise." his heart raced inside his chest.

A smile stretched out on his plump lips. "I love you, Y/n. So much than you could ever imagine." He meant it. He always had and always will. He leaned his body closer to her, locking his lips with hers and they moved in sync.

This is paradise to him.

He couldn't explain how much happy he's right now. With her here in his arms, it's the only place where she's safe. He watched her drift off to sleep, he kissed her forehead when her eyes finally closed.

He could look at her like this forever. The love bites that he painted on her skin looks so beautiful. She's like the most beautiful painting he'd ever seen and she deserve to be placed on his art gallery but she's only for him to be looked at.

He sighed dreamily as he continued to press more kisses on her neck. He successfully made her love him. There's nothing he could ask for, now that her naked body is already tangled with him under their soft blanket.

He could only hope that she'd keep her words and stay true to him.

Feedbacks are pretty much appreciated and requests are open! Feel free to share your thoughts!

I will not always be active but I will try my best to attend each of your requests and to also interact with y'all.

I apologize for not being word-perfect in English. English sadly ain't for me—

[127-mile]

Pairing : demon!Jaehyun x fem!reader.

Genre : demon!au / yandere-ish!au / fluff, angst, mature content.

Warnings : This is not what a normal loving relationship is like, this is a work of fiction. fingering (fem. receiving) unprotected sex (kids, please be smart) coming inside. non sexual choking. mention of deaths. explicit (kind of, it’s pretty soft) and non explicit deaths. blood. alcohol consumption. mention of drugs. manipulation. toxic relationship.

Word count : +10.1k.

Plot : Instead of having a guardian angel, you have a guardian demon. His methods are often more violent, but they are more straight forward. What does he have that the regular guardians don’t ? An obsession. You.

You didn’t think being assigned to a demon was a simple mistake, do you ?

A/N : This is part of the Halloween collab made by the incredible @neo-cult-ure. We had to choose a song, mine is Kill for you by Zolita.

Taglist : @plump-peach​ / @crtznstuff​ / @kriselynne​ / @yourmagnanimousholiness​ / @soothingjae​ / @peachjaem00​ / @chanslaptopp​ / @luvlyjaemin​ / @jeongyoonohs​ / @junghoe​ / @nakayutasama​ / @ddaawwnn7​

"Say my name." the voice in your ear is hoarse, and it echoes in your head. You feel the man's hands along your arms, and his fingers leave a scorching trail in their paths. "Say my name." he repeats one more time, and you make the mistake of opening your eyes. What you see is not human, the eyes are red, deep and empty of any kind of humanity, you see yourself in the void. "Say my name, and I will show you wonders that humans can only dream of." His voice is urgent, and though you are thinking, you can not remember his name.

The weight of the man's body against yours is both agonizing and reassuring, you must be losing your mind, and he is the reason. His voice, his perfume -a mixture of burnt wood, and something irresistible that you are unable to describe- and the power of his gaze from which you can't take your eyes off. "Come on, my sweet love, say my name." a shiver runs down yuor body, and you arch your back off the bed when you feel the man's tongue running down your throat, and god, you cant to feel more. He is more addicting than any drug you have ever tried.

The window is open, you can feel the cool breeze on your bare body and yet, it feels like you are burning from the inside. Drops of sweat pearl at your hairline. You open your mouth, but no words come out, only an embarrassing moan as the man's teeth pierce through the skin of your neck, but you don't have time to think about the pain because his tongue soothes the wound right away.

Once again, you find yourself unable to move, or to think and the man sits up but you refuse to meet his gaze once more, too afraid to lose yourself in his eyes. To lose yourself completely. "Until I met you, I was convinced that angels were the only creatures capable of such beauty, but you proved me wrong. They should be ashamed to show themselves when you exist, my love."

His voice is suddenly painful, and you feel your heart twist. Maybe it was a trick, because you open your eyes without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. But all you see is a smile. A bloody smile. "If you don't say my name, I'm going to have to force you to say it. It would be a shame to see your pretty tongue being ripped out, don't you think ?" his voice is cold now, as cold as the fingers he wraps around your throat. "Say it !"

Fear, you feel nothing but fear. But what are you afraid of ? To have offended him, or to die ? You do not know. Your breathing is getting slower, and your field of vision is darkening until you can see nothing but darkness, and feel nothing but the cold. Everything is cold, so so cold.

You open your eyes, a sudden coughing fit waking you up fully. Your eyes are full of tears running down your sleep-swollen cheeks and your lips taste metallic, you must have bitten them during the night. You put your hands around your neck where you thought you would still feel the pressure of the stranger's fingers, but nothing.

Your lungs are burning, and you sit up to catch your breath. It's long, and rather difficult but you get there. The room is only illuminated by the rays of sunshine passing through the curtains, and all you see are the small particles of dust flying around the room. Then, your gaze falls on something. Or someone, and a cry broken by your aching throat escape your lips.

As fast as it arrived, the shadow vanishes and you shake your head. You have barely woken up from a terrible dream, your mind is only playing tricks on you, nothing more.

"What the fuck..." you mumble, running your fingers through your hair. You feel the drops of sweat running down your spine, and you don't waste a minute getting out of bed. A cold shower will do you the most good, you think, heading to the only bathroom. Under the jet of water, you think about your dream. The man's touch seemed so real that if you focus you can still feel the burn from his fingers.

It's not the first time you had a dream with this man, it's not the first time he's asked you to say his name, but it's the first time he's become threatening, and scary. You sigh, and come out of the water after rising your hair. In the mirror, you notice a mark on your neck, and you walk closer with a frown. "What ?" the mark vaguely resembles a bite. Right where the man bit you. But it can only be a coincidence, right ? Maybe you did this to yourself during the night.

You come out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around your chest. When you enter the room, you have the unpleasant feeling of being watched. Yet when you turn, you see nothing but the mirror hanging from the door. You are going crazy, there is no other explanation. If your mother was there, she would tell you that it was the fault of your excessive consumption of caffeine.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and the drops of water flowing from the tips of your hair mix with the perspiration. Since when your room has become this hot ? The summer is coming to an end, you should not be suffocating.

You forget all about the heat when you feel something on your shoulder, but once again, when you turn around, nothing. Maybe you should have listened to Kun when he adviced you, and Ten, not to use a ouija board in the apartment without reading the instructions first. Maybe you called something malicious, and you are going to get possessed ? At least the thought helps you calm your heart pouding in your chest before breaking into a fit of giggle. Crazy.

The front door swings open, and you stop laughing immediately. You hear the sound of shoes swinging against the drawer and get up from the bed. You do not have time to go to the door because it opens on Ten, he is breathless. "I'm going to die. It's too hot !" he yells, before falling on the bed. Sweat made his blonde hair stick to his forehead, and you resist the temptation to pull them back. "I think the aircon is broken." you mumble while Ten nods.

"I tried to turn it on this morning, but nothing, so I went to the neighbords and they are having trouble with theirs too. I think it's the end Y/n." you roll your eyes, biting your lower lip. "By the way, did you bring someone back last night ?" he asks, sitting up on his elbows.

"What ? Of course not!" one of the rules of the roommates is not to bring anyone home without telling the other so that they can find someone to keep them for the night. "Eh, don't like, I heard you talking with someone." you shake your head, you didin't bring anyone back last night.. well not that you remember. "Maybe I was on the phone ?" the question is not for Ten, but for you. Because now that you think about it, you have no memories of the day before.

You came home from work, yes, but the rest ? You do not know. You went to bed, since you woke up in your sheets and in pajamas, but nothing else. "Are you okay ?" Ten asks in a worried voice, and you nod. "Yeah, I think I'm just tired from work." Ten doesn't look convinced, but there is nothing more he can do. "Yeah, well, you should take is slow. Have some rest."

Finally, Ten gets up from the bad and walks out of the bedroom. You take the opportunity to put on light clothes. You could've just stayed naked, but that is not possible with Ten in the apartment. You do not need to go to work today, and with the heat, you don't plan on going out, so you lie in bed, your eyes on the ceiling. You need some explanation about yesterday, about your dream, and the bite mark on your neck, but for now, you also need some rest.

"You know, if you want to see me, you just have to say my name, it's not that hard." the voice is back, and you feel an unpleasant chill going down your spine. You sit up in bed and notices that is is now dark, you must have slept for several hours. You are alone in the room, and yet, the voice sounded so close, as if the man was lying next to you. "Who is here ?" you ask in a trembling voice.

You do not expect any answer, that's why when a small laugh echoes in the room, you stop moving. "You should know that." the voice responds, and you wonder if you aren't just sleeping and having a vivid dream since they seem to be more and more frequent lately. "I've been following you for a while." the voice resumes calmly, and you blink.

"Haven't you ever had the feeling of being watched, of being followed wherever you go ?" you nod. "It's me. It's always been me. I'm always with you. It's my job after all." his work ? You are lost, and he seems to feel it as he picks up. "Say my name, and you'll understand, everything will me so much easier, I promise."

You frown, but why is he so insistent ? You do not even know his damn name. "Are you there because of the ouija board ?" you ask in a small voice, and the laughter that escapes from the void gives you goosebumps. "The ouija board ? My angel, this is only material, you can't call anything through a simple wooden board, especially not me." you suddenly feel stupid for asking the question, but you had to know.

"Your name.." you whisper. "how am I supposed to know it ?" you feel the mattress dips under an invisible weight and you culd up on yourself. "I've told you my name, so many times, but you don't listen. I'll make you remember it this time." you feel a warm breath on your face, and a pression against your lips. But before you can react, the ghostly touch slides down your neck, and the pain is the same as in her previous dream when he bit you. Except this time, it's not pleasure that you feel, but real pain.

"Open your eyes, and you'll have the answer you're looking for." at these words, a sharp pain makes you open your mouth, wide, as if one had just plunged your arm in boiling water. You try to scream but no sound comes out, the pain is too much, you are already losing all of your senses, you can feel your limbs going numb, and once again, the darkness sunrrounds you.

When you open your eyes, you are in bed, and the room is still illuminated by the sun through the curtains. You look at your alarm clock, and notice that you have barely dozed off ten minutes. You rub your eyes, your eyelids are heavy, you have the impression of waking up from a very long nap. It takes a good minute for you to come back to your senses, and when you turn your head, your gaze stops on a mark on your arm.

Not a mark. A name.

A name is like engraved in your flesh on several centimeters. You hiss when you run your fingers over the wounds, it's perfectly healed and yet so painful. You read the name a few times but do not dare to say it out loud, you are afraid of the consequences. You pull yourself out of bed with difficulty and leave the room. You have no choice, you can't keep it to yourself any longer, you need to talk about it, and Ten will have no choice but to listen to you.

You find him in the leaving room, lying on the floor, fanning himself with an old magazine. "Ten.." your voice must be shaky because Ten immediately straightens up, and he stands up when he sees you holding your arm. His first thought is that you fell out of bed and broke your arm, but when he cotices the lines of your skin, he stops. "What is that ?" you shrug, and when he approches, you whine for him not to touch.

"Jae.." you shake your head vigorously; "Don't say it, please." you are ready to beg for him to remain silent, but he shuts his mouth before you have the chance to do so. He takes your free hand and directs you to the sofa when you sit. He takes a seat on the coffee table opposite and looks at the name over and over again. "It's weird." Ten looks calm, unlike you. You are clearly panicking. You heart is hammering in your chest, and soon, you can feel the tears runinng down your cheeks. You didn't even know you were on the verge of crying until now.

"Hey, don't cry, it's fine." Ten whispers, cupping your face in his hands so his eyes meet yours. He reads nothing but confusion and fear. "What's wrong with me Ten ?" your voice breaks his heart, so low and quavering. "Seems to be your.. your guardian ?" you tilt your head, urgning Ten to continue. "Our guardian angel. They manifest themselves when they feel that we need help. But they are here long before, they are always near us to be sure that they can help us even is we cannot see or feel them. Saying their name is the only way to make them appear, but- but it's never like that."

He's talking about the mark on your arm, you know it. Ten had a visit from his guardian angel when he was barely 15, because he needed it, and he doesn't have any irreversible marks on his skin, and he's not traumatized by the experience, unlike you. "Guardian angels aren't meant to hurt you, it's quite the opposite." the more he talks, the more you feel lost. Why you ? What avec you done in your previous life to receive such treatment ? "Maybe there was a mistake, and you got a demon instead of an angel." Ten is kidding, but that simple thought could answer so many of your questions.

"But- but what if it was true ? What is if it was a demon ?" you ask, and Ten shakes his head. "If it was a possibility, don't you think we would know ?" you don't want to think about the possilibities of why you've never heard of this kind of thing, so you sigh, lowering your head. "Until we know more, don't say the name, and try to clear your mind of all this, okay ?" You nod, it's not like you have any other choice. 

The following days are alike for you, except for the growing sensation of being watched and followed wherever you go. You try somehow not to look at your arm, but it's difficult. It's like a magnet. After the fifth day, you walk through the apartment door with a long sigh, it's been a long day. Ten is absent, he warned you that he would spend the evening with some of his childhood friends. Perfect.

You put your things in the bedroom, and you walk to the living room to settle on the sofa. You turn on the television, not to watch it, but to have some backgroun noises, and you look at your arm. What's the worst that could happen ? You shrug, and take a deep breath. "Jaehyun." you whisper, and when you see that nothing is happening, you speak in a louder voice. "Jaehyun."

The television turns off, and the lights flicker around you. You grab a pillow, as if it would help protect yourself in the event of a sudden attack from the stranger. "Jaehyun." you repeat one last time, and a shape begins to materialize in front of the sofa. The man's face is the last to appear, and yes, that's the face you've seen so much in your dreams. He watches you curiously, his head tilted to the side. He doesn't seem to believe that you can finally see him, that you finally called his name.

"You did it, you said my name." he says in a voice that's more softer that what you were expecting and walk over. If the sofa wasn't glued to the wall, you would've gone over it to escape. But when he sees your reaction, he throws both hands in the hair. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to do anything to you." his voice is meant to be comforting, and you get up from the sofa to observe him, not without letting go of your trusty cushion.

"You said if I said your name, I would understand everything. Explain yourself, because I feel like I'm going crazy." Jaehyun feels the weakness in your voice, and he blames himself for it, but he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't stay away from you any longer. Being near you is a vital need for the demon. "Calm down, I'll tell you everything." he sits down on the armchair, his legs crossed like a child. With a nod of his heads, he bids you to take a seat, and you obey.

"I must warn you immediately that I don't have the answer you are looking for. I don't know why you were assigned to a demon, and not an angel." if you had knows that you wouldn't get the answer to the question you deem the most important, you wouldn't have called his name. But you'll listen to him, and you'll see if you can send him back eventually. "All I know is that I've been following you for a very long time, and that I would never hurt you."

The demon has a soft voice, but that doesn't stop you from not believing those words. "You tried to kill me the other day, in my dream." Jaehyun shakes his head, a thin smile on his face. Speaking of his face, you notice that he is very handsome with pretty dimples making him look almost childish. He looks like an angel. "It's not what you think, you had to wake up, and you had to say my name." He gets up, and walks over to you. "I promise you, that will never happen in real life. You are under my protection, and nothing will ever happen to you. "

He was right, nothing happened to you.

When you say nothing happened to you, nothing happened to you at all. Your life was already not very exciting, so with the arrival of the young demon, it became even worse. The boys who dare to approch you are quickly sent away because of Jaehyun who does not seem to appreciate their presence around you. Even Ten doesn't spend as much time with you as he used to, and it hurts.

"Why are you ignoring me ?" you ask, dropping down on the sofa next to Ten who doesn't take his eyes off his phone. He shrugs, and you frown. "Tell me, what did I do wrong ? I miss you." you whisper, and Ten sighs before putting down his phone. Well, hetting his attention is a success, now the conversation. "It's your little dog. He follows you everywhere, it's impossible to have a moment with you without him showing up and threatening to smash my knees."

You shake your head. "What are you talking about ? Jaehyun has never threatened to smash your knees, he is not threatening anyone, he just want to make sure I'm safe." Ten's laughter is cold, and extremely sarcastic. "Please, this is not protection, this is unhealthy possessiveness." Ten sits cross-legged and watches you. "Jaehyun does everything in his power to keep people away from you, Y/n, including me, yet god knows I wouldn ever hurt you."

At the simple mention of his name, the demon appears in the living room. Ten jolts, and winces at the burning smell that seems to follow Jaehyun everywhere he does, but you are used to it. Jaehyun frown as he walks over to the sofa where he looks at the two of you. Seeing you together created something very unpleasant in his chest. Jealousy, yes, that's it. "What is going on ?" he asks, and you are always surprised to hear how much his tone of voice changes when he is not talking to you. From soft and soothing, his voice becomes cold and as sharp as a knife.

"Nothing, nothing is going on !" Ten growns as he gets up from the sofa. He could confront the demon about his behavior, but he doesn't want to do it in front of you. So he walks around him, looking at him with utter disgust, and he locks himself in his room, slamming the door on the way. "Did I do something wrong ?" Jaehyun asks, sitting down next to you, his head tilted. He looks innocent, but he is not, he's so far from being innocent. Even though you've never seen him hurt anyone, you know he's done it before, and can do it at any moment.

Yes, you learned to appreciate Jaehyun, but that doesn't stop you from knowing deep down that demons are up to no good most of the time.

"Ten told me you threatened to harm him." you say, and Jaehyun tenses up, but only for a second before he regains his composure. "What ? But why would I do something like this ! He doesn't like me, he's just looking for a reason to get rid of me." he mumbles, and you do not answer.

"What are you doing ?" Jaehyun's voice startle you, you didn't expect to see him in the bathroom doorway, watching you. "What are you doing here ? Shouldn't you be taking a bath in hell or something ?" Jaehyun is used to that kind of little mean jokes, especially when you are tired, so he choose to not respond. "Are you going out ? Where are we going ?" he asks with the excitement of a child, and you turn to him, shaking your head.

"I'm going out. You stay here." You explain, but it doesn't suit Jaehyun whose expression turns sour. "No, no, I'm coming with you. I can't leave you alone." you sigh. "The goal of a guardian is to give advice, to be sure that we are making the right decisions, not to follow up wherever we go." you mumble. It is not right that Jaehyun is everywhere with you. He has to protect you, yes, you understand tha part, but it's getting too much, he is invasible and you are suffocating.

"I'm not like other guardians." he growls, and you fold your arms accross your chest, looking at the demon's reflection in the mirror. You are too tired to argue. "I'm not asking for you opinion, Jaehyun you stay here while I go out. I don't need to have you glued to my ass."

You will later learn that you should never have said that.

Jaehyun was absent for the following days.

No matter how much you called his name over and over, he never answered. Even the feeling of being followed and watched stopped, and for a moment, you wondered if you had scared the demon away. And you got used to your new daily life very well. You shouldn't have.

Earlier in the evening, you were persuaded by Ten to joing him at a party organized by several of his co-workers to celebrate his promotion. Normally you would've stayed home to red, but tonight, you wanted to have fun. And it is for this reason that you currently find yourself pressed against the wall of a room of which you don't know the owner, kissing a boy of who you are not sure to have understood the name. Joe ? John ? Johnny ? You do not know, you couldn't hear it with the hubbub of the guests and the music.

You close your eyes when you feel the boy's hands slip under your t-shirt. His fingers are cold, which contrasts with your burning skin. "Coming was a great idea." he whispers close to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver softly. His lips slide down your neck for warm, and wet kisses, and you take the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and remode the button that holds his hean in place. With your foot, you slide it down until it falls loose around his ankles, so yuo can have access to the obvious tent in his briefs.

You stroke his cock through the fabric, and you smile as he tenses, his breath hitching against your throat. Your mouth open with a loud moan when you feel Johnny's teeth dig nto the skin between your neck and shoulder. The pain is extremely pleasant, and you press harder against his dick. "You are so hot." you smile, and play with the waistband of his brieds, snapping it against the skin of his hip. "So I've been told."

Soon, Johnny's lips are back on yours, and you can taste the alcohol he drank earlier, and he you had been drinking more than you had smoked, you would find it nice, but for now, the mix is pretty disgusting. Johnny breaks the kiss to catch his breath, and you looks into his eyes as you slowly pulls down his underwear. You frown when he opens his eyes wide, and before you can move, he is thrown back and slumped against the opposite wall.

"What the fuck!" you whisper when your gaze lands on Jaehyun. His eyes have nothing beautiful anymore, they are dark and frightening, like in your dreams. His breathing his heavy and rapid, he is enraged, you call feel it in the tense atmosphere of the room. "Jaehyun, what have you done !" you say when you finally come out of your torpor. As if he had just noticed your presence, Jaehyun turns to you and.. and he smiles. "I'm protecting you, my love."

"He was not hurting me !" you walk around the demon to join Johnny whose eyes are closed. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, you can see the blood streaming down his forehead. "Hey, hey, can you hear me ?" you asks. You are about to put your hand on him to shake him when Jaehyun grabs your wrist to force you on your feet. "He was going to hurt you, I felt it!" he says.

You try to extricate yourself from his grip, but he's much stronger. He pulls you against his chest, the heat emanating from his skin is strong, and he puts an arm around your waist to make you you do not move. "You can't trust them, Y/n, I'm the only one who'll never hurt you." His lips are close to yours, and like his body, his breath his hot.

Love ? You didn't know that a demon was capable of feeling anything like love. And why you ? What do you have more than other humans ? "Do you remember what I told you in your dream ?" He asks and you tilt your head, trying to remember. "I told you that I would show you wonders that humans can only dream of. And I will, but for that, you have to stay with me. You have to trust me."

You bite the inside of your cheek. Jaehyun is the dream boy. And when he behaves like a random human, you forget everything. But it is not an average boy you have in front of you, no, it's a demon, and yet..

"Is it true ?" you ask, and he frowns. "Do you really love me ?" he nods. "I love you, more than anyone will ever be able to love you." when he feels your fingers on his face, he smiles so fondly that he looks like a real angel. After all, demons are angels too, they just chose to follow a different god, you think.

"What are we going to do ?" you ask, glancing down at Johnny's limp body and Jaehyun sighs, annoyed at being cut off during such an intimate moment he's been waiting for. "I'll take care of it, you should go home." finally, he releases his hold on your waist, and you take a step back. You retrive your jacket that Johnny had thrown on the bed on entering the room, and you turn one last time when you open the door.

Jaehyun is hunched over Johnny's body, and if you weren't so confused by the whole situation and inebriated, you could swear you saw a red glow shine in the demon's eyes. You shake your head, and leave, closing the door behind you. In the hallway, you meet a guest who is about to open the bedroom door. "If I were you, I wouldn't go in there. Someone threw up, it's not pretty." the person, a boy with long blond hair growls and turns around. "Fuck, I saw no one in the fucking bedrooms."

You find Ten in the crowd, glass in hand, so you make you way to your roommate. You put a hand on his shoulder and lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home." he nods, before answering. "You want me to come with you ?" you refuse, explaining that it was his evening, he should take advantage of it and have fun. You promise to send him a message when you get home, and with that, you leave the house.

You take a deep breath when you step outside. The air is cold, and rain is starting to fall, just what you needed to cool your burning skin. You look at Ten's car parked in the driveway, and sigh when you realize you'll have to walk.

It is while walking in a dark alley of the city that you begin to regret the sensation of being watched from afar that Jaehyun gives you, because even if you have never admitted it, you feel safe. But now, you can't feel a thing, and you keep looking over your shoulder to make sure you are not being followed. But it must be your lucky day, because you arrive in front of your apartment in one piece, without having had any altercation with a drunk person.

The partment is empty, and silent.

You walk to the bedroom, and get rid of your wet clothes that smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. You pull on a hoodie you find on the back of your office chair, and sit on the edge of your bed. All alone with your thoughts, you force yourself not to think of Johnny, and his inert body. You don't even know if he was still alive when you left, and what will Jaehyun do ? Is he going to call an ambulance ? Pass it off as an alcohol-related accident ?

You start to shake, your eyes filling with tears, you shouldn't have left, you should have helped Johnny. A sob escapes your lips, and it is at this precise moment that you feel a touch on your hands which are placed on your thighs. The contact is warm, and though you are still alone, you know it's Jaehyun. It's always Jaehyun.

"Jaehyun ?" you ask in a small voice, and you expect him to appear, but the touch on your hands disappears. After several unanswered attempts, you give up and slip under the blanket. You fall asleep in a few minutes, lulled by the sounds of the traffic outside.

You open your eyes when you hear movement near you. A form is watching over you next to the bed. "Jaehyun". you whisper, and feel a warm hand on your cheek. "You came back." your voice is full of sleep, and you push yourself on the side to make room for the demon. You have never invited him to bed, so he hesitates for a moment before lying down next to you. You lay your head on Jaehyun's chest. Is it because of the fatigue ? Alcohol ? Or the heat he gives off ? You don't know. You apprently lose the power of knowledge when the demon is around.

You feel the demon tighten, so you put a hand on his stomach. "I thought you weren't coming back, like the last few days." Jaehyun has to bend down to hear your voice, it's so low, and when he understands, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry I didn't come back." you shrug looking up at him. "I missed you, that's all."

The demon chuckles, and runs his thumb over your lower lip. "Pretty mouth tells dirty lies." he whispers, and you shake your head, sitting up. "You do not believe me ?" his lack of response is sufficient for you to understand.

You do something you never thought you would do, you kiss him softly. But the contact is quickly broken by Jaehyun who watches you in the half-light, incredulous. "Why did you do that ?" you sigh, you don't know yourself, but you still open your mouth. "You love me, right ? More than anyone can ever love me ?" when he nods, you kiss him once more, and he responds this time. If at the beginning the kiss was slow and gentle, it become a little more passionate, more feverish.

"Come on, you need to sleep, you've had a hell of a day." Jaehyun whispers against your lips, and you sigh. You lie down appropriately, and Jaehyun pulls you to his chest. It's strange to hear a heart beat in the chest of a demon, but you close your eyes. Yes, you had an exhausting day.

After this evening, the relationship between you and your demon changed considerably. If before you did everything possible to get rid of him, now you no longer seem capable to go a minute without him near you. Whether it's by being there, or just a reassuring presence. And Jaehyun is delighted. That's what he always wanted, to be there for you, and with you as much as he wants. For the first time since he first saw you, he no longer feels that nasty pressure in his chest when he sees you getting close to a boy, or when he can't be with you. He feels light, and free.

This morning, when he wakes up, he feels a weight on his hips. He opens his eyes groaning at the bright light in the room, but when his gaze lands on you, he smiles. He puts his hands on your waist, and you lean in to kiss him. Jaehyun wonders how you always tastes sweet, but he is not complaining, it's enjoyable, and addicting. Everything is addicting when it comes to you.

"What did I do to deserve such a sweet treat ?" he asks after breaking the kiss, and he chuckles softly when you case his lips with a pout. "You have to answer my question first if you want another treat." Jaehyun's hands slide under your sleeping shirt, and you shiver slightly. "Can you still manipulate my dreams ?" the demon remains silent for a while, but his smile is worth a thousand words. "Why, did you dream of something special ?" he asks, and you bite your bottom lip.

You lean down, nestling your face in the crook of his neck. He smells like sleep, and you. "I dreamed that you made me scream your name. That you kept telling me that I was yours, and that you would do everything in you power to stay close to me."

Jaehyun nods every now and then, and his smile growns. It's almost carnivorous the way he smiles. "That's exactly what I would do, if I could manipulate your dreams, of course." he answers, and you sit up. "Oh, so you didn't ?" he shakes his head, and you roll your eyes. You know he is lying, so you intend to make him pay. It is extremely unpleasant and frustrating to wake up from a wet dream. You buck your hips, and the demon groans weakly.

He opens his eyes, and you can see lust growing in that dark and frightening void. "If you haven't manipulated my dream, maybe you should show me if you are able to do that in real life." he smirks, and flip you onto the bed of hover over you. You laugh softly, pressing your hand to your mouth, it's too early to wake up Ten. "That's what we're not going to do." Jaehyun whispers, grabbing your wrist to pull it off your mouth. "I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound you make, my love."

He places a tender kiss on your lips, and he slides his lips down your neck. He repeatedly bites the skin of your collarbone, and then your throat. He loves your throat for some reason. Your hands rest in Jaehyun's hair, and when he looks up to ask permission to remove the t-shirt he's been playing with the hem of, you nod. The piece of tissue ends up on the floor. He kisses your chest, and he slowly moves down to your stomach, never lifting his lips from your hot skin.

He lowers the waistband of your pants, and he kisses your hips, he's soft, so far from what you have been expecting. You squirm with each of his kisses, and you feel so wet, it's embarrassing. "Can I ?" he asks, and you nod vigorously. He laughs at your eagerness, and he pulls down your pants and panties and the same time. They join your shirt on the floor. You suddenly feel very shy, and all you want is to curl up. Jaehyun myst feel the change in your behavior because he looks up.

"Do you want us to stop ?" you shake your head, and urge him to come back up, which he does immediately. When he kisses you, you circle his waist with your legs, your hands already working to remove his pants. He's already half hard, and you lick his lips. You could make this last for hours, but you really need to have him inside of you as soon as possible. Hell foreplay.

"You are so perfect." he whispers, and you slide your hand over his cock. You use the precum that has built up on the tip to stroke it slowly. Jaehyun lets his head fall in the crook of your neck, and his hot breath hits against your shivering skin. You're already sweating, and so is Jaehyun, yet you haven't done anything. You continue the movements of your hand until he is completely hard, following one of the veins with the tip of your index, and it is the turn of the demon's hand to find itself between your thighs. You bite Jaehyun's lips as his fingers spread your folds to collect the slick on the pad of his fingers.

For a moment -much too short- he plays with your clit with the tips of his fingers, and soon one of them is rubbing against your hole. Slowly, far too gently, he eases his first finger inside, and you moan weakly. "Come on, please .." you whisper, you do not know what you're asking for, but your brain is already turning into mush. It's Jaehyun's fault, his warmth, his scent, his hands, everything. He adds a second finger, then moves slowly back and forth, watching for any of your reactions.

When he crooks his fingers, and he reaches that little bundle of nerves that makes you roll your eyes and moan his name, he adds a third finger, and he speeds up, his thumb on your clit. "Stop stop, it's enough." you mumble, and Jaehyun withdraws his fingers. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, but is soon replaced by the head of Jaehyun's cock. He spits into his hand to lubricate his cock before returning to his original position. He puts his hands on either side of your face, caging you. And slowly, very slowly, he eases himself inside.

"You are so tight." you close your eyes, arching your back off the bed when he bottoms out you feel the bones of his hips flush against your ass, and you refrain from not whining to make him move. You spent the past few weeks blatantly ignoring Jaehyun, and now you are acting like you're going to die if he doesn't fuck you within a minute. "Move, please."

Jaehyun pulls out until only the head is still inside, and he snaps his hips. "Oh fuck." he growls. His voice is deep, and sultry, and it makes your head spin. You wrap your arms around his neck, and pulls his face to yours for a long kiss, it's only teeth and tongue but you don't care. The pace of his thrusts is fast, and you grip Jaehyun's hair between your fingers. He moans lowly at the pain, and it's a sound you don't think you can get enough of.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun ..” you mewl when he snaps his hips a little harder. You let your legs drop from around his waist, and you already feel that familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. You want to reach your climax as much as you want this moment to last forever. You grip his biceps, and when he gives a rather deep thrust, you dig your nails into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Black blood.

Jaehyun curses under his breath, and you close your eyes. You who didn't want to wake Ten up know it was a waste of time, between your moans, Jaehyun's growls and the bed banging against the wall. Poor guy, he might give you a piece of his mind later, but you don't have time to think about it, too busy getting lost in pleasure. His rhythm is erratic, he must be close to his orgasm too.

"Are you going to cum for me, my princess?" he asks, and you nod. Jaehyun bites the skin of your neck, once more, and that's enough to make you black out. You see nothing, and hears nothing more than the beating of your heart and Jaehyun saying over and over that you are his, and only his. "I will never let anyone approach or hurt you. Mine."

When you regain consciousness Jaehyun is still inside you, but his movements are slow, coming down from his high. Your thighs are shaking, and you are sticky with sweat. Jaehyun lies on top of you, being careful not to crush you with his weight, and you run your hands on his back to stroke his burning skin. "It was good, so good." you whisper and he nods.

You remain silent, both far too busy coming back on earth after a mindblowing orgasm.

"I hate you !" the voice comes from the next room, Ten's. And you look at each other before laughing softly. Jaehyun comes out, and you scrunch your nose up at the feeling of emptiness, and at the sticky cum sliding down your thighs. "I'm tired." you mumble in a sleepy voice. You do not know what Jaehyun does next, all you know is that when you open your eyes a little later, Jaehyun is behind you, your legs are tangled, and his breathing is regular. You go back to sleep peacefully after that.

"You fucked a demon."

This is not what you expected when you left your room this morning. Your legs are numb, and your neck is painful from Jaehyun's many bites. Ten is on the couch, his laptop poised precariously in his lap. "I fucked a demon." you repeat, sitting down next to him.

"I didn't think you could fall so low." he says with a sigh, and you turn your gaze to Ten with a frown. You have had one-night stands with various kind of students students, and he never had the nerve to make that kind of comment. It's strange coming from Ten, but after all he's right, he's a demon, not just some stupid college student who sells drugs to pay for his porn's subscriptions.

"Oh, don't be like that Ten." you sigh, and he shrugs, refocusing on his computer. After a minute or two, you nudge him to get his attention. "Have you heard from Johnny?" you ask, suddenly curious about the condition of the poor boy who was unlucky enough to run into Jaehyun.

"Johnny? Why? Did you see him somewhere?" Ten puts his computer on the coffee table, and he turns to you. He's not making fun of you, he's serious when he talks. "What do you mean ?" you ask, trying to control the tremors in your voice. "No one has seen Johnny since the party."

The news hits you like a slap in the face, you thought he would be on his feet with a few missing memories, not that he would be actually missing. You get up from the couch, and without a word for Ten, you head for the bedroom. Jaehyun is still sleeping, so you pick up a pillow and swings it over him.

"Jaehyun, wake up!" it takes him several minutes to open his eyes, frowning. After a night like the one you had just spent, he expected a sweet awakening, and a few kisses, not being hit with a pillow. "What? What's going on?" you cross your arms against your chest. "Johnny. What have you done to Johnny? No one's seen him since..since the party!"

Jaehyun sits up, resting his back against the headboard. He rubs his eyes, and he takes his sweet time waking up before opening his mouth. "I did the right thing." if he thinks you are going to be satisfied with that answer, he is wrong. "The right thing? The right thing was to call an ambulance, not make him disappear! Where is he?" your voice is more urgent but you have to be silent so as not to attract Ten's attention.

"Why are you so interested in that?" he asks in a cold, sharp voice. He gets up from the bed with a smooth and graceful movement, and he walks towards you until you are locked between his body and the wall. "Do you like him? Is that why?" you shake your head, avoiding his threatening gaze. "Don't say such things! I don't like him, I just want to know why you did that!"

A low growl is heard, and if you could, you would try to become one with the wall. You squeak when Jaehyun's fingers rest around your throat. He takes a step forward, and he's so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "You're mine, Y/n, I did what it took to keep him from coming back. And I would do it again. Again, and again. Until you figure out you don't need nobody. You only need me, do you understand me correctly? "

You grab his wrist as his grip tightens around your throat. You are already starting to feel the burning in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. "Jaehyun .. please I didn't mean to hurt you." your voice is weak, and so trembling that you wonder if he understood a single word of what you just said. "Mine." he growls before loosening his hold on your throat. You slide down the wall, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. You takes a long and difficult breath, it's extremely painful.

When you look up, Jaehyun is gone.

You feel stupid. You feel so silly for thinking that Jaehyun really loved you, and that you too could love him back. But you were wrong. It's not love Jaehyun has for you, it's an awful obsession. He doesn't show you what true love is, he manipulates you every day. And he knows how to do it, since you fell into his arms so easily after he ... after he killed Johnny.

Now that you have taken a step back, you realise that you should have been more vigilant, that you should have stayed with Johnny, and called someone yourself. You don't know what suddenly happened for you to give yourself to Jaehyun. Maybe that would have kept your life from turning into hell.

Jaehyun has made it his personal mission to make your life hell on earth.

He's always there, behind you, watching you rear, making sure no one is approaching you. When someone dares to approach you, you find yourself with blood on your clothes, and a corpse at your feet. Sad to say, but after a while you are no longer surprised. You no longer have nightmares, since nothing can be worse than your life.

Today is no different.

You woke up in Jaehyun's arms, feeling like you chest was crushed in a vise. Feeling his breath against the back of your neck is a sensation that you can't stand anymore. His hands give you chills when you thinks of all the blood they have shed. His smile is no longer angelic. And his laugh? You hear it everywhere you go. You can't do that anymore.

Lucky for you, Ten is the only person he hasn't touched yet. But for how long ? Ten is also the only person who can keep you grounded. Whenever he sees you falling back into your bad habit of letting yourself be bewitched by Jaehyun's sweet words, he is there to slap some sense into you, to remind you that you are better than that. If Ten wasn't there, you do not know where you would be.

When Jaehyun's grip on your waist loosens, you take the opportunity to slip out of bed. You take the clothes you had prepared the day before and leave the room. In the bathroom, you take a shower to get rid of the invisible dirt you feel every time Jaehyun puts his hands on you. You get dressed, and you find Ten in the kitchen. He's drinking a cup of coffee, and when he sees your face, he hands you his cup. You need it more than him.

"Are you sure ?" he asks, and you nod. Yes, you are sure, you have no other choice. "You can count on me." you walk up to Ten and places a kiss on his cheek, then turns on your heels. You put on your shoes, and after taking a long breath, you leave the apartment. You're not working today, otherwise you should have been planning this for another day.

When Jaehyun wakes up, he is surprised to be alone. The place next to him is cold, which means that you were long gone. He stands up, and he leaves the room. He searches the apartment, but all he finds is Ten and the disapproving look on his face. "Where is she ?" he asks and Ten shrugs. "She said she had to see a co-worker." that's enough to put Jaehyun in pure rage. Ten swallows hard as Jaehyun disappears, leaving behind that sickening smell of burning that he cannot get rid of. This is time for him to do something.

Doyoung is already waiting in front of the cafe when you arrive, and he smiles when he sees you. You approache, and you accept the hug he offers you. He's noticed that you haven't been yourself lately, and while he doesn't know the real reason behind this change in behavior, he's ready to help. Poor thing.

"You look tired." he says, and you sigh. You could cry, and fall into Doyoung's arms if you wanted to, but you can't, not now. "I am. Do you mind if we have coffee at my place? Ten is at work." he nods, of course he doesn't mind. You take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. This feeling is now foreign to you who are used to the constant heat of Jaehyun's body, so feeling Doyoung's cold fingers is like comfort to you. Normality still exists.

The walk to the apartment is short. You make conversation with Doyoung who is completely oblivious to what is happening. You feel it. You feel Jaehyun behind you. You feel the holes he drills in your back with his gaze. You could even hear his heartbeat if you wanted to, heart ready to come out of his chest.

"After you." he says, like a gentleman, when you open the front door of the apartment. The apartment is empty, as you thought. Kind of. You walk towards the living room after letting go of Doyoung's hand, and you instantly miss the contact. You crave normal physical contact from a human being, it's crazy. "You want some coffee ?" he nods.

You walk to the kitchen, your hands resting on the edge of the counter, and you breathe slowly. You are ready to throw up, you are so nervous. Immediately, you find yourself leaning forward on the counter, one hand resting on you head to keep you from moving. "What do you think you're doing?" you've never heard Jaehyun be so threatening, yet he has been in the recent weeks. It's the last straw for him.

"I'm not doing anything Jaehyun, please let me go." the countertop tile is cold against your cheek, but it helps you keep your head in check. "You're really trying to make me angry! You haven't understood yet that you don't need anyone but me. I'm sure it's Ten, I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago. He's the one keeping you away from me." he releases the pressure on your head, and he walks to the living room.

When Doyoung's gaze lands on Jaehyun, he frowns. He certainly didn't expect the boy to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up to him. "She's mine." the rest is a mix of screams and blood splashing on the walls. You watch the scene, and you don't move. You cry, you can't help it, and a sob escapes your lips when Doyoung's gaze meets yours one last time. "I'm sorry." you articulate. You had no other choice.

Jaehyun drops Doyoung's limp body, and he turns to you. He is about to take a step forward when he finds himself blocked by an invisible force field. "What is happening ?" he growls. He tries to move, but he is unable to come out of this small circle protected by something that is drawing a lot of energy from him.

"It's the only solution, Jaehyun." you murmur, voice broken by another sob. You look at the ground, and Jaehyun follows your gaze. He was so angry that he hadn't noticed the absence of the coffee table in the living room, and the white chalk drawing on the dark wood floor. A pentacle was drawn there by Ten when you went out to retrieve your victim. "Why why !" he screams, and you take a step back.

You know he can't reach you, you spent hours researching it, the best way to trap a demon, and yet you can't help but feel your organs tighten with fear. "I can't do this anymore, Jaehyun." Jaehyun punches his fists against the invisible force field, and the more he does so, the redder his eyes turn. If you get close, you're sure you could see the flames of the underworld reflecting.

"I love you, Y/n! I love you more than .." he starts, but you cut him off. "Yes, more than anyone will ever be able to love me. But that's not love, Jaehyun." you can't describe the anger you reads on the demon's face. "I've killed for you baby, who else could say that?" he's using a nickname you liked for a while, but that only reinforces your decision. "Killing for me wasn't the best way to prove me your love."

"I killed an angel for you! I killed an angel to be with you!" you open your eyes wide to his words. "You- you killed my guardian angel." he nods, a proud expression on his demonic face. So everything that happened was not because of a mistake, but because Jaehyun wanted to be with you. Because he needed to be near you. "You are a monster."

This is the obvious. Jaehyun laughs and you feel your blood boiling inside of you. "Ten, you can come, it's okay." The apartment was not really empty, Ten was hiding in his room waiting for the signal. He stops in front of Jaehyun, and he can't help but smile when he sees that the demon can't reach him. "Oh, the poor little demon can't do anything, that's too bad." you roll your eyes, of course Ten was going to tease him.

It is your turn to approach the pentacle on the ground, and Jaehyun. Despite all the anger in his eyes, you can also see how much love he has for you. And you know that no one can ever love you as much as he does, that's right. But you don't mind, you don't need love like that. You need pure love that will never hurt you. If you can ever trust someone after that.

"You know, for a while, I really thought I could love you, Jaehyun." you explain in a tender voice. "But you're nothing but a monster, you don't deserve to be loved. And you don't deserve to love. At least here you won't hurt anyone anymore." you look at the demon whose face break into something you can't explain, an expression you had never seen on him. It looks like..understanding, pain, and mixed with that natural anger. It's the last time you'll ever see this face, and deep down, it hurts, but it's for the better. You leave the living room.

Ten is in front of the door, with the suitcases you packed the day before. You are ready to start a new life, far from here, far from Jaehyun and the blood he shed in this city of doom. You open the door, and you and Ten walk out of the apartment. The last thing you hear before the elevator door closes are Jaehyun's screams. He is begging for release, begging for forgiveness, promises he can never keep.

"It's you and me against the world, once again." Ten says, and he takes you hand. Yes, it's just the two of you now. You, and a trapped demon.

Trapped, but for how long ?

[aquaticstyles]

unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane 

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

[satorinni]

𝕞𝕦𝕥𝕖

track 18: feelings?

Kenma has never really been a people person. Yeah, over the years he’s gotten better with ‘human interaction’ , but he would still prefer to be alone. There were very few people whose company he didn’t mind, and recently he had been contemplating whether you should be added to the list. Though that idea has been teetering in and out of his mind given the fact you two hadn’t actually hung out in person.  Actually, save for the one pants-less interaction, neither of you had ever been in the same room together. But still, he kinda likes you. More than a friend, he’d like to think. Though the idea scared the fuck out of him, he would actually like to take you on a real date. One that didn’t result in your dinner being up in flames. 

Maybe he’d even take you to a cutesy café in Tokyo. Like the one he was currently sitting in. Eating apple pie. Across from a girl. A girl who definitely wasn’t you. 

“Honestly, I don’t know why you didn’t just become a model.” After the photoshoot, Etsuko insisted on getting a bite to eat. Something about wanting to catch up because it’s been a whole year. He didn’t really understand why, he knew for a fact Kuroo called her every time something juicy happened to him. Whatever that meant. Besides, he couldn’t turn down a slice of his favorite food.

“Because wearing stupid clothes and standing in front of a camera for hours is not my ideal career, ‘Tsuko.” He took another bite of what was left of his slice. He’s glad he chose to sit in a booth away from the windows, he had already been recognized twice on the way here. It’s why he did his best to avoid walking through the city. Especially dressed like this.

“C’mon, Kenmaaaa, the button up is cute. You look like a businessman.” She snorts through her smoothie straw. 

“I am a businessman. I’m quite literally a CEO.” He gives her a deadpan stare before taking a sip from his own milkshake. “I don’t know how your rooster boy manages to wear this stupid getup 24/7. I’m suffocating in these slacks.” He’d been pulling at the tight-fitting pants all day, but the magazine suggested he look professional for the shoot.

“What’s the matter, Kenma? Too much junk in the front?” Etsuko wiggles her eyebrows at him. She always did have the dirtiest mind. 

“Gross, ‘tsuko.” He squints at her and shakes his head. 

“Speaking of your little fella, when was the last time you got laid, baby boy?” Despite her suggestive tone, Kenma knew she was genuinely curious. She was the one who told him what sex was anyway. Gross, he shudders at the memory. 

“Is that an offer, ‘Tsuko?” He knew it wasn’t, and he knew even if it was the answer would be no, but he was deflecting. 

“Only if you let me post it on the hub.” She winks at him and slurps at her empty cup for emphasis. “Quit deflecting, Kenma, I heard about your lil boo thang.” She cracks up at her own joke and asks the waiter for a refill. 

Kenma scrunches his nose in disgust. “Don’t call her that.” Yeah, you guys weren’t dating, and yeah, you probably didn’t even know he liked you, but still. 

“Look at you, defending her honor, how sweet.” She mockingly shakes her head at every word. “I heard you stole her from little rooster boy.” She leans in towards him, like it was some big secret.

“Of course he exaggerated that, he’s the one who set her food on fire. Besides, she texted me first.” He recounts the way he freaked the fuck out when he saw you texted him. His demeanor was always more calm over the internet, probably why he had millions of fans, but he was still an antisocial wreck IRL.

“Ahh, so she’s ballsy, huh. Who knew little Kenma liked bold girls? Tell me about her.” She leans her head into her palm. To anyone else she would’ve dropped it already, losing interest. But this was Kenma, she was always poking her nose into his business. 

“She’s a med student, same age as me. Friend of a friend, I guess. “ He shrugs. He figured that would keep her dormant enough to change the subject. 

“You got yourself a smarty pants. Cute, but that’s not what I wanted to know.” She raises her eyebrow at him. “Do you like her? Is this just a hump and dump? You gonna marry her?” Her eyes got wider with every question, it kinda freaked him out. 

Damn, he thought he could dodge it, but Etsie has always been super pushy. “I don’t know. I mean I'm definitely not gonna hit it & quit it. I haven’t even hung out with her for real.  And dude, I’m 23, m’not thinking about marrying anyone at the moment.” He held his breath and figured that was enough. He was not ready to admit it out loud yet.

“Ah ah ah, you skipped a question, baby boy.” She gives him a devilish grin and leans in even closer. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Okay, even if she was a bit much, Etsuko never spilled Kenma’s secrets. To anyone. Not even Kuroo. But it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. It was just... Was he ready to admit he had feelings? It's only been a few months, and he hadn’t even spoken to you in person. So what if he texted and called you 24/7? Wouldn’t it be too early? You’d probably be freaked out if he went ahead and confessed his feelings so early on. 

Ah, fuck it. 

“Yeah, ‘Tsuko. I like her. Like a lot. She’s funny as hell, smart as shit, and she gets me. Plus she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Like, prettier than you.” He knows that would probably offend any other girl, but he was only ever straight up with ‘Tsuko.

“EEK!” Etsuko lets out a pig squeal that has other customers staring in confusion. She balls her fists up and starts shaking aggressively. “My baby boy has a crush! EEK! I’m so proud of you.” She leans over the whole table and grabs Kenma’s face, placing a loud kiss on his forehead. 

He flicks her forehead and smiles. “Shut up, it’s not like this is the first crush I’ve ever had.”

“I take pride in being your first crush, little bro.” She places her hand on her chest in mock pain, but the grin on her face exposes itself. 

“When you put it like that it sounds like incest. I was 8, you weirdo. ” Both were true, when Kenma first met Etsuko he developed a crush on her. (Mostly because she was the only girl who he’d ever interacted with.) It only lasted a month anyway; he eventually got annoyed with how much her and her brother were at his house. Now, after 15 years of being stuck with Kuroo, Kenma could only ever see them both as the siblings he never had. 

“Still, I was your first love, Kenma.” She looks off dramatically into the distance, as if she was having a flashback.

“You’re gay.” The smirk on his face gives off his slight amusement with her stupidly dramatic antics. 

“Now, “ She slams her hands on the table, causing more people to stare and the silverware to rattle, “Aren’t you going to ask me about my lovelife?” 

“No, I don’t care.” He snorts at the hurt look on her face. 

“Well, my girlfriend is doing WONDERFUL, Kozume Kenma, thanks for asking.” She crosses her arms and sticks her nose in the air.

“Yeah, whatever, you’re paying.” He pulls out his phone to see if there are any texts from you. On cue, the notification on his phone displays your name. He grins down at the unopened text, not even bothering to hide his happiness from Etsuko. 

Mid-rant about how he should pay because he’s got all the money, she stops and stares at him. A soft smile appears on her face, a swell of pride shoots through her. She only ever saw Kenma as a baby brother, and was genuinely happy for his growth over the years. 

Suddenly, Kenma’s phone flashes with your contact, a facetime call from you. 

“I gotta take this.” He moves to sit up, but looks up at Etsuko at the last second. 

She grins and nods towards the door. 

“Go get em, tiger.”

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: kozume kenma x medstudent!f!reader

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: send an ask to be added!

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: enroute to being a neurosurgeon, y/n l/n doesn’t have time for fun, let alone dating. after her friends set her up on a blind date gone wrong, she comes face 2 face with none other than her date’s best friend. her world flips on axis, and suddenly she has no idea how her brain works, or love-at-first-sight.

𝕒/𝕟: this was probably rlly poorly written LMFOAD

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[slytherinsnekxvii]

i've been thinking about sirius black and grimmauld place and how much he hates it. so, here have this little fic i wrote about my take on that, just to get myself back into the swing of things now that real life has let up a little bit. warning for awful parenting that might hit a little too close to home before it goes off the rails, walburga and orion saying some really horrible things, and a stinging hex:

By the time Sirius gets his Hogwarts letter, Regulus has mastered the art of performing. He's much better than Sirius was—is—and Sirius wonders how much of that comes from Regulus seeing him make the simplest of mistakes and face the consequences. He wonders when he realised that he's being made an example.

He draws a knee up to his chest, idly twirling a quill between his fingers as his stomach grumbles. He ignores it. He's been sent to bed without supper enough times now that it hardly matters. He scratches two more lines of I will be obedient into the parchment and he thinks about Regulus some more.

He doesn't like the kid, sometimes. Envies him, even. There are things he does that Sirius finds maddening. Regulus has never spoken an original thought his life, follows every instruction given to him, willingly backs himself into corners and he refuses to put up a fight, unless he's the one who started it and knows he can finish it. What makes it worse is that these are lessons that Sirius taught him and couldn't learn himself.

Keep your innermost thoughts close to your chest and if you must speak them, do it aside, address no one but yourself.

Follow orders. Let yourself be manhandled and coerced into position by those who can see the bigger picture.

Never turn your back to your audience.

Turn the other cheek and follow through.

It's bothersome. They have a perfect little heir right there, but they ignore him just to try and force Sirius to be what they want him to be. It's a waste of everyone's time, since they all know that round pegs do not fit into triangular holes. It's suffocating, since they try to do it anyway, shaving away at the bits and pieces that won't fit, hacking at the parts of him that don't mold to fit the shape that they've carved for everyone carrying the Black name. It's unfair, that he's stuck here like this, going to bed without supper, writing lines, of all things, and riding out the effects of a nasty session of "Occlumency training", which he is certain is just an excuse to rifle through his mind and give him a headache.

I will be obedient. I will be obedient. I will be obedient.

His hand moves on its own, the letters appearing on the page ever-so-slightly wobbly as he writes without bothering to look at the words. It's infuriating, the way they echo in his head over and over, and over, again.

He lifts his head when Kreacher appears before him with a crack, his horrid little house-elf face twisted into that familiar, ever-present cross between a grimace and a scowl. "What?" he asks, and somehow, the elf's expression sours even more.

"Mistress wants her lines," Kreacher says. "Mistress says Kreacher is to collect them from Master Sirius."

"I'm not done yet," Sirius snaps, and bites his tongue when the house-elf turns up his mouth in disapproval. He takes his time carving the last few sentences into the parchment, and while his penmanship is probably the greatest it's ever been, he still scowls at the paper even after it's been handed over.

Kreacher scowls back at him and disappears. Sirius rubs his ears and wonders if the elf Apparates that loudly on purpose.

I will be obedient. I will be obedient. I will be obedient. The stupid words spin around in his head, and he scowls harder as he considers that he could probably fill an entire sheaf of parchment in his sleep.

See if I ever turn out like the bloody show dog you want, he thinks, vehemently, and shoves aside the bits of stationery on his desk so he can collapse face-first and not think. There's another crack, and he startles, forcing himself upright as Kreacher stands before him, with his little, twisted house-elf face and little, twig-like house-elf arms crossed.

"What?" he bites, again, and when the elf's expression takes a turn for the worse, he leans back in his chair and doesn't bother shaking off the vindictive satisfaction that crawls up his spine.

"Mistress wants to see Master Sirius in Master Orion's study. Master Sirius is a bad boy," Kreacher tells him, and he fights the urge to slam his fist on the desk, or worse, into Kreacher.

"Why?" Sirius asks, and he knows exactly why, they only ever want him for one reason, they never call on him for anything else, at all, ever, but he still asks. He's not actually expecting anything different, but he does it, just to be difficult.

"Master Sirius has been a bad boy," Kreacher says.

"Right, yeah. Thought as much, really," Sirius tells him, and makes no move to get up from his seat.

"Mistress wants to see Master Sirius in Master Orion's study," Kreacher repeats, and Sirius scoffs at him.

"And what are you going to do about it?" he taunts, and the elf Disapparates. Sirius sneers a bit at the wall, sticks out his tongue as he mocks, "Master Sirius has been a bad boy." He scoffs, idly kicks at the leg of his desk. "Master Sirius has been Sirius. Master Sirius isn't Regulus."

He collapses onto the desk again, lets out a quiet, frustrated scream as his leg picks up the speed and kicks even harder. He takes a deep breath as the woods shudders beneath him and eventually gets his limbs back under control. "Master Sirius doesn't want to be told what to do," he mumbles into the wood. "Master Sirius is a person. Master Sirius doesn't want to be controlled," he continues, quiet, and is glad that his moping is drowned out by the sound of Kreacher Apparating into his bedroom once again.

"Mistress says Master Sirius is being difficult. Maater Sirius must come to the study at once," the elf says, and Sirius doesn't even bother to lift his head. "Master Sirius must come! Mistress insists!"

"Or what?" Sirius asks, tone as bitter and spiteful as his little eleven-year-old tongue can manage.

"Mistress says that Master Sirius must come to the study at once! Master Sirius is being a very bad boy! Horrible boy! Spiteful child!"

Sirius feels his eye twitch as he listens to the elf slowly dissolve into histrionics, wonders if he's listening to Kreacher, or his mother. "Master Sirius is just fine!" he says. "Master Sirius doesn't have to listen to you or be obedient or anything!"

"Master Sirius must go to the study!"

"No!" Sirius exclaims, and he does bang his fist on the desk, noticing far too late that Kreacher has gone silent. The realisation strikes him when his hand leaves the desk and a hand circles his wrist, grip ice-cold. "No..." he says, quiet, and horror takes him as he involuntarily tries to tear away from the hold. If anything, it tightens.

"You would disobey your parents, Sirius Orion?"

"I—" Sirius gasps, and forces himself to be as still as possible, as steady as he can manage even though he still finds himself shaking by the time he finds it in himself to continue. "No, Father, I—"

He won't hit you, Sirius thinks. He would never stoop so low, and he isn't holding his wand. He wouldn't hit you. He wouldn't. He would never. Not with his bare hands. Not without his wand.

His trembling ceases a little, and he starts to speak again. "No, Father, I—"

"Quiet. Your mother is calling for you, you wretched child. Why have you not attended to her?"

"I'm sorry—"

"Apologies mean nothing without action, young man. Do better," Orion stresses, and Sirius bends, head bowing as he prepares to reiterate his apology.

"I—"

"That was not an invitation to speak, Sirius Orion."

"Yes, Father. S—" he bites his tongue and tries not to listen to his heart slowly beating its way out of his chest.

"This is no behaviour to be exhibited by my heir. You will get up, and you will come with me to attend to your mother."

"Yes, Father," Sirius says, and swallows the fire building behind his tongue and under his fear.

The grip around his wrist loosens, and he moves it a little, just to make sure it's still there, still attached, still working and prepares to get up even as he hates himself for listening and his father for making him.

"Quickly, Sirius Orion. Your mother is waiting."

"Yes, Father," he says, and in his mind, he kicks himself for the meekness in his tone.

When he stands up on marginally less shaky legs, Orion moves to clap a hand on his shoulder to steady him and the sheer anticipation of the touch forces Sirius to stand at attention. He straightens his spine until it can go no further without snapping, and when Orion's hand actually lands on his shoulder, he has to concentrate to avoid flinching under the touch.

Orion taps his shoulder once, twice, and then grips it with the same force he'd used on Sirius' wrist. "Go on, then."

Sirius starts to move. Orion does not let up, steel grip still locked in place as it directs Sirius throughout the house. They pass Regulus' door, and Sirius fights the urge to sneer at it, with its stupid, pretentious sign protecting his stupid, pretentious baby brother who's probably asleep with a full belly and not a care in the world with Kreacher at his bedside to bend to his every whim. Stupid, lucky performer sticking to his script... poor little contest crup doing tricks for the judges.

Orion's grip on his shoulder tightens and Sirius hisses as he bends under the pressure. "I said, quickly, Sirius Orion. You would make your mother wait even longer for you than you already have?"

"No, I—" Sirius continues, tripping over his own feet as the his own movement ceases while his father continues to push.

"She's been patient all this time and you would leave her to sit alone and unattended to?"

"Father—"

"Ungrateful child," Orion rebukes and Sirius chokes.

"Yes, Father."

They enter the study quietly, Sirius standing at attention once more while Orion rounds the large desk to take his seat. Walburga crosses and uncrosses her legs in her nearby armchair, and clears her throat. She sits up, handa placed carefully atop each other in her lap and it's an image he's familiar with. She elegantly rolls her wand between her fingers and Sirius reminds himself to tread carefully, don't make a mistake, she's armed, even if this the most demure he's ever seen her.

"Siri."

"Yes, Mother," he answers.

"Why did you not come when I called?"

I didn't want to, I hate you, I hate you both, he thinks. I was scared, he thinks. "I don't know, Mother," he says.

"That isn't an answer, Sirius Orion. If you didn't know, you could have done as I asked of you and inquired it of me when you arrived."

You didn't bother to ask. You ordered, he thinks. "Yes, Mother," he says.

"Why did you not come when I called?"

I'm here, anyways, aren't I? "Kreacher was annoying me," he lies, or well, sort of. Kreacher had been annoying him, but that wasn't why he'd disobeyed. He bites his tongue when he watches their expressions shift.

"Kreacher... was annoying you," Walburga asks, tone flat.

"Yes, Mother," Sirius says.

"So, rather than banish him and do as you were told, you chose... to disobey me?" The uptick in her voice is dangerous, but her position remains the same and Sirius falls into the trap.

"I—sorry, Moth—agh!" The Stinging Hex hits his hand and he shakes it the appendage rapidly as he waits for the pain to abate. "Yes, Mother," he croaks, when his hand graduates from acute pain to slight numbness.

"Do better next time," Walburga tells him, rolling her thirteen inches of elm between her fingers. "Apologies are worthless, I know your father would have told you that much."

"Yes, Mother. I won't keep you waiting again, Mother," Sirius forces. You'll drag me kicking and screaming next time, he thinks.

"Words, again. Powerful, yes. Useful, yes... but that's only in the hands of those whose actions are able to prove it. You've not done so, Siri," Walburga continues, quiet, and this is how Sirius knows he's gone and done it.

His hands move to clench on their own, and his aching left convinces him to clasp them behind his back instead. His legs itch to move, to run away, to go anywhere but here. He wishes he had his broom.

"You disobey. You refuse to listen. You ignore our teachings. You blunder and stumble and do all manner of upsetting things, Siri. We feed you and clothe you and we provide a bed for you to rest your head when the night comes, and yet... you continue to act so horribly. You speak out of turn, you do everything in the exact wrong manner. If I didn't know better, I would think you were doing such awful things on purpose. To spite your father and I." Her eyes meet his and Sirius can't help it, he looks away. His father's lip curls and still, he refuses to look at her.

"You are a horrible child, Siri. Wicked and ungrateful and awful. You aren't worthless, though. You're the product of your father and I, after all. And you aren't incompetent or stupid. You can be taught, Siri. All you must do is listen, and obey. You can be trained and we will make you the wizard you were meant to be as our heir. You need not do anything but obey."

Sirius takes a breath, the cool air sticking in the back of his throat as he feels the hackles on the back of his neck raise. "I—You don't—"

"Don't... what, Sirius Orion?" his father asks.

Nothing, he thinks. "It's—I'm a person! You want an heir that you can teach and train and make, have Regulus! I don't—" he starts, and his eyes widen as he listens to the words spilling out of his mouth with no permission of his and no control over them at all.

"You are a wretched, horrible creature! Awful boy! Spiteful child! How dare you?" Walburga screeches, and Sirius winces, his own mouth clamping shut. "We are your family, your parents. You would disgrace your own blood in such a way? Horrible, awful child! Incompetent! Lazy! Stupid! Never learns! You are an awful creature! Terrible boy! Unworthy! I can hardly believe you came of my loins! We have been nothing but good to you! Awful child, waste of blood, Sirius Orion, how dare you?"

She's sprung out of her chair, elm wand held high in her hand as a weapon, and Sirius ducks even as he shouts.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't, I didn't, I was only angry," he pleads. "I won't do it again," he tells them, quietly, and as his mouth quivers, he tastes salt.

"See to it that you don't," Orion says, frigid even as he rests a hand on his wife's waist to steady her and glares at his firstborn. "I'll not have such an outburst taking place again."

Tell that to your wife, Sirius thinks bitterly, sniffing as quietly and unnoticeably as possible to stave off the rest of the tears he hadn't realised he was crying.

"Yes, Father," Sirius says.

"Get out," Orion tells him.

"Yes, Father," Sirius says, and with that, he turns around and leaves. Quietly, with some sort of dignity so they don't have another thing to hold over his head.

He passes Regulus' stupid door again, kicks it and watches as not even the sign shakes.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," he cries, quietly, as he continues down the hallway, with his voice warbling and his fist pounding against the wall as he goes. Regulus' face flashes through his mind, and then his mother's, his father's, his own. Coward, he spits, inaudible, and the word is coated in every bit of venom he's capable of. "I hate you," he says to the empty air, and not even he can tell who he's trying to address.

[cassiabaggins]

First Born

A/N: Kiliel week has finally come to a close! I had a lot of fun writing these and I wanna say a special thank you to @anjhope1 for being an amazing beta reader and getting me out of more than one slump! I have a super short bonus story I might post as well if anyone is interested. Also, the character Minasel does not belong to me, she’s the creation of @deathlikessodaandpizza and I included her as a little treat. You can read her story here if you are interested! Again, thank you all for your help and comments! I hope you enjoy this final part!

First          Masterlist

Wordcount: 3k

Tags: @anjhope1 @deathlikessodaandpizza @guardianofrivendell @myrin1234 @wettomatodude @lothloriien @annkdarar @artsywaterlily @hmmm-what-am-i-doing @drowingintheempty @estethell @claraofthepen @kilielweek

Warnings: pregnancy, implied smut

Summary: Kili and Tauriel prepare for the birth of their first child, only they can’t decide on a name!

"Kili," Tauriel says one evening. "I want a baby."

Kili, sitting on his desk across the room, immediately stiffens, his back going ramrod straight. Then, he slowly turns around and just… stares at her, his brown eyes as round as saucers. He doesn't say anything, just stares, and the resulting silence is almost suffocating. 

Tauriel shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, waiting for him to say something. It seems like he might, a few times, opening his mouth, and then closing it, and then opening it again, but he never speaks. She bites her lip. Probably should have approached this more delicately. "Kili?" She asks. He starts, like her voice has snapped him back to reality. 

"Sorry," he says, suddenly standing up, "I just… now?"

Tauriel nods determinedly. No backing down now. "Yes. Now. I'm ready now."

Kili blinks. Suddenly, he's closing the distance between them, throwing off his shirt, and kissing her all at once. Tauriel bursts out laughing and welcomes his enthusiasm- they know it will be a long night. 

.

Upon waking the next morning, she immediately knows it worked. She can sense, somehow, a tiny life beginning to grow inside her. It's what Kili would call a 'spooky elf power', to just know, right away, but she just… does. She places her hand on her stomach and turns her head to look at her husband. Kili is a messy sleeper, as usual, all sprawled out, the blankets barely covering his naked body. He's matured past the young dwarf Tauriel met in Mirkwood, having grown into his body much more, thickening out from the gangly (for a dwarf) young idiot she fell in love with, a longer beard and several scars also being obvious indicators of the passage of time. Tauriel scoots closer to him and rests her head on his chest, the weight of it waking him. Kili tenses up in a stretch and a yawn, extending his arms above his head, and then wrapping them around her. 

"G'mornin'," he mumbles, rubbing her bare shoulder with one large, rough hand and pressing a sleepy kiss to the top of her head.

"Good morning," she replies. 

"Wha' time izzit?" 

"Early. The sun has not yet risen."

"Amrâlimê," he groans, grabbing the edge of the blanket and yanking it up to his shoulder. "Why did you wake me up? I can sleep in today!"

Tauriel bites back a soft laugh, helping him by pulling the other edge of the cover up and gently rubbing his chest. "I did not mean to. I apologize."

He lets out a wordless grumble, rolling them both over so he's snuggled up against her front, face against her chest, arms around her middle, and legs tangled with hers. "You're lucky I love you. Any other dwarf would protest quite heartily to an elvish witch waking them up before the sunrise."

"Elvish witch?" She asks with fake indignation.

Kili has the audacity to giggle in reply and she tugs at one of the braids that was left in his hair from yesterday. He lets out a shaky breath at that.

"I'm trying to sleep, witch."

"Are you?" She asks cheekily.

"Yes!" He untangles from her and rolls away to the very edge of the mattress, but Tauriel follows him, pressing her body up against his back.

"Kili," she whispers. "It worked."

"What worked?" He grumbles, trying to hide under the blankets. She chuckles and slides her arm around his middle, worming her hand under his arm until he lifts it to let her in. 

"I'm pregnant," she murmurs in his ear. Kili goes still again. Then, he snorts. 

"You're teasing me. You have no idea if it worked. Not yet at least."

"Oh, don't I?"

"Of course not. That's impossible."

"Mhm. Well. We could always try again, I suppose, just to make sure."

The speed at which he rolls over and on top of her is honestly impressive and she finds herself laughing into his mouth.

.

“I was being serious,” she says as they fall apart on the mattress, sweaty and sated. Kili looks over at her, wiping his bangs off his brow. 

“What?”

“I was being serious. About being pregnant.”

Kili gapes at her, his eyes as wide as saucers. Then he sits bolt upright. “You were?!”

“Of course I was! Why would I joke about that?!”

“I don’t know!”

Kili covers his face. “Sweet Mahal. I’m going to be a father. Already. Y’know, I thought we’d have to try a few times at least! I didn’t think we’d get it in one go-- wait, how do you even know?!”

Tauriel props herself up on her elbow, thinking. “I don’t know. I just... do.”

He nods. “Fair enough.” He takes his hands off his face and looks at her. “We better start thinking about names.”

“Oh, we have time, meleth nin, don’t fret. We’ve a whole year to plan and get ready.”

“That doesn’t seem like enough time,” Kili mumbles. 

“We did have several years before this,” She teases. 

…

They don’t start thinking about names until a few months in, nor do they tell others about the pregnancy. The reaction from family and friends is ecstatic and the two of them are practically overwhelmed with well wishes and gifts and birthing advice and baby care tips. Tauriel finds herself quite glad that many of the dwarves are still cautious around her, especially when Cassia informs her bluntly that she very well might have perfect strangers come up to her and try to touch her belly the instant she starts showing. And that does not sound fun. Neither does the cravings or aches or morning sickness…  For the most part, though, Tauriel is truly enjoying the experience of it. Her body is growing a tiny life! There is a baby inside her, living and developing and moving! She thinks it is beyond amazing and never passes up an opportunity to gush about it. 

.

As the pregnancy progresses, they start thinking more seriously about names in between preparations.  Kili has been insistent on a dwarven name, while Tauriel quite likes the idea of an elvish one. 

"What are you thinking about?" She asks her husband one evening before bed. Kili is smoking his pipe and Tauriel is trying her best to knit a baby blanket. He blows a smoke ring thoughtfully. 

"Names for our baby," he says. "I think it'll be a girl, so I've been thinking of girl names."

"Oh have you?" Tauriel asks, smiling. In her brief distraction she drops a stitch and frowns. This is harder than Dis and Cassia make it look. 

He nods. "It’s tradition for the Durin line to give lasses names that end in "-is". My mother is Dis, my sister is Rhís, my great aunt was called Frís, and so on." He takes another drag from his pipe, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that lets Tauriel know he's been thinking quite hard about this. 

"What have you come up with?" She queries, carefully unravelling and fixing her mistake. 

"Eydís," Kili says. "It means 'good fortune' and she'll be our little treasure. What do you think?"

Tauriel frowns and lowers her knitting into her lap. "Well..." she says but is interrupted as Kili points his pipe at her in a joking manner. 

"You don't like it,” he declares.

Tauriel hems and haws, not wanting to hurt his feelings. It’s a nice enough name, but not exactly what she had in mind.

"It's not that I don't like it, I just… I've gotten rather attached to the name Minasel."

Kili squints. “Minasel? What does that even mean?”

“It means tower of stars. I was thinking, since I want her to rise above all opposition…” She trails off, seeing the unimpressed look on Kili’s face, feeling anger flare. “Well! It’s better than Eydis!”

The argument about names does halt for the entirety of the pregnancy, Tauriel will say how little Minasel is being especially active today, or Kili will rub her belly and ask how little Eydis is that day, and from there the same repetitive argument will begin again. Both parents are exceedingly stubborn, and if one would give in, the other would have to give in just on principle and argue that the other name was much  better than their idea. “No, really, it's a lovely name!”  One will say. And the other will reply, “Well, I like the name you picked better!” And then they'd be right back at square one. 

.

"What if you never decide on a name?" Fili asks one evening. The two brothers and their families are having a day off together, gathered in the large sitting room in the royal apartments.  Kili shrugs. 

"Then we hope the baby is a boy," he replies.

"And if it's not?"

Kili frowns. "Uhm…"

"How did you come up with the names for your children?" Tauriel asks her brother in law. “Didn’t you two ever argue about that?” Fili, bouncing his middle child, a lad named Kirin, on his knee, shrugs. 

"Not exactly. Cassia's only request was our first daughter be named after her mother, and mine was that our first son be named for Thorin."

"What if you never have a daughter?" Kili challenges, "what then?"

"She thinks we will."

"I know we will!" Fili's wife, Cassia, enters the room, holding the littlest child in her arms. The infant, named Arnin, has just woken up from his nap, and blinks sleepily at them all over her arm, sucking on his fingers. "I just have a feeling our next will be a girl."

"After three boys?" Tauriel asks. Cassia sits down beside her friend and hands her the infant. Tauriel coos at him and tickles his stomach.

“I want at least eight children,” the Queen says, leaning back in her seat. “I’ve decided.”

"Eight?! You already have a preposterously large family with less than half that number!" Kili splutters. 

“It’s how many she wants,” Fili says, as if that’s a perfectly valid reason.

"Nuncle Kili?" Fili and Cassia's oldest, Thorin, tugs on his uncle's pant leg. He had been playing on the floor. "What does proptserisly mean?"

"Preposterously," Kili corrects him gently, bending down to be at his level. "It means absurd or foolish."

"Oh. Are we pre...pre… prepops…"

"Preposterous?"

"Yes. Are we?"

"Indeed," Kili says, scooping him up into a hug. "Beyond a doubt!" 

Thorin giggles and hugs him. "Mama!" He shouts, "we're propsterus!"

Cassia gives him a blank look. She hadn't been listening, busy talking with Tauriel. "Are we?"

"Nuncle Kili said so!"

“Kili, stop teaching him long words he can’t pronounce,” Fili says as Kili sets Thorin back down. The child runs to his mother and climbs into her arms. 

“I’m improving his vocabulary!”

“Kili, he’s barely nine, when is he ever going to use the word preposterous?”

Tauriel laughs as the brothers argue, stroking Arnin’s curly hair. “If our baby is anything like this little pebble, I don’t think we have any cause to worry about them taking after Kili.” 

Cassia fakes a shudder of horror. “Another Kili, running around causing havoc? That’s awful!”

The two of them giggle. 

.

The months pass all in a rush, but also nowhere near fast enough and near the end Tauriel is well and truly fed up with being pregnant and Kili is desperate to meet his child.

The day of the birth, Tauriel goes into labor in the very early morning, and Kili sprints off to fetch the midwife. His mother and sister in law come to help with the birth. He is permitted to give his wife a kiss but is then promptly booted out the door to spend the time with Fili and his boys in their apartments, waiting with bated breath.

“Would you sit down and relax?” his brother says, blowing a smoke ring from his pipe. 

“No! I cannot! I don’t know how you can expect me to sit down and relax when my wife is giving birth!” Kili shoots back and continues to pace. Fili raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You’ll be pacing like that for a long time.”

“How long, adad?” Thorin asks sleepily, leaning against Fili’s side. He had awoken from the commotion of Cassia leaving and, despite the early hour, had been too excited to go back to bed, so Fili had permitted him to stay up. 

“It depends,” he says, rubbing Thorin’s head. “It took all day for you to be born, so probably about the same.” The lad groans. 

“All day?! But I wanna meet the baby now!”

“So does your uncle, but we’re all going to have to wait.” 

After about half an hour, Thorin drops off to sleep and Fili tucks a blanket around him before walking over to stand next to his younger brother. “Here,” he says, offering his pipe. “You need this.”

Kili takes the pipe and inhales, letting the pipeweed calm his nerves and still the shaking in his hands. 

“How long has Tauriel been having pains?” Fili asks, “Do you know?”

“She said she was beginning to feel it when we went to bed last night. She didn’t want to sleep but told me to.” Kili chews worriedly at the end of the pipe. “I feel like I should be there, helping her or something! I’ve never seen her in so much pain, Fi! Her face,” he waves his hand in front of his own, “was just white. I want to help her, Fili! I need to help her!” Kili cries, before placing his head in his hands.

“You’d probably get in the way if you tried,” Fili says bluntly. He places his hands on his brother’s shoulders and the weight grounds Kili, “Nothing will happen to her, she’ll be fine. You just have to relax.”

Kili looks up at Fili. “Are you sure?” He asks nervously. Fili nods.

“Of course I’m sure. Tauriel is one of the strongest people I know.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Dwalin I said that, though. He’d get indignant.”

That manages to make Kili let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders fading away. Fili is right. Tauriel will be fine.

.

After what seems like an age, Cassia returns to fetch Kili and bring him to Tauriel. Right before he enters the room, he stops on the threshold, suddenly nervous. His sister in law turns back to him when she notices he’s not beside her anymore. She trots back to him and frowns, giving him a little shove toward the door.

“Are you going in or not? Go! Go see your wife!” Kili stumbles through the doorway and hurries into the room. Tauriel is sitting up in bed, holding a little bundle. She looks exhausted, her face drawn and her forehead sweaty, but her sunlight smile is beaming across her face. She is clearly happier in this moment, despite her pain and weariness, than she has ever been before.  

"Would you like to meet your daughter?" Tauriel asks him. Kili is at her side in an instant, nodding. As he moves across the room, he vaguely notices the midwife and his mother off in the corner doing something, but he doesn't exactly care about them. He only cares about his wife and his newborn child. He sits on the edge of the bed and Tauriel leans against his shoulder, moving the blanket slightly so Kili can clearly see the face of his firstborn. The little baby has his eyebrows and nose and a full head of dark red hair, and tiny, pointed ears.

“Hello there,” he whispers, reaching out and touching that miniscule nose. The baby murmurs a bit in her slumber, her eyebrows drawing down in a surprisingly intense glare for a newborn. Kili feels tears burn at the back of his throat.

 “Isn’t she perfect?” Tauriel says, smiling down at the baby, “Our little Minasel.”

Kili looks up from admiring his newborn daughter with a frown on his face. “Minasel?”

“Doesn’t it fit her perfectly?”

“But I wanted to name her---”

“Are you two still fighting over that?” Dis sighs, turning around. “Here, Kili, this is Eydis.”

Quite suddenly, Kili is being handed a second baby. Luckily, he’s held his nephews enough to know exactly how to position his arms and support her head and he does so almost on instinct. This baby is smaller than Minasel, completely bald atop her head, but just as is typical of dwarven babies, has a beard, soft and strawberry blonde.

“Twins?!” Kili shouts. “We had twins?!” Minasel and Eydis, startled by their father’s loud voice, burst into tears. 

“Kili!” Tauriel and Dis scold, scrambling to quiet Minasel while Dis takes Eydis back to calm her. 

“Sorry!”

Soon, the babies are quieted, sleeping peacefully. The midwives finish their work and leave the new parents alone to bond with their children. Somewhere along the line, Kili and Tauriel had traded babies, and Kili is now holding Minasel. Tauriel is nursing Eydis (another thing that isn’t as easy as it looks) and Kili carries his eldest daughter over to the window to get a better look at her. She squints hard when the sunlight hits her face, screwing up into that glare again, and then slowly blinks open her eyes. Kili’s breath catches in his throat. “Hello,” he whispers. Minasel squints at him, then opens them wider. “She has my eyes,” he says softly to Tauriel and draws his daughter up to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She sighs and sinks back into peaceful sleep. 

“I’m glad she does,” Tauriel says, “I love your eyes. Eydis hasn’t opened hers, yet.”

Kili comes over to the bed. The smaller baby has finished nursing and is now laying peacefully in Tauriel’s arms, her eyes still squeezed shut. He sits down beside his wife and leans against her shoulder. “Can you show us your eyes, Eydis?” he whispers. To both their surprise, she squirms a bit and then blinks slowly. Her eyes are brown as well— wide, curious, and bright. She yawns hugely and makes a little noise that melts both their hearts. Kili beams. 

“They both have my eyes!” He says happily. 

“They do indeed,” Tauriel replies. “Here, why don’t we lay them next to each other?” She carefully sets Eydis on the bed and pats the space next to her tiny body. Kili lays Minasel down in the open space, and both babies immediately curl together as if they are still in the womb. Kili looks up and Tauriel with a tearful smile. 

“They’re perfect,” he says. Turning to his wife, he smiles softly, “You’re amazing, amrâlimê.”

She blushes a bit. Even after nearly a decade of marriage he still manages to fluster her with his sweet words. “Thank you, meleth nin,” she says.

He leans forward and kisses her gently. 

“Thank you for loving me,” she whispers and he smiles against her mouth. 

“As if I could do anything less, my starlight.” 

“That’s new,” she laughs.

“Aye, trying something out. What do you think?”

“I think ‘Starlight’ would better fit our little Minasel,” she replies honestly. 

“I think so too, but what about Eydis?”

“She’s a little gem, isn’t she?”

“Ithtir and Ibinê,” Kili says softly. Tauriel gives him a confused look. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Those can be their secret names, Ithtir and Ibinê, ‘Bright Star’ and ‘Little Gem’. Don’t you think they fit?”

Tauriel looks down at the twins, a soft smile on her face and sighs happily. 

“They’re perfect.”

[samusangel]

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚𓆟 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀; what happens when inarizaki’s sweetheart falls head over heels for renowned fuckboy miya atsumu?

⤿ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲; fluff, angst

⤿ 𝗮/𝗻; everyone has a kansai accent (the reader’s accent isnt that strong at times) so dont let ur brain get jumbled. enjoy <3

⤿ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴(??): swearing, SPOILERS!!

⤿ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k

𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗼 *̣̩⋆̩☽ 

y/l/n y/n, inarizaki’s very own angel. always bubbling with excitement, always smiling. her giggles often enchant the students of inarizaki; it’s like a glimpse into heaven.

never in a million years would they have thought she’d be friends with miya atsumu. inarizaki’s very own devil in disguise. your typical heartbreaker.

if it wasn’t for kita and suna’s constant begging for her to be the manager for the volleyball club, she’d probably not even talk to him.

“y/n-chan!”

you swiftly turn on your heel, stopping the current conversation you were having with aran. atsumu’s in front of you, panting. he must’ve been running here; you put a mental note in your brain to give him water later.

“thought i’d never catch up to ya. for a shorty, yer pretty quick.” atsumu’s smiling at you, it’s the same smile he gives to every other girl. you aren’t special to him, you’re just a fling waiting to happen.

you’ve been crushing on atsumu for quite a while. maybe it’s the affection he gives you? the other boys on the volleyball team give you brotherly love, you even call kita nii-san sometimes. but atsumu? his affection gave the intentions that he was interested in you. the same affectionate ways your friends’ boyfriends gave them. but you think again. this is miya atsumu, a playboy at it’s finest. he would never be interested in you, right?

“‘tsumu, i told ya not to call me shorty!” you lightly smack his arm, pouting.

“can’t resist it, yer too cute to not be called shorty. let’s go.” atsumu holds your hand as the two of you walk to the gym for practice.

“kita-nii!” you quickly let go of atsumu’s hand and run towards kita, hugging him.

“y/n-chan, it’s good to see you made it without you and ‘tsumu bitin each others’ heads off!” kita chuckles, patting your head as a signal to go get the surprise you had made for the team, aran getting up to go with you.

the moment you’re out of earshot, kita yells at atsumu.

“why’re ya late, ‘tsumu? thought ya said you’d make it on time today,” kita scoffs, thoroughly done with atsumu constantly being late the past month. nationals were coming up, he couldn’t have the team slacking, “don’t tell me it’s another one o’ ya dumb flings again.”

“was waitin for y/n-chan, she had to stay back and help some douche with his homework. tch, as if,” there was a certain jealously laced in his words, one that if you’d heard it you’re sure it would make your precious little heart burst.

“yer not much better, ya know.” osamu casually puts out, and he isn’t wrong. after all, atsumu isn’t given the title ‘playboy’ for nothing.

“‘samu, don’t be like that. i aint all that bad, right?” atsumu whines, frowning like a little kid about to have a temper tantrum.

“guys!! i have somethin’ for ya!” you walk back into the gym with aran, both holding a tray of baked goods.

“eh? y/n-chan, what’s that for?” the sweet smell of vanilla and strawberries wafts through the air, very quickly catching the inarizaki team’s attention.

“well.. you guys have been working really hard lately getting ready for nationals so i thought it’d be nice to bake you guys some sweets,” the team stared at her, wide-eyed. how did they get so lucky?

“o-oh but.. if ya guys don’t wan’ em-”

“y/n-chan, ya fuckin angel. we’re gonna eat all of these.” atsumu pulls you into a hug, your face smushed into his chest. you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but you ignore the fuzzy feeling and familiar butterflies swarming; simply letting atsumu do what he wanted.

“‘tsumu, let go! ya gotta eat before the rest of the guys eat em!” atsumu loosens his grip around you, changing his hold on you to his arm falling to your waist.

the team eat the trays of pastries you baked the night before, osamu and atsumu constantly fighting over the mini-cupcakes you made with the extra batter. osamu claims they taste better, while atsumu just wants an excuse to beat his brother at something. suna just quietly eats the vanilla cookies, thanking you for being so generous to the idiots on his team. aran and kita are just watching osamu and atsumu fight, munching on cornets.

atsumu usually doesn’t make it very far fighting with osamu, it seems keeping his hold on your waist is much more important to him. your heart flutters at the position you’re currently in; you sitting next to atsumu, your head resting softly on his shoulder. atsumu humming a soft little tune only for your ears to hear as he peacefully watches you play with his much larger hands.

“should i bake some more for tomorrow?” you ask, lifting your head from atsumu’s shoulder to start packing up the trays and cleaning any crumbs the boys left behind.

“if ya wanna, we’re not fussed.” aran smiles sweetly to you; you simply give a small smile back.

“alright, we’ll just skip practice for today. you’re all gonna practice extra tomorrow though,” kita chuckles hearing the disapproving groans from his teammates, “don’t worry, im sure y/n can think of a way to keep ya excited.”

“i’ll start thinkin of some fun activities we can do on the weekend!” you chirp, getting up to find your bag.

everyone starts piling out; you walking out eagerly chatting with osamu about a new recipe you’ve been dying to try. atsumu’s much larger hand engulfs yours as you and atsumu split ways from osamu since atsumu insisted he walk you home.

“’tsumu, you don’t have to walk me home. i’m not a lil’ kid anymore.” you smile at him, feeling a sense of euphoria at the fact he chose to walk you home instead of walking home with osamu.

“yer so innocent though, i swear someone could lure ya in with candy or somethin’.” atsumu laughs, watching the way your face goes from a soft smile to slightly confused to very offended.

“c’mon atsu’,” you whined, pouting, “i’m not that dumb!”

“yeah, but ya aren’t that smart either,” he takes a moment to admire you while you ramble about how you still got better grades than him and how osamu is the smarter twin.

“oh! tsumu, you should go home now.”

“right. see ya tomorrow, y/n!”

the next few days pass and you feel as if the atmosphere is off between you and atsumu. you’ve spoken to osamu about it and he feels the same way. did something happen between you and atsumu?

“..astu’?” you tap atsumu’s shoulder softly, letting him know you’re there.

“oh. y/l/n.” atsumu isn’t looking at you with the usual gleam in his eyes and you’re starting to wondering if you messed up something.

“‘tsumu, why’re you callin’ me by my last name?” you bite your lip in a state of confusion and nervousness.

“y/n. we need to talk.” he sighs in a way that you would when you’re disappointed and you’re thinking you really fucked up.

after school, you meet atsumu in the gym. they don’t have practice today, so the gym was the perfect place to meet up.

“y/n. i know what you think about me. i can see it in the way you look at me.” atsumu begins, almost instantly regretting what he’s decided to do. the way your eyes are starting to tear up makes him know you know what he’s talking about.

“atsumu.. i didn’t- i didn’t mean to. it just-” you stutter out, tears dripping down your cheeks, as atsumu pulls you into a hug.

“shh, i know. it’s okay, yeah? just ‘cause ya fell in love with me doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. just needed ya to know that ya shouldn’t confess to me. i’m gonna have to reject ya, and i really don’t wanna do that.” you don’t know what to say, especially since you were hoping to confess to him in a few days.

“i- i’m gonna go, atsumu.” you pull away from him after a few minutes of silence and after your sobs have silenced.

“i’ll walk you home.”

“no.. atsumu, i need time to think, y’know?”

days pass, days turning to weeks and weeks beginning to edge onto two months. the heavy tension in the gym is suffocating. the bus ride to nationals isn’t much better either. you’re sitting as far away from atsumu as you can, avoiding the awkward looks he gives you. you know he wants to apologise for being so blunt to you, but you aren’t ready to talk to him yet.

“y/n, i think it’s time you talked with ‘tsumu. i know you don’t want to, but as our manager you have to for the sake of the team.” kita’s calm voice snaps you out of your lost state of mind. it was evident that you weren’t feeling your best from the way your gaze was soft and it looked like you were drifting off.

“oh. uh.. i don’t think he wants to see me right now?” you try to make an excuse but kita simply shakes his head no and you grumble.

“y/n. go now, please. ‘tsumu isn’t focusin’ durin’ practice. as manager ya needa set him straight.”

“kita-nii..” you hesitate for a moment, “fine. i’ll do it.”

“thank you, y/n.”

you walk up to atsumu, who seems quite surprised you’re even looking at him right now, and sit next to him.

“atsu’.. i don’t wanna be the reason you might lose nationals. i know how much this means to you,” you make eye contact with atsumu for the first time in about a month.

“y/n, it’s not yer fault, yeah?” atsumu cups your cheek with his hand, a small smile growing on his face, “shouldn’t have been so blunt with ya anyways, shoulda known you’d react like this.”

“are.. are we okay again?” you bite your lip lightly, patiently waiting for a reply.

“think we were always okay, we just had a lil’ mishap, y’know?”

“so.. can i sit next to you?” you feel at peace knowing what happened hopefully won’t change your current dynamic, even if you know atsumu definitely won’t be yours.

“yeah, ya can. c’mere.” you sit down before atsumu tucks you into his side.

the rest of the ride is silent, but the uncomfortable tension is eased.

nationals pass by in a few blinks. but in the end, unfortunately, inarizaki lost to karasuno; a school no one would’ve thought could make it this far before, not after their reputation of being ‘clipped crows’.

the bus is once again silent during the ride home, and it breaks your heart — as the manager who’s been with them as long as the second years have — seeing how distraught the boys look. everyone looks disappointed in themselves, even suna looks upset. but most of all, atsumu looks like he’s on the verge of tears. and sitting next to him gives you the front seats to the way his eyes are glossy, the tears threatening to spill over any moment.

even the school feels silent, the losing game somehow affecting the entirety of inarizaki. even you, the bubbly sweetheart, could barely smile.

months pass, and now it’s almost the end of your second year. everything seemed to pass in a blur, from the losing match to the rest of your second year. the only thing that seemed to linger was the feeling of regret; and your feelings for atsumu. maybe if you didn’t catch feelings for atsumu, he would’ve been more focused. if you didn’t catch feelings, he wouldn’t have had to talk to you about it.

although the boys didn’t technically have to keep practicing, a few of the boys kept going; especially atsumu.

“atsu’? it’s time to lock up before ya get in trouble from coach. again.” your soft voice calling out to atsumu snaps him out of his focus.

“oh. yeah, gimme a minute.”

you watch atsumu do his jump serve, the sound of the impact from the ball hitting the floor bouncing on the walls of the gym. atsumu tried to hit another serve before you register why you’re there but it’s too late.

“atsu’, no! i’ll help you clean up, c’mon. you gotta walk me home, it’s late. it’d be terrible if i, your precious manager, got kidnapped right?” you joked, though you were still terrified at the thought of getting kidnapped for real.

“yeah ya right, it’d be so hard for the team without our darlin’ lil’ manager.” atsumu chuckles.

your parents didn’t really mind where you went at night, especially since they knew you were often with atsumu. so it’s no surprise that your parents don’t call or text when it’s late at night and you’re at a park with atsumu, sitting on a bench together. the cold breeze making you wish you’d brought your jacket with you that day. and it seems atsumu notices because soon after you shiver, atsumu’s large jacket is placed on your shoulders.

“hey, y/n?” atsumu swings his arm around your shoulder and makes you shuffle closer to him.

“mm?”

“i like you.”

“oh, cool. wait. what??” your whip your head to face him, shocked at the sudden confession.

“maybe i can give this whole love thing a shot? doesn’t seem that hard to keep ya happy.” atsumu jokes, watching as your expression shuffles through happy, confused and a mix of the two.

“i- i like you too but.. your volleyball career?”

atsumu simply shushes you and brings you into a soft kiss; and you wish time would stop right then.

“be my girlfriend?” he smiles at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

and who were you to say no to that?

[tarithenurse]

Spark - 16

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Scheming, angst, pining, someone’s not good at dealing with a variety of feelings. Oh! It’s almost a tradition in this so no proofing. A/N: So...I should’ve been asleep and trying to rearrange my sleep cycle after a weekend of nightshifts, but meh! Much better to get this down in words. Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

16. Inferno

...   Benimaru   ...

The route might be different than the one [Y/N] had followed earlier, but the determination to reach the destination is just as great. Just short of running, Benimaru hurries down the street, takes a left down the alley, and finally two rights before he has to stop and wait for an inhabitant to let him in.

This is taking too long. I shou-

The door is opened by Mr. Ozaka who isn’t given a chance to greet the captain properly before the young man has rushed past, barely taking time to ditch the boots (not that it reduces the thundering noise as he races up the stairs) - Benimaru knows exactly where to go: he insisted on personally inspecting each and every single hiding place to make sure it would be safe enough.

And there’s the futon, easy to push aside. Must be nearly suffocating under there! It bounces off the wall from the force and he ignores as it plops against his skull, focusing instead on jamming a handful of fingertips into the groove along the floorboard and lift it enough to ensure better purchase. A section of the floor lifts neatly revealing the cramped hiding hole and...

“WHERE is she?!” Benimaru demands from the meek homeowner.

...   Reader   ...

You’re still not entirely sure you won’t get in trouble (actually, knowing Shinmon and his grumpiness: you’re screwed), but you’ve learned not to argue with the old woman who finally seems to be pleased with the situation.

“This is my favourite tea, dear,” O-bāchan smiles as she readies the leaves and waits for the water to reach the perfect temperature.

When she first pulled you out of the hiding hole (she’s surprisingly strong!), she had tutted at the sight and refused to listen to explanations or excuses while ushering you along. Then she’d drawn a bath for you (which had been lovely considering the sweat from the training and then the dust) and laid out a clean yukata to wear. Once you were re-freshened, she’d prepared a light meal for the two of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me t-”

“Don’t you dare,” once more, her voice grows sharp as a harpy’s, “you’re my guest.”

You don’t dare point out that a guest normally has a choice of whether or not to go to someone’s home. Instead, you dutifully sit, knees and shins digging into the little cushion as you groan mentally at the constricting cotton from the protonationalistic outfit. You’ve seen a lot of women wear it around in Asakusa. It does sort of look pretty in the same impractical way the yellow sundress you’ve inherited does – the difference there being that the latter still allows free movement. And that’s the thing: for too long, you’ve had to think smart to get by on your own and clothes were meant to be practical; something that helps a person survive.

“Here you go,” O-bāchan hands you a cup of tea with a smile just as there’s a loud knocking on the door.

Are they still searching? Is the first panicked thought shooting through your head and you can’t help but wince as the banging is repeated.

“Oï-oï, such impatience. Excuse me for a moment, sweetie, and do try one of the cookies.” Your host is perfectly unfazed as she clambers to her feet (a few muttered groans proving her age) and shuts the door upon leaving the room.

You don’t taste the baked goods – don’t even have the wherewithal to put down the cup of tea as you listen for the muted sounds of voices. Oh...I know that one.

A quick glance around cements what you already knew: there’s only one way in and out. It’s tempting to grab the roll of dirty clothes and try to make a dash for it. Perhaps you can escape to another room and wait there until the hallway’s clear? You scrap the idea right away, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

At least O-bāchan’s delighted chatting warns you before the door slides open, revealing her and a blank-faced Shinmon. No, not blank. There’s a tick in his jaw and his eyes narrow the second he spots you sitting at the neatly laden table. He’s still wearing the same clothes as when you were sparring that very morning (something that feels like ages ago), stale sweat momentarily overpowering the more pleasant fragrances as  he too is ushered to take a place. Right next to you.

“I’ll warm bathwater for you, my lad,” Asakusa’s granny chirps.

“No need, we won’t be staying long.” It’s border-lining a growl, and her pointed gaze makes him add, “Thank you, though.”

“Well...fine...” Something is muttered under her breath that neither of you dare ask about. “I guess I’ll find a new cup for myself. [Y/N], be a good girl and pour Waka some tea.”

You do as she says and rush to free your hands, both because you’ve already learned there’s no sense in refusing her but mainly to do something, anything, to keep the awkward silence at bay. The pot trembles slightly as you fill the blue porcelain cup, and it’s much too loud as you replace it in the holder above the little candle.

...

O-bāchan had done most of the talking during the rest of you visit, but despite the unwillingness of her guests, she still seemed mighty pleased with herself when she waved goodbye. While the tea had warmed your belly and the sweets had made you think of happier days...well, nothing lasted long enough to tide you all the way back to Company Seven’s station.

Walking to your room with too short steps, bare feet silent on the wooden planks, you’re uncomfortable aware of Benimaru following you a few steps behind (probably on his way to the showers or his own room). Your fingertips greedily curl around the etched slit of the door, knowing that soon you’ll be in your own little sanctuary. Alone.

“[Y/N].”

You freeze, loath to turn around because you know he’s about to chew you out. “Shinmon.”

“I told you to stay hidden until I came for you.”

Sorry. “I know, but have you tried arguing with her? The old bidd-”

“Shut up. When you weren’t there...all I could think was...if they’d...” his voice is raw as he struggles with the words.

Too curious for your own good, you turn and find the normally stoic captain in a state you never expected. Hands flexing as his side and shoulders tense. His shaggy hair covering most of his face because he’s looking down as if searching for the root to the frustration that’s rolling off of him. He’s not angry? Or maybe he is but that’s not what’s prevalent right this instant. As if feeling your gaze, he lifts his face and allows your eyes to meet and there, just for a millisecond, there’s a flicker of pain and fear.

Then it’s gone.

...  Benimaru   ...

Ever since Mamoru had warned about the cops, it had either felt as if a fire was searing everything inside the captain’s chest or the sharpness of ice had pierced every organ there. No in between until he had finally stepped in and seen the woman – the source of all the trouble – sitting daintily and sipping tea. For a moment all he had felt was weightlessness. Pretty as the flowers on the yukata – obviously a borrowed item which his brain took time to comment that she ought to own instead – and apparently unharmed, [Y/N] somehow mellowed out the extremes battling inside him.

Now the internal storm is back and it’s all he can do to contain it.

“If they’d -” he bites back the urge to say what he wants, mentally stomps out the burning urge to grab the woman to make sure she really still is there. It’s not just hold her hand or grab her arm but a thirst for her lips and her body’s response if he were to melt into her.

Sensing [Y/N]’s movement, he does wrangles it all into submission by reminding himself that despite appreciating the safety provided by the “neighbourhood watch” she has made it clear as sunshine that she shuns him. Konro, the twins, hell even most of the guys are honoured with the friendship...but not Benimaru. Well, I’m still going to keep you safe.

“They wouldn’t be as forgiving or hospitable as we’ve been,” he grinds out before marching away.

[clockworkgraystairs]

Letting Go

Rating: M

Warnings: Major character death. Angst. Mentions of sex. Angst. Accidents. Did I mention angst?

Summary:

Cardan thought he and his family were meant to live happily ever after.

He was wrong.

Extra comments: I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.

Extra comments 2: If you’re masochist as me and wish to read this listening to some music, I’ll leave my spotify playlist “Don’t touch me, I’m angsty”

Thank you to the incredible @sweetlyvillainous for holding my hand while I cried because of this, for betaing later and for giving the extra boost to the angst. YES YOU DID, AND YOU’RE AS GUILTY AS ME. I love u. 

Masterlist   •   AO3

As dawn went on, Cardan looked through the window with hooded eyes. It snowed outside. How typical, he thought. 

Not long ago he would’ve been excited about it. The perspective of spending the day building snow castles and angels. Never a snowman, since his daughter had always claimed that was too cliché. He would mock her for it and build tiny figures around her castle. ‘The invasion of the fae snowmen’ he’d called it, despite the insistence of his wife about that being pure nonsense. 

He laid on his bed, staring at nothing in particular. From that position he would normally be able to look at her, snoring softly in the opposite pillow. That used to be his favorite moment of the day. Few minutes that he could spend watching how she slept, calm and unbothered. At least until he couldn’t help it anymore and woke her up, trailing her neck with soft and playful kisses.  

Cold sheets coiled around him now. A reminder of the empty space next to him that haunted Cardan at the beginning and end of each day. Screaming into the silence she’s gone.  

The morning it happened, Ivy wanted pancakes an old store sold a couple of blocks away. Cardan was reluctant to get up. All groggy because he and Jude had spent the night before rolling on the sheets, barely moaning in each other’s mouths trying not to wake their 7 year old. He didn’t want to get up. But his daughter was as stubborn as his wife. So Jude gave him a long sweet kiss and told him to go back to sleep while she fetched breakfast. 

He did. 

He shouldn’t have.

He should’ve gone with her. He should’ve gone instead. Or better yet, he should’ve convinced her to stay and make the bloody pancakes himself. Anything.

Anything except letting Jude go out alone. She was supposed to be back in a matter of minutes, but she didn’t. And he didn’t notice it because he fell asleep again. 

He missed the first phone call. And the second. 

It wasn’t until a tiny hand woke him up and handed him the cellphone. Frowning with dizziness at Jude’s two missed calls he was about to dial back when it rang again. 

“Hey babe, sorry. What’s up?” He mumbled, ruffling Ivy’s hair.

The voice that answered was not Jude’s, instantly startling him awake.

“Yes, he’s speaking.” Loud voices and sirens muffled the voice, making it hard to hear. “I’m- I’m sorry I’m not understanding, where is my wife? Give her the phone so I can speak to her plea-”

He didn’t record the moment when he put on the first clothes he found, nor calling his old college friends that lived two doors away to come and watch little Ivy. 

He didn’t watch for the red lights or cared if he’d parked the right way in the hospital’s parking lot. The world seemed to spiral around him, an unending parade of walls, doors, people in white or blue suits. Voices filled him with details but he could only partially hear them. Something about a kid crossing the street unsupervised and Jude running after him. His heartbeat roared in his ears.

“We’re glad we could reach you Mr. Greenbriar. It’s always better when the patient doesn’t have to go through it alone.”

“Through it? What are you-”

“I’m really sorry. The internal damage is too much...” 

The doctor’s voice faded away as they entered the room. Fighting to bite back a sob he approached the resting figure on the bed. She looked like his wife, but something was deeply wrong. Her face was awfully pale and her lips dry and bruised. Wires rested along her body. The monitor connected to them matched the aching slowness in her breathing. There was no trace of the playful Jude that teased him mercilessly day after day, stealing kisses from his mouth and knowing he’d let her do whatever she wanted to him. 

He found himself still standing centimeters away from her, paralyzed. 

The doctor leaned to touch her shoulder and whispered something to her ear. Her eyelids fluttered a moment before opening, not with the fierceness they carried everyday but tired, wandering. 

Pulling out of his frozen state he reached for her hand, covered in bandages and stroke it softly. “Jude.” 

Her eyes found him and a weak smile curved her lips. “You made it.” She said with a raspy voice. He kneeled, fully taking her hand in his. The door knob clicked as they were left alone. 

“Of course I did.” He choked out, trying to match her smile. It felt as if a thin string was keeping him together. “I’m here to take you home.”

Jude looked at him the way she did every time he promised to bring the stars down for her. She squeezed his hand with a nonexistent force that physically hurt in his chest. “You were always a terrible liar.”

Cardan opened his mouth to joke back but wasn’t able to make more than a suffocated sound. That’s when the first tear rolled down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, opening them as he felt her thumb wiping away the wetness under them. “It’s ok.” 

The string snapped. 

“No, it’s not Jude, gods I’m- I’m...” He sobbed, incapable of stopping himself anymore. “I’m so sorry, it was all my fault. If I’d gone with you, If I’d…”

“Hey, no. It’s ok.” She cooed, holding him as he buried his face in her neck apologizing over and over. “Cardan, this was not your fault. Please.” 

He let her hold him as his body trembled with broken weeps. Cardan shut his eyes close, hoping he would open them and be back home. Not here. Not in this nightmare. They had so much to do, so much to live. He was meant to be with her through everything. He was meant to protect her. And he had neglected everything for five more sleeping minutes instead. If Ivy hadn’t woken him up…  If he’d missed another phone call… 

If he’d answered the first damn time he might have had more time. There was an ache in his chest making it harder to breathe, to think. 

They laid together for several minutes, hearing nothing more than their breathings and the beeping machine.  

“Stay, my love.” He begged, the knot in his throat making it harder to speak. “Fight. I can’t do it without you, I’m not strong enough. I need you, we need you… Ivy...”

Something wet landed on his cheek. Only then he realized she’d started crying too. “You’ll take care of her. You can, you’re the strongest man I’ve ever known.”

He felt her breathing falter and he backed up a little, afraid he’d harm her but Jude didn’t let him go. “I love you. I always have, even when you used to make my life a living hell all those years ago. I love you and our daughter so much.” She said. Cardan sobbed again. Don’t, he wanted to answer, don’t say goodbye. Not yet. “And know that even when you can’t see me, I will be with you always.” 

“I know,” He whispered back, now wiping her tears away and leaning to kiss her. “I love you, Jude Duarte. You are the best gift life could give me. You saw the best in me when nobody else could and for that and everything else, I’ll be eternally grateful. I’ll... watch out for Ivy, and she will know her mom is a hero, I promise.”

She breathed a laugh and asked him to hold her again. He did, he clung to her as tightly as he could without hurting her, breathing ‘I love you’ on her hair until her hand lost strength around him. 

Until the monitor gave out one long final beep and took his heart with it. 

He’d kept his vow. He’d continued with his life, dedicating every second of it to take care of their little girl. To make sure she was happy and wasn’t that affected from her mother’s passing. 

Ivy was strong, and most of the time more mature than her age suggested. She tried to carry on as well. Even if sometimes Cardan caught her staring longingly at that spot on the living room where Jude used to sit and read his old books. 

But even now, months later, it was hard for him to get up from bed sometimes. To wake up from a bad dream only to realize it was real, he was alone. Jude wasn’t coming back.

Some nights nightmares got worse, not because his mind created new scenarios. Quite the opposite, it revived his worst memory.

Hands touched his shoulders, probably seeking to comfort him. But he barely felt them. He barely heard the nurses enter the room after Jude’s pulse stopped. 

He was aware of the uncontrollable way his chest shook between sobs. Pleading her to stay, to open her eyes just one minute more. 

Of how he clutched her hand as if it would squeeze life back into her. He felt the softness of her hair as he caressed it, clinging to her the moment the doctors tried to pull him away. The nurse started to remove the wires.

He dreamed of his throat tearing apart as he roared them to let go of his wife. Later begging to allow him to hug her for a moment more. Just a second. Just a lifetime. Please. 

Just a moment.

Cardan always woke between gasps those nights. Sometimes leading him to stay awake until morning, afraid to fall asleep again. 

It was on days like that that he closed his eyes and let time rewind. 

He returned to the year before, to the mornings when they decided who prepared breakfast with rock, paper, scissors games. 

To years before that, when still half asleep he reached for her and curled his arms around Jude’s swollen belly. Barely weeks away from welcoming their baby.

To the day when he’d held his girlfriend in his arms and waited for her to open her eyes to finally ask her to marry him. 

He knew he shouldn’t. In fact he was sure Jude would beat his ass for doing it. But sometimes he just wanted to feel her close only for a couple of minutes more. Some days he refused to accept she was not there anymore. 

A loud crash startled him, bringing Cardan back from his daydreaming. He sat up to look at the clock and frowned. It was still early for Ivy to be awake. 

He got up and walked to the kitchen, only to find the floor covered in white flour and his daughter on the opposite side with the face of someone that just got caught with a hand in the jar of cookies. 

“Ivy, what are you doing?” He asked. Gods, there was a mess. His mental energy didn’t want to deal with it at the moment.

“I...” She darted her gaze to the right, the same thing Jude did whenever Cardan found her doing something she wasn’t supposed to. 

He crossed the space, to crouch next to her and started picking things up with an exasperated sigh. 

She let out a breath in defeat and murmured. “I was trying to make the muffins.”

“The muffins?” 

“The muffins mom cooked for us every Christmas.” Ivy said as if he’d missed the most obvious thing. 

Fuck. He looked at the calendar hanging on the wall behind him. December 24th. Fuck, fuck. How had he overlooked the date? They’d received an invitation to celebrate Christmas with their friends and another one from Jude’s family. He had intended to answer back. 

“Oh honey…you needn’t.” Cardan turned back to her and took her little hand between his.

“I know. But I wanted to cheer you up.” Ivy’s voice was low. “You’re sad all the time, dad… I thought... maybe mommy’s muffins would help.”

A pang of guilt stung in his chest. Fuck, he tried so hard to keep his emotions at bay around her. Washing his face with frozen water hoping it would take away the redness around his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened his mouth but no words came out so he just pulled his child into a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t be,” She interrupted him, clinging to his neck. “I miss her too.”

Blinking back the tears, he pulled back to cup her cheeks. “There is nothing that cheers me up more than you, sweetie. You know that right?”

Ivy’s chocolate eyes shimmered as she nodded. 

Cardan took a deep breath and pulled her up so she was sitting on top of the counter. “Now, you know I suck at cooking those infamous muffins,” He grimaced. Ivy chuckled and bit her lip, totally not denying his statement. “So how about if instead of those, I prepare you my ultra special pancakes?”

Her gaze widened. “With whipped cream and fruit??”

He nodded. The excited squeal of his daughter warmed his heart in that unique way only she could achieve. 

With Ivy’s help, the pancakes were made in little time. Even if all she did was jump around  the kitchen singing Christmas carols. 

Just as he was about to serve the table, she stopped him. “Dad, can we go eat breakfast with mommy?”

Cardan paused, not sure if he’d listened correctly. “With mommy?”

“Yeah, you know, like those days when we went out on picnics.” She said. Excitement floored from every single one of her pores. “She loved Christmas, I’m sure she’ll be glad to see us too!”

He wanted to say no, not knowing if he would make it. It’s too soon, the words hug there in the tip of his tongue. But looking at Ivy and her puppy eyes, he couldn’t. 

~

Covered in scarves and warm coats they arrived at the cemetery. It was a beautiful place, if he was honest. Tall trees and some flowers grew along, giving it the appearance of a valley despite the cold weather. It looked so peaceful. Even if snow covered some parts of it.

Cardan carried a bag filled with the food and a blanket to use as tablecloth. Ivy played with the snow as they walked, and gasped at the sight of her mother’s tombstone. Letting go of Cardan’s hand, she ran towards it. A big smile shining on her face. 

He stopped meters away from it, unsure of his decision. His heart hammered on his chest and he could see the steam formed by his shaky breathing. 

Ivy turned and motioned him to come closer. 

As he approached, he heard the cheerful chatter of his daughter, making him frown. 

“...so I tried to be as quiet as possible, but then the flour fell!” She laughed and darted her gaze to him again. “That’s why daddy caught me, right dad?”

Cardan hesitated. “Uh, yeah… that’s when I found you covered in powder.”

He peered at the marble figure, intentionally avoiding the picture under the letters forming her name. 

After setting the food they ate. Ivy barely chewed her food between words, since she was deeply invested in whatever conversation she was having with her mother. Cardan just listened. She spoke about her school, her exams with almost perfect grades. About aunt Liliver announcing she and uncle Van were expecting a baby, a thing Ivy wasn’t so sure to like since that would probably remove her from ‘the favorite’ position. She talked about the blanket forts Cardan taught her to build and the new books he’d read to her. Occasionally, she would laugh as if she’d listened to something incredibly funny. 

They built a snow castle with the few snow that was gathered around, at least before Ivy accidentally threw a snowball to his chest. The snowball war that unleashed after had them growling and squealing for several minutes. It ended up with both of them lying down on the blanket, tired and giggling. 

He sat up to ruffle her hair and sighed. “It’s time to go, little one.” 

Ivy whined. “So soon?”

“We can return some other day…” That lit her face back up. “But your aunt Lil invited us to a party today. Do you want to go?”

She yelped. “With Christmas gifts?”

“Yeah.” Cardan winked. 

Once everything was back in the bag Cardan started walking, but a tug on his sleeve stopped him. 

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to mommy?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“C’mon dad, go. I’ll wait for you over there.” She signaled a big space where rocks made an odd figure. That said, she was gone.

Haltingly, Cardan turned back to face the tombstone. 

Air seemed to have flown out of his lungs. What was he supposed to say? He looked down and shuffled his foot in the snow. His grip tightened around the bag’s handle. 

He used to spend the nights thinking of all the things he would’ve liked to say to her. But as it was, all of them apparently had vanished into the air. Should he say he loved her? That everything was okay?

“I hate you.” Was what came out. Cardan scoffed and swallowed. That was definitely not what he was thinking. “That is a lie. But I guess you already know it, don’t you?” 

“Sometimes I wish I could hate you though... Maybe it would make it easier. Because sure as hell it’s not.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m trying. I promised you I would but… I miss you all the fucking time, Jude. I can’t go to bed at night without thinking you’re not there by my side anymore.”

He paused and rubbed his eyes. Cardan flashed quick glances to Ivy, trying to find the strength. But once he faced Jude’s picture again, the pressure on his chest was nearly unbearable.

“Everyday something happens that I would like to tell you. When Ivy or any of our friends do something I find hilarious I turn to make sure you saw it too just to find an empty space and I… I hate it.”

“I hate not being able to hug you, I hate not feeling your hands playing with my hair in the morning. I hate not being able to tell you everyday how much I still love you. I hate that Ivy notices how much I struggle with it. I hate not being as strong as you were.”

He spilled the words so fast they were probably intelligible, but he didn’t care anymore.

“Ivy… she’s an amazing little girl, you know? Everyday she does something new that is clever, or brave… and she reminds me so much of you.” A sob broke through him. He turned to look at her, auburn curls bouncing everywhere. Taking a steadying breath he brought back his gaze to the tomb.

“I just hope she’s not as good with  lies or I will be totally screwed.” He let out a low chuckle. “You should be proud of her.”

Before he could say something else something warm spread down his shoulders to his arms and chest. If he was drunk he would say it resembled the feeling of a hug. The pressure on his chest slowly disappeared as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

Not knowing exactly how or why, a weight on his shoulders he hadn’t realized he had, was gone from a moment to another.

“I love you, Jude Duarte.” He breathed. “You will have my heart always, and when this life ends I’ll find you again to give it to you once more.”

Giving a final look to the picture he’d been avoiding since they arrived, he gave a weak smile, wiped the tears away and turned to go find his daughter. 

“Goodbye, my sweet villain.”

A Christmas party with his family (because that’s how he considered his friends), awaited. He found Ivy marching on top of the rocks, claiming it was a conquered fae castle and she, the new Queen. He chuckled and motioned her to return. 

As they walked back to the car, she grabbed his hand and gave him a knowing look. Even when you can’t see me, I will be with you always.

The next morning when he opened his eyes the empty spot was still there. But for the first time in months, he welcomed the memories of his Jude with a longing smile. 

----------------------------

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[shinglescat]

ooga booga

Previous stories here. Kanarielle’s character page here.

It’s been quite a few months already since the power transit already, and to everyone’s surprise Esmir not only did not mind it at all, she even welcomed the change with her arms wide open. She did protest once, however, at the start of it all, when her grandchildren expressed their demands for her - the old lady surely expected her grandson to take the reign just out of spite, not the fragile granddaughter; she voiced her concern, but they did not listen. Still, she was suspiciously okay with the turn of the events, and Mark guessed it was because of more of the available free time in her schedule for… debauchery and other side projects. Other than that, Esmir’s been insisting on them both showing off at a soiree, just to keep the nobility talking about them, sort of a power display, and Livaen planned everything out from there herself as the new head of the family, as the new Lady Sorano.

It wasn’t in his plans to go alone, yet the circumstances thought differently. Livaen managed to talk him into this, promising an easy evening and a “free-to-go” card after. As soon as he opened his mouth to agree on the occasion, his luck decided to go south - later the same evening Aspen had to leave him due to some “unforeseen events” in a complete urgency. Mark knew better than to ask, as it was near impossible to get anything out of the man, so he was left on his own until he met with an old friend of his again. The luck wasn’t on his side this time either; he had to attend the soiree alone anyways, even though he and his friend arrived together and even agreed on playing out a couple for the public to spare the elf from unwanted attention and unsolicited affection; the girl had to take care of a sudden matter at hand, so he left her in the Void to her own devices and proceeded with the gathering alone.

- Hope it went well, - she greeted him as soon as he showed up, notes of worry in her voice. She was modestly sitting on his bed, in one of the smaller residences of the family, watching him as he got upstairs, walked up to the bed and crashed into the sheets with his face down right beside her. Kana patted him on the back lightly, feeling of guilt making her cheeks turn red for leaving him like this alone, - I’m sorry you had to be there on your own tonight, - she quietly apologized, - Won’t happen again.

- It’s okay, don’t sweat it, - he raised his hand to stop her from saying anything else, mumbling into the bed, eyes closed, - Could’ve figured the luck wasn’t on my side, - he snickered, drained and overwhelmed with the spotlight he had to endure with no way for him to retreat. So much for the promised easy evening.

Kanarielle rolled her eyes.

- Man, if you aren’t a diva, - she reached his head with her hand, her nails scratching the scalp. The elf tensed up a bit, but then relaxed into the feeling, pleasure from the touch tingling at the nape of his neck, - You can complain now, please do begin.

Mark sighed loudly.

- Nothing to complain, - he took a moment to breathe in and out, to calm down the heart that was beating way too fast in his chest, - It was a ginormous lie. She promised an easy evening, but… I dunno, if that’s an easy evening for her, I’m dreading of the harder ones, - he turned on the spot, his back against the bed sheets, facing the elf girl, - There was a woman… Has to be from Livaen’s retinue. Very insistent and utterly… handsy, kept touching me the whole evening, - Mark groaned, remembering the altmer lady - Niluer, the touch of her fingers still lingering on his skin, her nails on his jaw as she tried to get his attention, - And I’m not mentioning the other ones that were eyeing me like I’m a piece of a fresh delectable meat or something. Felt like they were about to devour me alive.

The girl raised her eyebrow, chuckling.

- Oh boy, are they in for a surprise tomorrow, - she said, whispering, - when I’ll be the only one groping your ass in public… - Kana cheerfully slapped her knees in anticipation, nudging him with her elbow, obviously joking. Mark had none of that; he tried to push her away, grunting disapprovingly at the mental image, - Alright, alright, no groping, - she gently stroked his shoulder, adding in a small voice, - Though you are the piece of a fresh delectable meat, - her hands went up into his hair, fingers combing through it, - Thought no one’s gonna notice you return into the family? You are one helluva promising bachelor, – he whined, attempting once more to shove her off the bed. She slapped his tummy lightly in retaliation, - Oh, and let’s not forget your grandma! Anyone in their right mind would want to bask in her power, - Mark tried to say something, but she covered his mouth with a palm of her hand before he would voice anything, - They gon be fighting for your body parts, heart and hands, all that. BUT!, they are the least of your problems.

- And the big problems? – Mark forcefully removed the hand off his mouth, snorting and rolling his eyes.

This time she casually smacked him on his forehead, clap rather loud than painful, the sound muffled by cushions and furniture.

- You have a huge profit sign on your forehead, - Kana pointed her index finger right in between his brows, pressing it into the skin rather painfully, - that’s what I’m saying; they will use and do anything to get to you. And since Livaen is… you know, I’m not talking about her even here, this seems to summon her out of thin air – this makes you a better target.

- Ugh, don’t lecture me, - he brushed off her warning, knocking the hand away from the face, - Like I don’t know it, there are always the people who would suck a dick or two to get some benefits, - Mark looked at her, then shifted his gaze at the window. He tried to ignore the thought, dismiss it as if it was of no concern, tried to act tough, but his mind still lingered on the concept. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes, set on steering the conversation away from him and the uncomfortable subject, - Was it the same in the Sanctuary? For you?

Kana shifted on the bed inelegantly, her entire spine stiffening up at the mention of the place. She looked nowhere.

-   No, not really, no, - she paused, reminiscing her own family, or rather those she used to call like that, - We’re far from nobility you saw there, though as far as I remember, - she hummed, biting her lip, memories resurfacing again after years of oblivion, - Mandil mentioned Bellaniel being a higher up member of the Falmeri society before the fall of the Snow Prince. We were more like a cult, I think, worshipping our blood and condemning the men, - Kanarielle snickered, - Imagine a club for old and bitter edgy elves – that’s us! It was similar for Ryl tho – Bellani intended on finding a party for her once she’s of age, marry her off to someone of their people, so they would “continue to carry on the legacy”, whatever that means, “of the last Snow Elves”, secluded in their own little world, of course, - something stirred inside her, and she paused, - Fuck, she’s probably married already, gotta have a kid, - her guts twisted unpleasantly, entire insides doing somersaults at once, a wave of nausea going up her throat. She tried to will it go away, but the awful feeling didn’t fade, - It’s been years since I last saw her. We were sixteen when I ran away, Mark, and Rylnir already had suitors courting her by that age, sucking up to Bellani, - the girl gasped for air loudly, as if suffocating, - They probably didn’t think of her anything but a hole in a piece of meat on the legs. We were just children, for fuck’s sake, but our fates were already decided for us.

Mark sat up straight.

- What about you? – he asked carefully, feeling uneasy, anxious of what she’s about to say, the memories likely distressing her.

- Dunno if I had it better, - she shrugged, leaning on his shoulder and hiding her face in the crook of his neck, - Ryl’s to become the next Matriarch once Bellaniel’s dead, and I was set to become the guardian to the realm. Bellani did everything to indoctrinate me, all that inspirational religious bullshit, and it honestly worked – I was bitter at men, at what they had done to us, - Mark hugged her by her shoulders, holding her tight against his side, feeling a faint shiver and a frequent, fast heartbeat, so strong it was reflecting in his own body, almost deafening. She was tense, her entire body stiff, ready to fight, - She played the “you’re the last of your kind” card, and I was dumb enough to fall to that. She poisoned me with hate, - the girl pulled back, looking into the elf’s eyes.

- You hate her too, - he whispered, cringing on the pain in his forearm, as she clung to it like to a lifeline, - No… You are afraid of her.

She sighed, releasing the arm from her grip, settling back on his shoulder. The fury, the anger she felt died out in a blink of an eye, replaced with an empty cold calm.

- I am, - her voice tranquil, - I used to hate her, now I’m just scared. She did everything to turn me into a willing vessel for Meridia, - she straightened her arm, reaching out into the air, green sparks swirling under her palm, - I was to become a purified, think you’re familiar what that means. She always talked about caring of all meri, but was only interested in the survival of her own kind, didn’t give a shit about anyone else. Leo was the last adult ayleid in the realm, and I was the only child of my “untimely deceased” ayleid parents. Isn’t it weird? – she glanced at him, puzzled, -  Guess she found it poetic.

Mark lowered them both onto the bed, still holding her in a hug, gently stroking her arm. Meridia again, huh, with a quest for an army of brain dead glowing vegetables.

- How did you escape?

- No clue, Mark, I swear. I was sitting in my chambers, talking to Mandil, then I blackout and later find myself swimming through a cave with a thing chasing me. Was scared shitless, but managed to get out, ended up at the western shore of Ilinalta, - she rose up above him, pointing at her silver eyes, - You know, I used to have blue eyes, but I guess she or… they tried to punish me for leaving, tried to make me blind. I thought I’m done for, but Jack found me, did some magic, restored my sight, - her voice sounded much more serene than a few minutes before, heartbeat no longer audible, - A few years later Bellani tried to bring me back, affecting me through dreams. Almost succeeded, too, but Jack intervened, pierced her through in one of the nightmares and sundered the connection to the Sanctuary. Hadn’t had them since.

- Shit, Rie, that’s….

- Now that’s the name I hadn’t heard in a while, - she laughed hopelessly, interrupting Mark before he would express his condolences, still towering above him. She looked sad, though the weak smile on her face tried to say something else, - Jack used to call me that, - the girl closed her eyes dreamy, as if she heard him call her again.

- What happened to him? You were so inseparable, - the elf inquired, pulling her back onto the bed.

- Yeah, were, but he grew distant, and I had to leave him, all that bubbly stuff, - she turned on her side, her head resting on Mark’s chest, - I loved him, otherwise I’d leave him sooner. It was hard to let go, but it was for the best. Him growing distant helped to sever the bond.

- Did he love you though? – Mark asked into the air, gently stroking her arm, eyes growing weary, fatigue steadily putting him to sleep.

- Don’t know. I think he was just attached, nothing more, we were never meant to be, - she laughed humorlessly, - He saved me though, and I’m grateful for it, would never make it to the adulthood without him. Would be lying if I said I don’t miss him sometimes too. He was my first real friend anyways, was foolish of me to fall for him, - Kanarielle paused, thinking about something for a moment, - But I have Scott now… Actually, - she rose up, looking at him as another thought crawled into her head, - Do you think there could be something between you and I if the circumstances were different?...

Mark gazed outside, genuinely thinking about her question for a good minute or two. He couldn’t tell if he liked her appearance or not, as it was the foremost to judge a potential partner, he never gave it much thought in this regard, and found himself unable to… check her out, no matter how hard he tried to do so. Then he tried thinking about the other girl he knew, tried to compare them – Braenn was one example, but something in his own head prevented him from doing so. He thought of Meltem – yes, that woman was the best of them all; he thought of Livaen’s Nilufer – the woman was quite alright in the looks department; but then he went back to Kana, then mother, then Visenya, and the block returned. As far as the personality went… he burst into laughter, giving the girl funny looks: they would be like an unconfined wild fire together in the middle of a field of a dead dry grass in winter, self-combusted from a rogue zombie-flame under the ground, with someone dumping the fuel to keep them roaring. He didn’t like her at first, she seemed to be too haughty; he guessed she didn’t like him at first either, must have been something about him as well. As the time went by, he figured her being too proud of herself was a defense mechanism, and as they grew closer he discovered a whole new side to her; it probably was the same with her opinion of him, otherwise they would never make it to good friends able to share some darkest, and dumbest, secrets.

- Honestly? – he looked at her, a single tear dancing in the corner of his eye, making the image blurry. She nodded, - Don’t think so. We’re too much alike, and that’s the recipe for a disaster, - the elf girl smirked, approvingly patting him on his chest.

- True, you were really annoying back in the days, - Mark raised his brow at that, looking playfully offended, - And the fake beard of yours?

- Ugh, - he groaned, smiling, - Remember yourself, you thought you are the all mighty ayleid, and it was in your destiny to make the world bow before you, you wanted to conquer the ruby throne, - the elf gestured wildly with his hands, making the girl pinch the skin on his sides and poke him somewhere under his rib.

- Oh, oh! Remember that huge eyeliner you had? Why did you paint it like that? Also, glad you dropped it, - she finger gunned at him.

- Meltem used to paint it, - he explained, - Helped with… identity at the time. She came up with the idea, really boosted my self-esteem. Can’t do it myself though, hands aren’t as steady, - Mark grunted, - Asked Aspen to help me put it on once Meltem left with Livaen, but he said I’m fine as I am and hid the pencil somewhere, still haven’t found it, - Kanarielle wheezed, giving thumbs up to the absent man for the idea; she was glad he made him ditch that horrendous face paint. They laughed for a little longer, remembering the vices and virtues of each other; it was a good distraction from the talk they had before, yet the thoughts in Mark’s head like cockroaches kept racing and bringing him back to the delicate subject, replacing the cheerful smile with a frown, - Shit, - he rubbed his eyes again, prompting Kana to yank his hand away from his face, - Shit, I didn’t know. You never told me the whole story.

- If that is of any comfort, I had no idea either, - she hugged him across his chest, - That is… until you brought me back yesterday. The Void is so different from what I remember, - Kana made a quiet laugh, - Catherine kept me from going out with you, had to tell this to me; couldn’t join you after the revelation, needed to process this through first, - it made him rise on his elbow, looking at the ayleid with eyes wide open. She knew Catherine? Or did she introduce herself while he was gone? - Don’t be so surprised now, - she rolled her eyes, pushing him back into the bed sheets, - I lived in a daedric realm for more than half of my life, don’t you think I know how to communicate with the entities? - Kanarielle giggled, adding in a low voice, - It must be awkward to have her watching over you all the time, especially during the..., - she hummed, - frisky moments, - red in the elf’s face started showing, making her add, - I missed the girly gossips.

- Oh my god, why, - Mark whined, hiding his face behind the palms of his hands, embarrassed, blood rushing to his head, turning him red, - Why you have to ruin everything.

- Well, that was intentionally awkward, - she grinned at him, pretty happy with her achievement, - Now let’s talk about you instead. How were you?

Mark groaned, still red as a pomegranate, but gladly changing the funny subject nevertheless.

- She prolly told you how I was as well, - he couldn’t help but reply in an annoyed and sarcastic tone, and she smacked him across his forehead for that, - Stop hitting me! – the elf grabbed her forearm before she’d descend another blow upon him, throwing daggers at her with his eyes, - I’d probably be dead as well, alright? Not brain dead like you or Cath, just dead-dead in my case, - he scratched the bridge of his nose, - Father told us, hadn’t I met Aspen, I’d be floating among the pillars with my throat slit open, no biggie, and you’d probably be the first one to find me, - he fell silent for a second, deciding to reroute the conversation one more time, - You have to teach me later how to interact with the whole place. But only basics, nothing in-depth – wanna leave the reigns in Cath’s hands.

- Sure thing, - she replied, readjusting herself on Mark’s chest, putting a hand under her head and enjoying the silence, - Don’t wanna turn into your daddy, do you? – it was Mark’s turn this time to smack her lightly on her back, - Ouch. That hurts, - the girl glanced at him, insulted. She wanted to make a comeback, but the elf already had his eyes closed, breathing quietly, chest calmly rising up and going down, exhaustion finally getting to him. She watched him for a second, musing whether to follow his lead and go to sleep, or to mess with him more, when a sudden thought emerged, - Mark? – she called him, drawing a dozy hum from him, - You ever thought about making it official?

- Official what? – it took a whole long moment for the elf to reply, mind already slipping away into slumber.

- You know… tying the knot, - she elaborated, gesturing vaguely, - getting the arrow to the knee, - Mark snorted, - Marriage, for fuck’s sake, you deep skull dingus, - the elf snickered, shoving the girl off him, turning his back on her, - Seriously, Mark. You need to.., - she couldn’t finish the sentence, as he bent around rather uncomfortably, putting his hand over her mouth.

- Sure, you’re gonna be my flower girl, - he unbent back into his place, tucking his hands under his head, sleep returning to him once more, - Now shut up, - she pinched the skin on his side yet again, mad at him for interrupting her, but the elf didn’t react, - Nah, you’re not getting the maid of honor, that’s gonna be Meltem.

________________________________________________________

- Where is he, you dipshit, - Kanarielle cornered a servant, holding him by his throat, green fumes shimmering in between her fingers, threatening the poor man with a slow and painful death. She’s been stalking him like a predator this whole evening, observing from a distance first to confirm her suspicions, them making a move, - Where is he?! – she repeated, her voice raw, uncharacteristic to her, as she slammed the servant into the wall. The man whined like an injured dog, - I saw him with you, you stupid cunt, what did you give him and where did you take him? – the man kept silence, anxiously shooting glances behind her as if someone were to save him from the enraged ayleid. She slapped him across his face, - Sunnabe, dead or alive, you’re telling me everything either way, - Kanarielle spat, piercing through the skin on the neck of the servant with the shards of ice condensed at the tips of her fingers, turning the them red as the blood leaked out of the wounds. She didn’t want to resort to puppeteering – it was hard, tiresome to hold the connection, she hated to control living beings like this, and most importantly at the moment – she was wearing an expensive evening dress; it was something Mandil taught her in secret from Bellaniel, figured she would need this knowledge should she be in a grave danger. It was different from the common known blood magic; hers was primordial and basic, relying on the blood flowing through the creatures of flesh. One way to use it was to draw blood of a target, allowing her to control it indefinitely; there could be multiple targets at once, up to a full army, with, possibly, no limitations, though she had no opportunity, or will, to test it. The other way was to manipulate a target though the power of her own blood, ideal for covert operations and perfect for remote control. Both had their drawbacks: first was messy, leaving wounds on the victims, having literal strings attached that get severed with a distance; the second required constant concentration, and she couldn’t hold it for a long period of time, draining her of her powers, - Now speak, - the flesh under her hand relaxed, and she removed herself from the body, - From the beginning, - she commanded the servant, smearing his warm blood in between her fingers.

… She made her way down a green cavern, voices becoming louder and louder. It was dank in here, moldy smells in the air; the cave floor was muddy, footprints barely visible in the wet dirt, occasional slide marks too – someone lost their footing and slipped on the slope. Luckily, she didn’t notice any signs of fight or struggle.

The servant, or rather his willing body, proved useful in tracking down the abductors. The people behind the kidnapping were some backwater nobles of the Reach, merchants by trade, criminals by fate, barely known to the world; the business became harder with the more frequent attacks of the foresworn and the vampires, and their town in the middle of nowhere quickly depopulated, turning into a shadow of its former self… Like it was blooming before, Kanarielle snorted. Apparently, they were helped by some families once or twice with soldiers, food and gold, but their inability at keeping it together turned away their former allies, leaving them alone. Fast forward few years later, and the family finally resorted to racketeering, trying their “best” to help their town to survive. They should’ve just left it altogether, there was nothing valuable in the area safe for a small field of crops and an iron mine.

Kana warned him, told him to be careful around the nobility, to trust no one and be on a high alert, but he did not listen. He was careless around people, bothered by something so much he had lowered his guard down; she tried her best to keep him out of harm’s way, but failed, letting him slip from her constant surveillance. Now where was he? Kidnapped, held captive as a tool to regain someone else’s power; he was here somewhere, hopefully not dead or sick. The Soranos didn’t know, not yet, neither did know Meltem about what happened – she kept her discovery secret, preferring to keep it quiet to keep the collateral damage as low as it could be possible. An easy job, infiltrate and rescue, she’s done this a hundred times already with Jack. So far she did good, only once having to knock out a brute at the entrance; entering a combat would be a death sentence for her alone without anyone to back her up.

The servant uncovered their ploy. The merchants turned criminals joined together with a group of highway robbers: the first were to find an unsuspecting target and to gain their trust – they still were nobles despite the shady dealings; the second were to wait outside for the first to render the target unconscious to abduct them to a secluded retreat far into the forests; the nobles then would be free of any suspicions, and later can present the wounded party with their help, saying they… found the culprits through their connections in exchange for a favor and some fame points. And Mark just made their entire bank and more, Kanarielle shook her head disapprovingly, they probably didn’t expect to make it with a hostage of his size.

She climber up a ledge, observing the roaming bandits below: she counted five of them, all minding their own business; they did not seem to notice an intruder yet. Behind – she passed three more, and she had no idea how many of them were ahead. “How much you think we gonna get for he arse?” – she heard one of them asking the other. Kanarielle slowly exhaled, not knowing she had her breath held this whole time, relieved with the question - it meant these bandits were still on the same page with the merchants back at the party. “We’re better off selling him to someone else”, - another voice chimed in, low and worried, “The kid’s a Sorano, his granny won’t leave us alive once we do the deal”. Right, the girl thought, the merchants told them there’s going to be a negotiation, but failed to mention them slaughtering all the bandits to keep them quiet and away from their own affairs. “We have our orders! The boy is to be sold to his family. Our patrons shall cover us”, - another one spoke, flailing around with a rusty mace of his. A dangerous stuff, Kana noted, as she noticed a sick yellow aura radiating from it, the glow floating on the surface of the metal. “You so sure?” – the man from before replied, sarcastic tone of his voice, definitely having experience in this matter, “Our dear “patrons” might as well rescue the kid themselves! You know how they operate, we mustn’t trust them. Gotta sell the boy to someone else, get our gold, save our lives as well while we can…”

Kanarielle didn’t listen to them any longer, dropping down from the ledge, trying not to slip on the wet floor, and proceeded further. She sneaked behind the rocks and furniture, snippets of their conversation getting to her ears, none registering though. Her mind was still at the thoughts expressed by the last guy – little idea he had about how close to the truth he was; their “patrons” were to rescue the elf in a few hours, slaughtering each and every single one of them on sight so they wouldn’t tell the truth to Esmir.

Another bend of the tunnel, and she saw cages and a guard, so carelessly standing with his back wide open to the entrance, watching after the precious prisoner. Without wasting anymore time, she sneaked up on him, delivering a sharp blow with a dagger right under his ribs. His blood rushed to the wound, turning her hand red; the man did not utter a word, but tried to fight her and the feeling, yet the control over his body slipped away eventually, and she took over it herself, his blood like strings attached to her fingers.

- Guard the entrance, - she commanded quietly, blood shimmering in the weak light of the torches, - Do not let anyone in, tell them whatever you must. Do not pick a fight, try to stall them as long as you can, - the man nodded, turning on his heels.

She looked around herself; the elf was lying in front of her behind the bars, seemingly unconscious, thick metal cuffs around his wrists digging into his skin, a tight metal collar around the neck. The keys to the cages were lying flat on the wooden table across the room, covered in a layer of rust, all of the same shape and size, so it probably didn’t matter which one she used to open the locks.

Kanarielle entered the cell, kneeling before him and inspecting the shackles – runes were all over them, glowing lightly with violet, radiating something that made it harder for her to breathe, fatigue getting to her, probably enchanted with silence, draining the prisoner of his magic; they were prepared well, even predicted the possibility of a magic-capable hostage. She tried to open the locks with the keys from the cells, but none worked the key to the binds was probably in someone else’s hands, and she had no time to go back and look for it. The other way to rescue the elf was to disintegrate the metal altogether: the ayleid put her hands around the collar first, watching it start to age, rust flakes falling slowly until there was nothing left, all crumbled to dust, the enchantment gone as well. A wave of power washed over her as the barrier containing the magic was gone, and Mark gasped for air, his consciousness returning to him.

- What the…? – he tried to ask, but his throat was dry like a desert, preventing him from speaking more.

- Don’t talk, - Kana told him, cupping the cuffs with her hands, disintegrating those as well, the metal turning to rust and to dust, - Gonna tell you later. Can you walk? Gotta get out of here, - she got back on her feet, handing him a small flask of water she had stashed in a pocked. The elf finished the entire container in no time.

The kid tried to stand, shaking violently, muscles sore, but standing nonetheless. He was no fighter at the moment, more of a burden, and she had to get him out of here to the safety of his grandmother.

  ________________________________________________________

- Esmir was furious when I dragged your sorry ass to her, - the ayleid laughed lightly, applying a soothing balm to the irritation on the skin from the rusty metal cuffs on his wrists and his neck. There was some swelling here and there, bruises and scratches, but nothing that wouldn’t heal with the time, - Not gonna lie to you, it was scary, - Mark hissed quietly at the girl rubbing on his wounds. He was already sitting at the edge of the bed, ready to take off from the discomfort of the balm she was using, - Shit, sorry, but you gotta take it as it is, I’m no healer, - the elf silently nodded, turning his head to the side, - You know, your grandmother’s a terrifying woman. She was all fury for the first couple minutes, then calmed down, and next she was playing along with the guys who ‘napped you. Esmir, the helpless and innocent old lady, - she snickered. A crackling sound in the distance alerted her; she turned to look into the direction of the sound, but there was nothing. The Void was calm as well, so she paid no further attention to it, resuming the talk, - She sent Orlan after them, then went in herself. Dunno what happened there, but she was… ecstatic on their return, totally soaked in blood.

- Picked the wrong granny to mess with, - Mark laughed, coughing, still exhausted. It’s been a few days already, and he still hadn’t recovered from the incident, magic depleted. Esmir figured the shackles had some strong enchantment bound to them, and it would be for the best to let the kid rest in the Void, to let the place do its job; Kana brought him back here, staying at his side this whole time and tending to the bruises.

She added one last smear of the balm to the swelling on his neck and set the jar aside.

- Damn, you never told me she had a daedra for a lover. Disgusting. And what’s even more disgusting is that it said it’s your… I’m sorry, half-brother? – she had a mixed expression on her face, disgust with repulsion and confusion sprinkled on top.

Mark groaned.

- Don’t ask. Father’s side. Luckily they aren’t related. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, she can do anything, - he brushed it off as if it was a no biggie. Really, it was a no big deal for the woman, she found interest in everyone and everything that moved and had some semblance of personality to them. Her main lover was her bodyguard and ex-general Orlan, whom she trusted with her life and everything she had. The other was the daedra, Walerian, and she praised him as a versatile worker bee, though Mark wished he didn’t know that; he was the usual resident of her beds, and she loved showing him off in the public. Another one was a woman she mentioned once, an old altmer mage, but he couldn’t remember her name, and an unknown dunmer with violet eyes. Esmir was a married woman though, not even a widow, yet that did not hold her back in her love affairs.

- That is gross. Anyways, - Kanarielle covered her face with the palms of her hands, trying to make her face relax after cringing so hard, - It? He then? said they had a fun time messing with them, - she paused, listening to the sudden footsteps sounds growing louder and louder, as if someone was getting closer, but the Void, Catherine, didn’t alert her to the intruder, so she tried to not mind it, - He went into the details, but I had to cut him short. Really disgusting, thank you very much, and I’d rather not hear about the guts hanging for the ceiling and eventual… you get the idea. Super gross. Apparently they had some fricky time in the pools of blood and right on top of the corpses, - she added quietly, gagging. Esmir did enjoy some blood and gore plays.

Someone walked into the room, their steps echoing against the stone.

- What happened here? – the silver-haired man inquired, looking at the elves on the bed, blood dripping from his hands and a huge serrated sword, leaving a red trail behind. He lowered the weapon with its jagged edges near the entrance, the blade making a clacking sound against the stone.

Mark shushed at Kanarielle, giving her the most intense looks she’s ever seen in her entire life. His face went from asking to threatening to murderous and to pleading, but she had none of it.

- No biggie, - she winked at the elf, - this dumbass got himself kidnapped, - the girl shrugged her shoulders as the dumbass in question hit her lightly into her thigh. Aspen cocked his eyebrow at them, - He oughtta know what kind of idiot you are, stop being pissy, - the elf rolled his eyes, giving the ayleid the middle finger, - I’m wounded! – she exclaimed, - Alright, cue taken, gonna leave you two, - Kana raised her hands into the air, getting up from the bed and leaving the room.

Aspen took off his blood soaked coat at the entrance, disposing of it rather untidily. There was a hint of worry in his otherwise blank face, and it took the elf by surprise when the man approached him.

- You hurt? – his voice uncharacteristically concerned, - Let me see, - he reached his hand out to the elf, trying to catch him by his arm, but the elf pulled away, almost jumping, violently shaking his head.

- You ain’t touching me with those, - he pointed at the coagulated, almost dried out blood on his fingers. Face nonchalant, Aspen grabbed a fistful of clean purple bed sheets and wiped the hands with them, reaching to the elf once again. Mark groaned, giving him his hand at last, - Who’s blood is that?

The man gently touched the swollen bruise, his fingers finding the wet sticky balm Kanarielle applied a few minutes ago; he stroked the entire scar lengthwise, occasionally drawing huffs and puffs from the elf: it’s been less than a week since the incident, but the area under the binds still hurt as if covered in tiny invisible cuts.

- Not mine, - Aspen answered with a low and tired voice, letting go of the hand and switching over to the bruise on the neck, - Should be gone in a week, - the man concluded, pulling the elf’s black haired head closer, giving a quick peck under the jaw and letting go.

Aspen looked drained, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, the elf noted, watching him from below remove messy articles of clothing; he looked like he’s about to crash, and his gear did not want to cooperate with the fatigue. Mark had to stand up; he stopped him with a gesture of his hand, grabbing the apparel himself and pulling down, discarding near the bed – he’ll tidy it up later. The man thanked him faintly, clumsily climbing on the bed, crashing into the sheets with eyes already closed; the elf sat at the edge, looking all over him for a moment: he seemed uninjured, just deadly tired.

- So, when are you returning? – Mark asked after a long pause, having nothing else to ask. Aspen tilted his head at the elf, one eye barely open, sighing in exhaustion before closing it again, - Fine, gonna leave you alone then.

- Stay, - he muttered, catching the elf by his forearm before he would get up. With the residue of strength he had left, Aspen pulled him onto the bed, a tad higher than himself, - I have to get some sleep, - he told him as if explaining an obvious concept to a toddler, throwing his arm around elf’s waist to keep him grounded. The man was tense, muscles stiff and rigid, - Need to get going in a few hours, - his words carried a concealed plea, and if Mark didn’t know him any better, it would go unnoticed.

He nodded, awkwardly climbing higher onto the bed, almost curling around the man, around his head and the torso; his white hair smelled of iron and gunpowder, a hint of ash too as he combed through it, the scent becoming stronger as he planted gentle kisses. Aspen softened into the feeling, brows relaxing, breath steady. Mark smiled gingerly, his hand going lower, caressing man’s temples softly, thumb brushing the high cheekbones; eventually, both drifted to sleep.

  ________________________________________________________

Mark was woken up by a scent of marigolds with faint notes of lemon balm, thyme and sage, all carried with an overwhelmingly sweet and sour aroma of sea buckthorn. He cringed; he loved the tree, it was absolutely unique in its looks of silver needle-like leaves and amber fruit, yet the berries’ taste was disgusting in his book, and it made him want to get away from it as far as he could.

Something touched his neck, warm and oily, thick liquid slowly going down his skin, rerouted by a touch somewhere else. He opened his eyes; instead of seeing Kanarielle with the tingling, itchy balm Esmir’s healer gave them, he found Aspen bent over him with a smelly jar in his hand, amber of color, applying the oil to the bruise on his neck.

- Miss Aquilla brought me the ingredients I asked her, - he noticed the elf wake up. Mark winced, the smell of the berries too strong to bear. The man smiled; he put the jar aside to pet the elf on the head with his clean hand, leaning closer to kiss him on the forehead, - The one you used before caused irritations, had to make something different, - his fingers dipped into the oil again, smearing another portion of it on the other side of the neck, gently rubbing it in until it stopped dripping.

- Thanks, - the elf mumbled, trying to get up; Aspen pulled him up, switching his attention to the bruises on the wrists, - Thought you needed to get going, - Mark said, watching the man rub in the oil into his skin; he’s bound to be smelling funny the whole day. The man nodded.

- I have some time left, - he switched onto the other wrist, - Need to tend to your bruises first, - the jar was finally closed, and Mark exhaled in relieve; surprisingly, the new mixture didn’t sting at all like the fat-based balm before did, and he’ll probably get used to the smell later on, - Mark, why can’t I leave you alone? – Aspen suddenly asked, grabbing him by his hands, taking the elf by surprise. He sounded like a disappointed teacher, - You have to be more careful, - the man explained, drawing a wheezing laugh from him, - I’m being serious, Mark, - he paused, - I don’t want to come back one day and find you missing a limb, - Mark laughed nervously, staring at the weary man; the intense look in his eyes said more than he needed to know, filling the elf with guilt the more he kept staring. He muttered an “I’m sorry” under his breath, shifting his gaze somewhere to his feet, fidgeting with fingers, “I’ll be more careful”, - I know you are worried as well, - Aspen pulled the elf in a hug, feeling him rest his chin on his shoulder, - I will be back soon.

- Yeah, - Mark sighed, hiding his face in the crook of man’s neck, - Haven’t heard anything from you for almost two weeks, and last night you appeared soaked in blood. Can’t mind my own safety when I don’t know if you’re okay or not.

- I’ll be back soon, promise, - he repeated, pulling away, - I have some unfinished business, it won’t take long, - Aspen kissed him on the forehead, getting up from the bed, - Have to get going now, - he told him, collecting his gear lying around on the floor haphazardly, the blood dried out and flaking already, leaving red spots throughout the clothing; Mark rose up after, helping him put the apparel on him.

- You are disgustingly sweet, - Kanarielle took both by surprise, silently entering the room, almost sneaking up on them, - Might as well start selling all that sugar of yours… Here, the last piece of your order, - she came up to them, handing Aspen a leather pouch filled with something, hard edges prominent under the hide. The man thanked her with a nod, palpating the purse and the contents inside; happy with the thing delivered, he kissed the elf goodbye and bowed to the ayleid, - Boy, aren’t you two looking like a couple of mushy puppies, - she commented, watching the man leave them alone and disappear into the portal.

- Kana, - Mark suddenly called her, weirdly excited. Her comment was ignored, - tell me, why can’t I make shortcuts through the Void?

- Shortcuts? – she was taken aback by his question, expecting anything but this. She furrowed her brows, looking for a better answer. Unlike the Void that one could access from anywhere, the Sanctuary had a single door inside and out, connected through a disguised portal to a series of flooded long caverns for a more difficult access inside a mountain range in Skyrim. To travel from within the realm, Bellaniel had built a secret chamber with hundreds of doors, all connecting to the outside world, and she was the only one who had the keys to get in and out, - Well, the Void is closer to a pocket realm: you exit where you enter, - the girl explained, gathering her thoughts together, - It’s like a hub; to exit elsewhere you need to have a door or two with an anchor in the world outside. Something like that.

- Can we make them? – he inquired cautiously, thinking about the prospect, - And are there any security risks?

The elf girl laughed.

- You are bothered by the security? Oh boy, Mark, you can make it so no one gets there, ever. This whole place belongs to you, you are the master key; you give and revoke invitations to the place, it’s as secure as nothing will ever be, - she hugged him by his shoulders, ruffling his hair, - I have no idea how to open or make doors, but… - Kanarielle listened to the breeze, - but I think Catherine is more than happy to help us.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Needs

Summary- Ransom x You. You can feel yourself spiraling out of control, and Ransom sets you straight. Warnings- Dominance, degradation. NSFW

Word Count-2.7 k

Most days your fine, normal, able to laugh, smile, tease your boyfriend, put up with his attitude and general snarkiness in strides. It all worked, you were happy and in love with the bastard. 

But once in a while, you would slip into a place hard to describe. It would start with a moment of distance. Ransom would be venting about something, usually his family. They were the primary source of his frustration although he leaned heavily on Harlans financial support. Then he would pause, his eyes snapping over you as you seemed not there. “Whats wrong with you?” a bit of snark lacing his voice, and you would just smile a bit and come back to focus on him. “Nothing, Im fine. So Walt really said that?” 

He would look doubtful, but wouldnt comment anymore on your strange behavior for the time being. 

And that would be the start of your despair. It would start to consume you till it traveled into your chest, aching, heavy. Your body to would start to loose interest in touches and affection, pulling away when he would reach for you during the night. It was nothing Ransom done, and he would ask you once more “Whats wrong Y/N?” Leaning over you in the dark, but you had no real answer. You could feel him withdraw, leaning to sit up against the headboard, the tension brewing. 

Then the day came you couldnt handle it anymore. Your skin was crawling, and no amount of distractions would help. Your mind buzzed incessantly with nothingness and everything. You needed it to shut the fuck up. When you heard Ransom coming up the steps and the door click, you fell to your knees with a bowed head, waiting for him to enter. Once he did, you head his audible sharp intake of breath. Please fix me, I need you. Silently you plead while not moving an inch. 

Ransom admired you, he knew this was coming. Recognizing that dark little demon that had made its home in you for a lifetime, it matched well with his own. He approached you, his hand gentle at first along your jaw, his thumb brushing over the softness of your cheeks, this little soft hairs near your hairline, going to cling at his hand. But softness is to much, not want you need, and hes well aware. 

The touch swiftly changed, going from caring to bruising as he grabbed your chin, fingers digging right into the fleshy part of your cheeks and tipping your head up so he could study you, and when your eyes met his, he snarled out “Did I tell the whore she could look at me?” Immediately your gaze dropped, his hand went to his pants, snapping open the button and unzipping the fly. Taking himself out, a few pumps around his erection made him stiff. Fingers digging in enough to pop your jaw to open. “Dont you dare loose a single drop slut.” He continued harshly, and you nodded, your words slurred from the grip he still had on you. “May I use my hands Sir?” 

“Hands behind your back, your taking all of it” Ransom let go and fisted his hands in your hair, to hold you in place, the head of his cock slipping around your mouth and the tip of your tongue slides out to trace the head, flicking over his sit to and then he dominated your mouth, choking around him. “See, I knew you didnt need to use your hands, such a good little whore.” You do your best, your hands folding behind you, fingers locking together to keep from pressing them against his thighs to slow his thrusts down. Finally you match his thrusts, your tongue sloppily curling around his length, your cheeks hollowing as you suck on him. Heavy as he slams into the back of your throat, over you his grunts make you squirm, trying your best not to look up to see his expression. 

Soon your gagging, messy between drool and tears brimming from your eyes when he looks down at you, drenching his cock and balls sloppinly when he pulls you closer, the spiral of heat snapping his gut as his cum shot the back of your throat, your eyes rolling up finally as you whimpered, doing your best to take it as he had told you to, brimming on the edge of your lips when he finally pulled from you and tucked himself back away. The tip of your tongue traces your lips to clean up quickly, slouching slightly even though his hand still is twisted roughly in your hair, it stings with a hiss as he jerks you enough to lift you to your feet. 

“Dont forget, I own you little slut. Now get undressed and on the bed now. Do you understand me?” His head tilted as he stared you down, loosening his hold when you again dropped your gaze, Ransom dared you to defy him, but you knew better. “Yes Sir…” 

“Go” he wrenched his hand away, and you were quick to escape to the bedroom while he went off to the kitchen. Tugging away your clothes and putting them into a pile, you folded them carefully and set them on the floor, on your side of the bed and crawled into the center, again taking a similar kneeling pose as before. When Ransom came back into the room, a tumbler of whisky in hand. Seeing you so patient, he was quick to finish it off, setting the tumbler aside on the nightstand “My little whore, so patiently waiting for me after being so good earlier. Its not going to save you though.” He promised as he placed a kiss on your lips, drawing out your tongue and slipping over your teeth, dragging your lips into a bite. 

“Face down in those pillows, ass up high. Spread those thighs till I can see your pussy.” 

You were quick to oblige, hearing him behind you rummaging through his chest drawers. You knew your ass was about to burn, but from what? You didnt have to wait to long when you felt the dip of the bed behind you, a glance over your shoulder showed that he had undressed as well. A sharp sting of his hand against your ass was issued when you looked back, growling out. “I said face down in the pillows.” You should have known better. His fingers traced the red handprint he left, admiring the way your back curved down, and you displayed yourself just for him, his fingers slipping between slickened folds.” Did eating my cock make you this wet, or have you been a needy little slut well before I came home?” spreading your slickness over your folds, around your clit. A slight pinch to your nerves made you yelp into the pillow “Answer me, I know you havent forgotten how to talk” 

“From sucking you off Sir.” You imagined the satisfied smirk behind you playing across his face. Thats when you heard the whir of a vibrator, and he ran it along the back of your thighs, slipping to the inside of them. Ransom was always adding new toys to your collection, but he knew this happened to be a favorite of yours, making you come undone at the seams, but it was a two edged sword. He would bring it so close, making you bite your lip at the anticipation. A frustrated groan would fall from you, and his sharp laughter would come from behind you. “What, little slut cant wait to get what she wants?” 

You knew better then to answer him, he was waiting for it though, letting the vibrator hover close to your aching pussy, but not giving it to you. Your ass sways, and that gets a sharp broad slap of a paddle, pushing you forward into the pillows. Right after that, Ransom slid the vibrator against your core, making the sting burn in all the best ways. The warmth of it traveled up your spine, and you arched further, crushing your chest into the mattress, and your back bending in a sharp curve. The vibes from the toy left you squirming slightly now, dripping mess. Ransoms hand replaced the paddle, digging his fingers into your ass cheek, pushing it up and jerking your hips back against him as you tried to pull away from the overload of sensations the vibrator rattling your core. “Oh no my little Slut, theres no getting away from it.” He leaned over and gave a sharp bite to your cheek.

You start whining into the pillows, fisting your hands into your designer sheets he insisted on having, panting as he upped the speed of the vibrator, your toes locking and legs half lifting off the bed. “Ransom, oh fuck.” Your pushing yourself back against the vibrator to dig into your pussy, harder, your eyes are rolling back in your head and taunt like your about to snap. The tension is hurting your muscles that cant loosen, they are about to break, and he pushed that vibrator up another speed, causing you to crash without permission. Your scream still sharp in the pillows and you try to drag any kind of air into your lungs, but the pillows are suffocating. Ransom turns off the vibrator and tosses it away. 

Leaning over you as your still struggling to lift your head in these seconds, his frame leans over you and he fists his hand back in your hair, lifting your head to hear you drag in a gasp of air finally. “Fuck little whore, you came without permission.” He hissed against your neck, biting at your cheek, and down onto your neck, ripping his hand away for you to drop into the pillows. His hands curved around your hips and jerked them into where he wanted you. You shift to your elbows, or attempt to, but his hand wraps on the back of your neck, shoving you back into the pillows, twisting your head enough so you werent smothered. The thick head of his cock pushed against your entrance. 

it was a hard snap, his thick cock felt like it was splitting you open, and there was no moment to adjust. Quick snaps of his hips slapping against the back of your thighs and ass, the tight hold of his hold on the back of your neck keeping you in place, but jerking you into the mattress beneath you. His feet locked behind your ankles to keep you legs spread and in place. There was no escaping him, driving himself deeper into you, was there anyplace he wasnt? It was as if he was rearranging your insides. 

“Fuck Y/N” the first time since you two started he used your name, his slaps behind you bruising. He released his hold to slid under your chin, snapping your head up, and his fingers filled your mouth, unable to muffle the whines and cries now, his chest burned against your back, his teeth and mouth laying claim to your neck and shoulder, it wasnt kisses, it was inhalation of skin. firm sharp bites digging in, pulling sucking remarks of how good a fuck you were pressed into your ear as he bit your lobe, and all you could do was hold on best you could, your hands ripping into the sheets. Your channel clenching around his cock, but that didnt slow him any, and he ripped another screaming orgasm from you. 

Shaking uncontrolled, you are sure hes ready to end you. But he pulls out and with a grasp to your hips, he whips you onto your back and jerks you down the bed till your perfectly flat. “No Ransom Im done” You claim, and he wraps your legs around your hips, catching the first glimpse you have had of him, his hair is disheveled in a flop over his eyes, and the tops of his cheeks are flushed red, his chest heaving slightly in exertion. He pops his hand against your breast, pulling the nipple with a sharpness that has you arching from it with a cry. “You dont look done to me, your not dripping my cum from that sweet little hole of yours. Were done when I say were done Slut.” 

He was right, you reach to touch him, but his hand catches your wrists and slams them down above your head as he fills you again. “And your sweet pussy is just taking me so well. Going to leave you full of my cum. Cant let you forget who owns you.” Ransom grasped your breast, pulling and twisting till you were arching for more, or to try to break his hold, your not sure. It was a border line or pleasure and pain. He replaced it with his mouth, hot tongue and sharp bites holting you from his mouth with his hard thrusts, your hips rolling to meet him. Your fingers twisted in his hold, and head falling back as all of it, the sensations were becoming an overwhelming mess , and you snapped, coming again, your orgasm ripping you apart at the seams. Screaming his name and he lifted his head from where he was biting and kissing your breasts. Your tears streaming down your face, and there it was, finally. 

Ransom had gotten you were you needed to be, that hard dominating look softened and shifted enough to cup the back of your head, and kissed you deeply, grunting against your lips as he chased his own orgasm, his hips rutting out of sync now and burying himself as he filled you, just as he promised he would. A few unsteady rolls of his hips spread his cum through you, and you just cried at all of it, his arms wrapping around you and rolling enough so that you laid against his chest, rubbing your back deeply and speaking softly as you cried against his neck. “Now thats my good girl, I got you its okay. So good to me, I love how well you took all that.” His hands would brush through your hair and everywhere was gentle touches, caresses bringing you back to him. 

Soft kisses rove over the bite marks he had left of your neck and shoulder. You ache, you can feel how hes still buried in you, but soft now. Everything is about bringing you back down. Finally you lift your face and look up at him. “Can I have a bath?” 

“Of course, let me just go set it up.” He moved you to curl up next to him and he slid from the bed, and into the bathroom. Ransom was alot of things, but these moments, you wouldnt know that he could be a spoiled trust fund brat. Everything was about taking care of you. All the way from drawing a bath, to easing you into the tub, he sat behind you and did things such as wash your back and took his time with your hair, sure to use your favorite washes. He even toweled dried you and brought you back to bed. “Hows take out sound tonight?” 

“Yea that sounds really good” You started to perk up as you sat at the headboard of the bed, and he winked pulling out his phone. He knew your order, and he left the room to make the call. You wait, stretching yourself out, and once he returns, he fell down on the bed next to you, grabbing the remotes, flipping through the channels on the wide screen tv hanging across the room. It was an easy silence between you two when he settled it on a movie you two had seen many times before. Ransom was sitting against the headboard, your head laying on his stomach as you lay crossways across the bed. His fingers trailed slowly through your hair, the tv softly muffled and the only glow in the room. 

After several minutes, he spoke, his voice catching your attention. “Are you feeling better now Y/N?” You twist so that your able to look up at him, laying on your back, still pillowed on his stomach. 

“Yes thank you Ransom” 

“Anytime Sweetheart, you know I love you, but next time tell me before it gets that bad.” 

@what-is-your-plan-today​ @official-and-unstable-satan​ @jtargaryen18​ @p8tn0lish​ @imanuglywombat​

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego x reader

Chapter 4- The Majestic 12

Summary: Although, your wounds are able to heal instantaneously, Diego’s are not and for that he payed the price. In the aftermath of getting shanked, you give Diego some much needed TLC. Now you, Diego, and Five, are on the hunt at some gala for any valuable information, regarding the activities of Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

If you want tagged just hit me up. Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @fandomoverlord221 @la-vie-en-amour1​ @2cuteforyourlies​ @thatfandombitcch

Sitting next to Diego on the couch, you rip off his bandage, intently listening to Five ramble on about the Vanya situation as you attend to his healing injury.

“So what you just let her go.” Asks Diego surprised.

“Well, Vanya had a lot to process.” He says matter-of-factly. “She’ll come around. I know she will.”

“What about the guys that went after her?” You ask him, while ripping off some medical tape for Diego’s new bandage.

“The Swedes?”

“Yeah, how do you know they won’t go after her again?” You question, taking a cup of hot coffee from Elliot.

“We don’t.”

“Do you have any idea who sent them?” Lila asks Five, taking a sip of coffee from her own cup.

With a knowing smile, Five answers her, “Oh, I have my suspicions.” You guessing it probably has to do with Five’s colorful background coming back to bite him. “But right now, our priority is finding Dad and getting answers, cause everything else depends on it.”

“Which for the record, I found him already.” Diego adds, you hold in a chuckle at how well that interaction went.

“And then let him go before we could have a meaningful conversation.” Sasses Five with that stupid I-know-more-then-you smirk.

“He stabbed me.” Says Diego bluntly, trying to make a point as to why things didn’t go well.

“I’m surprised he waited this long, Diego. We’ve all had the urge.” Jabs Five yet again. Causing you to snort and start laughing out loud along with Lila and Elliot. Getting an offended look from Diego, you turn you face to give him a kiss on his cheek in an attempt at lessening his hurt pride.

“Good thing I know where Dad’s gonna be tonight.” Five says, handing Diego a piece of folded paper.

Reaching across the small coffee table to grab it, he sits down next to you again, holding up the parchment for you to both read. Leaning in, you look at its contents, as Five continues to talk. “Found it at his office while he was busy stabbing you.” Five says sarcastically, as Diego fake laughs.

“Hoyt Hillenkoetter and the Consultant General of Mexico in Dallas cordially invite you to a gala.” Diego reads.

“Whoa, wait. Hoyt Hillenkoetter? Are you serious?” Questions Elliot, apparently knowing something none of you four do.

“You know him?” You ask curious.

“We should go, says there’s gonna be a seafood tower.” Lila adds randomly, having looked it over before, when Five wasn’t looking. You nod to her, looking at Diego. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a suite.” You wink, earning a warm smile from him.

“No, Hillenkoetter is...is one of the Majestic Twelve.” Elliot says slightly nervously.

“The hell are the Majestic Twelve?” Questions Diego. As you quickly throw an orange slice in his mouth.

“It’s a...a secret committee. Uh, scientists, militarily, uh, deep state.” Rambles Elliot, walking over to his desk looking for something he continues. “No one really knows what they do.”

Scoffing you add, “Huh, they sound like a blast.”

“Wait, so they’re government?” Diego grunts, trying to sit up better.

“Shadow Government. Yeah, Kennedy was the first President to try to push ‘em into the light, but these guys are not to be trifled with. Oh, here we go. Ah, right here.” Elliot says bringing a photograph over to the four of you. “That’s Hoyt right there.” He points.

Examining the picture you notice only 11 men. “Weird there’s only 11 of them.”

“Well, that’s because they’ve only identified 11 so far.” Adds Elliot.

“Who’s the twelfth?” Diego asks looking at the photograph. You look to Five, raising your eyebrow in that you-thinking-what-I’m-thinking mutual understanding, him doing the same. Oh boy, here we go.

——

Arriving at the gala dressed in your best attire, a slightly uncomfortable dark blue dress and flats. You, Diego, Five, and Lila, hide behind a short brick wall type structure. Each of you peaking your heads over the edge to get a better view of the place full of richly dressed people. Quickly Diego climbs up and over the stones, you three following suit and crouching close to the nearby parked cars.

“So, what’s the plan guys?” Asks Lila quietly.

“Don’t answer that.” You warn Diego. Who ignores you, trying to be the smart tough guy once again. “We infiltrate, we identify, we extract. Double time.” 

“I feel like I’m in a spy movie.” You whisper to yourself.

“What the hell’s he talking about.” Lila asks from behind you turning her question to Five, who’s crouched at the rear of the pack.

“Find the old man and get out fast.” He says smartly.

“That’s what I said.” Diego looks back at them, like what he said before wasn’t obvious enough.

“Alright 007, lets go.” You say, touching is shoulder and pushing ever so slightly for emphasis. Turning forward he crouch walks to the next car, you trailing him. Suddenly your ears catch the conversation between Lila and Five a couple cars over. You raise your eyebrow at Five’s untrustworthiness towards Lila, amused by their little conversation. Now that you think about it, you have assumed some odd shit could be up with her, but you’ve been playing along this whole time. Not wanting to state the obvious yet, you needed more time and suspicious proof first of any false behavior.

——

Walking into the wealthy looking establishment, you take a drink off a waiters tray. Giving it a sniff, before taking a small sip enjoying the fizzy liquid sliding down your throat. “I don’t see Dad anywhere.” Diego says, looking around the room full of wealthy strangers.

“Just keep an eye out for the Majestic Twelve. I got the upstairs.” Five tells you three, alcoholic beverage already in hand. “Diego, try not to do anything stupid. Y/N, watch him.” He adds, walking away. As Lila walks off towards the seafood table.

You sniff the air, trying to catch a familiar scent, maybe if old Reggie really is here, you’d be able to smell his stupid suffocating cologne. A second later trumpets start to play to a well known tune. You suddenly feel the urge to dance, excited now that your old dance partner’s back. Walking through the crowd while pulling on Diego’s tie, you lead him to the dance floor.

Diego pulls you to him, trying to gain control of the situation unfolding before is very eyes. The two of you are almost eye to eye with each other, as you hold onto one another closely. As the mariachi band continues to play, Diego twists you around, your back now to him. He lets his hands trail down your sides without so much as single protest from you, you’re enjoying this way to much. You twirl grabbing his hands before he can go any lower. Your hands wander up to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably caressing your lower back. “Someone’s got moves.” You look up at him stating the obvious.

“Well the old man did insist on making us take those ballroom dancing lessons.” He looks at you lovingly before continuing, now mimicking Sir Reginald’s voice. “One never knows when the paso doble will be the difference between life and death...” “children” You both smile, saying the last part together as Diego dips you.

“My turn.” You say while giving him a mischievous grin. Pulling yourself up with Diego still holding you close, you take the lead. Surprising him in the process, much to your amusement.

“What are you doing?” He asks, taken aback at your sudden dominance.

“Just follow my lead.” You saying smiling sweetly at him.

“Uh, Y/N, no. I’m the man here.” Diego says dazed by the abrupt change in the dance positioning, you smirk at him, thoroughly enjoying how you’ve taken him off guard.

Grabbing his hands you smoothly twist him around so his back is now to you. Using your left hand you touch his cheek, hastily bringing his undivided attention straight to your own beaming face. Quickly giving him a kiss before pushing his face away once more, twirling him around, and positioning yourself back to how you two first began. With his right hand on your hip and your left on his shoulder, you two holding hands and swaying to the music. He pulls you in closer to his chest, your faces inches apart as you turn your head to laugh into his broad shoulder. You can feel him kiss the side of your face as he smoothly sways you to the music, he follows your gaze as you adjust yourself to look up into his chocolate eyes.

“You have no idea how glad I am to have found you again.” He gives you another chaste kiss in reply.

“Sorry you had to wait for my ass for so long, if I would have known you were in Dallas.” You let out a small laugh, biting your lip to hold in a smile as he continues to sway you around to the festive music.

“Instead you got yourself arrested within the first day of being here. I don’t know if I should be impressed or not....Diego Hargreeves you are truly...something.” His face breaks out into an embarrassed smile as he leans his head down onto your shoulder to hide his redness, only you would be able to make him lose his cool, and so easily at that. He picks his head up once again to stare adoringly into you bright eyes, his eyes flickering down to your parted lips for a fraction of a second. Your face breaks out into a Cheshire Cat-like grin at the absolute wonderful cuteness of Diego. 

“So how’d I do last night? Since you know, it’s been awhile for you. I think I still got it Y/N.” He says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, you roll your eyes at his implication of last nights love-making, he’s so bold.

“Satisfactory.”

“Just satisfactory? Babe I think I was really doing a great job. You sure looked like you agreed at the time.”

“Okay fine. You were incredibly stunningly marvelous, a perfect 10 out of 10. The review says she would do it again.” He smiles in deep satisfaction at your praising of his more intimate talents. You just give him a slight half annoyed eye roll, only you two would be scoring each other on how well your I-missed-you sex was.

When you look up at his face again, he isn’t smiling anymore, attention now snagged by some shinier fish. You twist your neck right, following his distracted gaze. “It can’t be.” He whispers in disbelief, breaking away from you to go see... Grace. Letting him go, you silently follow him, hiding behind a white pillar as you eves drop onto their conversation. Holy shit, Grace was a real person and she was Sir Reginald’s frickin date, you thought to yourself almost as shocked as Diego probably is. You listen more intently, and cackle at the comment Grace gives Diego about being a little odd. You’re definitely not wrong about that, you’d like to tell her.

Watching Grace walk past you and towards who knows where, you come out from behind the pillar to face Diego, who’s standing there with his arms folded, looking rather lost. “Well that went swimmingly.” You quip.

Diego breaks from his thoughtful trance, rolling his eyes as he walks on over to you, taking your bent arm in his. “I guess we should probably find Lila, huh.” He adds. “Perhaps we shall.” You say in a posh English accent, giving him a wink as he lets out a breathy laugh at your theatrics.

——

Leaning against the wall, watching as the other party-goers make boring conversation with each other. You push yourself off the marble surface and begin walking towards Diego, who’s obliviously looking at a chandelier like an intrigued child. Right on cue, you hear a thud coming from up above you and then aggressive shuffling around. Five is the strongest guess most likely, and someone else. Hearing a quiet “Oh, shit.” Coming from Five you decide it’s probably best to not leave him hanging.

Turning to Diego, while also unknowingly gaining the attention of Lila. You whisper yell for him to follow you up the stairs to Five’s rescue. Racing up the steps in record time with Diego not far behind you. You look to your right, noticing in surprise that Five’s in a bit of a scuffle with one of the blonde Swedes that tried shooting you, Diego, and Lila earlier. Stopping for a brief moment, not entirely sure what to do as this is indeed very odd. You hear footsteps quickly approaching from behind you, smelling the scent of sweat and anger in its wake.

A second later you hear Diego yell out your name in distress as your hair is pulled back and a belt is tightly wrapped around your windpipe. Getting dragged back down the hallway, completely taken off guard, you struggle to breath as your eyes go wide in astonishment. Your gaze shifts to Diego, as he angrily sprints to you, charging at the taller Swede who’s about to gut punch you with brass knuckles. Fuck.

Bracing yourself, ready to get the wind knocked out of you. Diego heroically pushes the guy into the wall, punching him hard in the face. Your throat is suddenly released, only for the shorter Swede to turn you around and crack you across the side of your head with his belt. Kicking you out of the way and across the floor you tumble, your head stinging in pain. Dazed, from the not even 20 second violent actions you just got shoved into. You get up from the floor feeling a hot liquid running down the side of your face. Touching your temple, you pull your hand away to unveil deep red blood coating your fingers. This bitch is dead.

You look up instantly to watch in dismay as Diego is currently getting his ass whooped by the two pissed off Swedes. The one that was previously choking you, is now suffocating Diego with that fucking leather belt. After getting punched in the stomach by brass knuckle Swede, Diego kicks him to the ground, still struggling with the first who’s still doing his damn best to suffocate him. Grabbing a knife previously hidden in his pocket, he throws it with his free hand. Missing his target in the heat of the moment, which was intended to hit the other large Swede that’s beating the shit out of Five further down the hallway.

Fuming, with the rage of a bull at the manhandling you just unwillingly received. You rush forward throwing your right arm around the blonds throat that’s currently choking Diego. Pulling down hard, the Swede releases him, now struggling to breath from your own violent attack. The tables have turned, bitch. You aggressively throw him into the wall, kicking him hard in the stomach as you send him thrashing onto the carpeted floor.

Turning quickly to the sound of pained grunts, you watch as Diego gets punched in the stomach with the brass knuckles you so marvelously avoided. You catch sight of Lila, who looks to both of you before turning to Five and running to his aid. Alright then.

Only letting yourself get distracted for a moment, you turn back to your new little fighting buddy, who’s now standing and looking very enraged.

“Let’s dance.” You hiss at him with a bitter smirk, clenching your fists.

Hearing the sound of glass breaking behind you, you ignore it. As you face the blonde Swedish assassin, dodging a heated swing, you bring your left arm up to sucker punch him right in the guts. You turn around swiftly to face him again, only to receive a hard blow to your shoulder. He’s good, but not good enough. He goes to kick you in the legs, missing by an inch as you pull back just in time. Realizing he still has his belt clutched in his right hand, he cracks it at you with lightning speed. Time slows for a second as your senses begin to take over, giving you better reaction time. You turn to the right and watch as the shining silver of the belt buckle shows you your own distorted reflection. Catching the makeshift weapon mid-throw, you grab it tightly with your left fist. Pulling him towards you in the process, you then reach out and tightly seize his throat with your right hand. Throwing the leather belt off to the side and growling fiercely at his surprised face, you lift him up an inch or two off the ground. Struggling to breath and find his footing again, he suddenly shoots his arms up directly into your right one, that’s currently strangling him. You drop him, yelping in surprise at the sudden pain. Quickly gaining his bearings back, he jumps up on the wall for support, as he speedily throws himself at you, sucker punching you right in the cheekbone. Fucking ouch. Stumbling back from the aggressive hit to your face, you both begin intensely throwing punches at each other, getting a hit in here and there, while also managing to block most of his advances. Who knew you’d be reuniting with your lost lover and fighting Swedish assassins at a gala this week. Things have been weirder, you think, focusing back on the task at hand, literally. Grimacing in pain at the hit you just received to your shoulder, you jump up, kicking him into the wall and leaving a small dent. Slightly disoriented, he gets up again, blocking another one of your knee thrusts heading straight for his junk. Sometimes you fight dirty, okay. Throwing your left arm up to block a hit, you take this opportunity to twist yourself around to the right in a quick circle. Jutting your right elbow directly into the Swedes temple, knocking him unconscious. That’s right fucker, nighty night.

Your ears tune promptly to the sound of broken glass yet again, and the sound of Diego’s grunts mixed with that of the angry Swede he is currently fighting. You watch as they fight dirty, picking up whatever objects they could get their hands on as they continue to beat each other up down the hallway. Knocking blondie out with an impressive hit to his head, Diego looks out the window spotting Reginald and Grace standing outside ready to go home. You catch where his eyes are looking, observing the scene of them together for yourself.

You hear Diego whisper a soft, “Dad” before turning to you, worriedly looking at the stream of blood coming from the side of your hairline.

Pointing to the bloody spot you flash him a small smile. “You should see the other guy.”

Smiling briefly, he nods at you while turning towards the stairs and walking quickly down them, you right behind him. As the two of you make your way through the bustling crowd, right out the doors, and through the grass to the front entrance where Five is shouting something in another language at a retreating car.

“Was that him?” Diego questions.

“Yeah.” Five says, sounding like he’s out of breath.

“Jesus, it’s just one thing after the other” You add irritated. Fed up with all this Hargreeves nonsense. Especially those fucking Swedes.

[stones-x-bones]

You Don’t Have To Be Good || Deirdre and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @deathduty and @inbextween SUMMARY: Deirdre finds Bex in the fossil room and the two have a heart to heart. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mentions, References to child abuse

You’ll know human inferiority when you see how they don’t understand. Siobhan wiped Deirdre’s tears away, voice warm and sweet in a way that Deirdre would chase forever. She’d been sent home early, having been told her showing off of a dead bird was wholly inappropriate and furthermore, the sign of some deficiency. The humans don’t know the beauty of a skeleton. 

But there was some part of her, mature now, and leaned up against the door frame of her bone room, that thought her mother might have been the one who didn’t understand. There was a human, staring wide-eyed at her meager fossil collection (visions were harder to pull from remnants that old, and as such, she preferred more death in a fresher state). She looked at them with the very wonder she’d been taught a human could never have. The same way she looked at them. “There are gloves there, if you want to touch any of them.” Deirdre announced, pushing herself off the door frame and greeting Bex with a smile. “Go ahead, a chara. You can see them better when you hold them in your hands.” 

While Morgan had said Bex was free to any room in the house, she’d always been extra careful when going into Deirdre’s fossil room. Never touched anything, never stayed too long. Instead she would just stand near the cases and stare wide-eyed like a kid in a candy shop. She liked trying to figure out which skeleton was what, even though the articulated ones were pretty obvious. The fossils were the more fascinating part to her, but bones were just fossils that were too young, so, really, they were all the same. They all told a story and they all had history. She was trying to get back to a sense of normalcy after what had happened yesterday and over the past week, glancing at one of the sheet fossils when Deirdre’s voice filled the room and Bex jumped. She was used to watching her surroundings usually, making sure she knew who was around or when she was alone-- but being in this house made her feel relaxed enough to not feel the need to do that. It was becoming a problem. “Oh, I--” she started, stopped, “it’s okay! I wouldn’t wanna mess with your stuff.”

“No, please,” Deirdre gestured. She stepped into the room and grabbed a pair of gloves for herself, slipping them on before she extended a pristine white pair of fabric clothes for Bex’s own use. “I insist. I don’t collect these things so they can sit here unadmired. Granted, it’s mostly me that does the admiring…” Deirdre trailed off, glancing down at the gloves in her hand. She shook them, for emphasis. Morgan was always better at this; the talking and the socializing. And even for the fact that Bex had been with them for a while, Deirdre hadn’t done much for her. For that, she was guilty. But guilt didn’t serve the bone room. They did, after all, have one thing more in common than the same roof over their heads. “There’s amber in the drawers, I only have a few pieces, so I haven’t put them into a proper display and--Hold on--” Deirdre shifted away, pulling open one of her draws on the far wall, revealing tiny bones housed safely in velvet, and the amber. Deirdre pulled on out, it wasn’t a mosquito, but some bug-like creature she didn’t know the name of. “Like in the movie,” she said as she offered it out as well, “what do you think?” Deirdre turned up, gazing about the entirety of her immaculate collection. “Of the whole room; what do you think?”

Bex watched Deirdre curiously as she slid into the room and pulled out a pair of gloves. Tentatively, she reached out and took the pair offered to her, sliding them on carefully. Most of the things in special rooms in her own home were one-hundred percent off-limits to her, even now, as an adult. But especially so when she was a child. She remembered from her conversations with Deirdre that she had lived in a household very similar to Bex’s, in size and strictness. It felt a little like an unspoken thing between them. Deirdre was pulling open a drawer full of bits of amber, and Bex peered curiously inside, holding out her hands as she plucked a piece out. “Oh! Is that a myrmeleontoid?” She lit up instantly at the sight of the ancient beetle species, the first time she’d cracked a real smile in a long while. There were quite a few different bug species back in the ancient world, but only a few had been captured in amber and preserved well enough. They’d found plenty of bee and fly and ant species in amber, but beetles were often more rare. She looked up at Deirdre, then, still holding the amber as if it were the most delicate thing on earth. “It kinda makes me jealous,” she said, but she was still smiling, “I wish I had an entire room for fossils. Did these take long to collect?”

Deirdre’s brows knitted together in a way she hoped Bex couldn’t notice. The caution and the reservation, even the quiet wonder, was all familiar. Yet, in the empty spaces of her identity, at Bex’s age, she filled it with arrogance. Bex seemed to fill it with...anxiety. Then again, Deirdre wasn’t sure how she might’ve acted if there ever was anyone kind enough to take her in. “A what?” She laughed, “that’s a big word, you’re going to have to dumb it down for me. I’m an actuary, not a scientist.” Deirdre glanced down at the amber as Bex continued, pulling her bottom lip in with her teeth. Humans wouldn’t understand, she thought, and in this case, she considered that Bex wouldn’t even believe. But she’d found most of these bones, and simply ordered what was rare. “I was angry,” she started, staring out at her displays, numerous and carefully organized. “I could hardly bring any bones from Ireland with me; nothing big, anyway. And I’d have to start my whole collection all over again, in this miserable town, and I was angry. Then the day after I moved in, I took a walk and right there in the snow was bits of a moose.” She turned, and gestured to the spine fragments on display; a sentimentality for her first find here. “There are no moose in Ireland, and no point in being angry or jealous. Just start your own. Again, someplace new.” Deirdre laughed softly to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. “All of this took just about a year. And you can have your own bone room, Bex. The basement is used for nothing more than Christmas decoration storage, and I don’t think Morgan would object with making it yours.” 

“Um, sorry. It’s a type of ancient beetle,” Bex explained, “this looks like the larval stage, but I’ve only ever seen photos, so I can’t be sure, really.” She pinched the block between her finger and thumb and held it up to the light to examine it better. Bubbles of air had frozen in time around the critter’s head, and around it’s legs. Being trapped in sap sounded like a terrible fate. She wondered how long it was before the poor thing had suffocated. Her gaze turned back to Deirdre when she spoke again, finding her staring at her displays with a nostalgic look. Bex, if anything, was at least good at picking out micro-expressions on peoples’ faces. It was a self-preservation tactic. “There’s a ton of moose here. They have trail maps that can show you their migration habits. There’s probably a lot more skeletons along those paths.” She paused. “I’m sorry you had to leave your old collection behind. But this one is pretty great, you know.” Her eyes trailed over to Deirdre again and she made brief eye contact, before looking away, holding the amber back out to her. Her mind wandered so much easier these past few days, full of painkillers and visions of claws. She just wanted something normal. “I...can’t do that. Couldn’t ask you to do that for me. Besides, I don’t have any fossils or bones anyway. My parents don’t exactly approve of that hobby. Last time I tried to stash some in my closet my mom ransacked it and threw them all away.”

With a frown, Deirdre took the amber as it was given back. “Are your parents here, Bex?” Deirdre asked quietly, sincerely. She remembered her first move away from her family, and how every day she expected her mother to barge in, and turn up her nose at the dust that lived under her furniture. For all the times she did turn up unannounced, even in this home she had now, it was never as simple as the dust. “I don’t plan on having anyone in my house that I disagree with,” Deirdre’s eyes narrowed, voice turning sharp as she remembered Ariana. “I don’t like the idea of people like that intruding on what’s meant to be safe.” What’s meant to be hers. But Deirdre shook her head; this was about Bex. “I had novels. Romance, mostly. Growing up, I liked them. I hid them under my bed. My cousin knew about them, and one day, when she was angry at me, she told my mother. To this day, I can still smell them burning; how my mother looked standing by the fire; how I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from crying.” Deirdre slowly returned the amber to its place, looking back at Bex. “They won’t hurt you here. They won’t know. I won’t let them. You are safe here, you understand that, don’t you?”

The question took Bex by surprise, but then again, hadn’t she been asking herself that every day? Are they here? Will they come? Will they take her back? She watched Deirdre take the amber and squeezed her hands shut around the air where it used to be. The answer was no, but also yes. Because no, they were not here physically. They could not grab Bex or yell at her or stand between her and the doorway. But yes, because she saw them everywhere. In every raised hand, in every loud voice, in every corner of the room when she was just a bit too tired or too lost in thought-- and then she’d blink, and they’d be gone, but they were there. They were always there. They were more frightening than a bloodthirsty werewolf sometimes. “No,” she answered back just as quietly. She wrapped her arms around herself as she listened. Her chest ached. How many of Bex’s fantasy books or history compendiums or fuck, even comic books, had her mom stolen away from her? Torn to shreds and dumped in the garbage. Her mother didn’t care to burn the evidence. She hadn’t minded when Bex would pull whatever remains she could find from the trash to try and piece them back together, sobbing on the study floor. It was a lesson, she told her. One she could learn fast. And she had. Just like the books, the fossils were destroyed. The bones were snapped, sometimes like her own. She looked at Deirdre, not realizing the tears in her eyes until she was blinking them away. She turned her face. “You don’t know that,” she said back, “how can you guarantee that?” 

Deirdre still felt wonder every time Morgan perked up to hear of something she liked, of her life or what she was doing; excitement for the person she was with such love that she had never been given. The first time it happened, Deirdre thought it must have been a lie. How insidious it was that even when happy, loved, her mother could reach through time and space and sow doubt. How terrible it must have been for Bex. “Your parents are always with you…” she breathed, closing her eyes. “Every doubt. Every hesitation or negative thought. Your fear, your anger, your life...it’s all theirs. They are here. It’s like they live inside your body, always watching, always waiting. You hear their words in your own voice. I know how it is Bex.” She opened her eyes, looking at Bex—hugging herself, crying. “But physically, they are not here. And the only harm they can do is the kind they taught you to do to yourself.” Deirdre moved closer, slowly and gently resting her hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “I know this because no one who stays in this house is anything like them. And I want you to be safe. And we are very similar, Bex.” The humans would never understand. Except Siobhan had never thought her torment was the kind with a name, a human name. And there were many that understood. “I also break glass, but I look a lot cooler when I do it,” she smiled, “and I can guarantee it: I promise you that I won’t let your parents enter this house. And you know my thing about promises, I’d have to keep it. Although, maybe don’t invite your parents over unless you want me to throw your mother through a window.” Deirdre tapped Bex’s head. “What are the parents inside your thoughts saying about that?” 

Bex felt her body tightening with each word spoken, truer than the last. A string of sentences that somehow described her life so perfectly and yet so horribly. She trembled and bit down on her lip. She didn’t want to admit it, she’d never admitted it to Morgan, but she hated them. She hated them. They stole her life away and even now that she was out, gone, they were still everywhere. They were inside of her, stealing bits of her. They filled her up and swallowed her whole and her darkest fear, her biggest fear was that, one day, she’d be just like them. She would become her mother, full of anger and resent and pain. She tried to force away the tears but they always stuck around. She did not flinch when Deirdre came close, because her mind inherently understood that someone who had lived it, too, would never dare raise a hand. She hated that Deirdre was right. She looked up when Deirdre said she shattered glass, too, when she said she’d promise to keep her safe. Bex didn’t have words for that, she couldn’t even say no. She scrunched her nose as Deirdre tapped her head, looking up at her-- the only other woman in her life aside from her mom who was taller than her-- and furrowed a brow. “I don’t think I’d mind altogether if you did…” she mumbled, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders. “Did--” she started, stopped. Chewed on the thought. “Did your mom ever tell you...she loved you?”

Deirdre laughed; loud and barking the way she did when she was both surprised and amused. She was quick to stop the sound and wave a hand in the air, trying to tell Bex that she wasn’t laughing at her, but more like laughing with her...even though Bex wasn’t laughing. “Honestly I thought you might like to have the honours of throwing your mother through a window, but I could do it.” Her own mother was far stronger than her, shorter in stature and more lean, but far more skilled. For all Deirdre had been called a prodigy, her mother had the advantage of about sixty more years of training. But the worst Bex’s mother could be was some witch, right? As Deirdre considered the logistics of truly throwing Bex’s mother through a window, she nearly missed the other question. When she heard it, she felt like laughing again. And then she thought about it. Siobhan was a complicated woman; as a child, before her scream, she could remember a warmth. When training, her mother’s patience wore thin. Approval was rare. She had wanted a daughter, had rejoiced in her young activation, but didn’t like the reality of it. She was quick to tell Deirdre that she never cried, she never complained, and she’d had it so much worse.

“Never the word love,” Deirdre said after a moment, “Proud; delighted to have a daughter like me. It was always about the image. She never used the word love--she didn’t believe in it. But she liked to be kind when it suited her; whenever I agreed to her way, she’d call me smart. If I did what she told me, she said she was proud. If she felt like I was going to disobey her, she reminded me that she was my mother. If I seemed displeased, she would dangle everything she did for me over my head. It was these moments that tricked me into thinking she must have been a good mother. If she had been cruel all the time, it wouldn’t have taken me so long to know. I wouldn’t have listened to her. Those drops of approval...I lived for them. I knew they existed, so I chased them. And the more I chased, the more rare they became. The more rare they were, the harder I ran after them. Everything I did was about her. Always about her. So, no, she never said she loved me. She didn’t have to, it wouldn’t have changed anything.” Deirdre rolled up her sleeve, pointing to the iron burn on her forearm. It had been for training, but it was the only scar she had for her mother’s torment; for all of her volatile emotions. “A woman who will do something like this, isn’t one that loves you. As much as I wished she did. As much as I wished my whole family did. It was never about love to them. And as angry as I am with my mother, I know how my grandmother was to her. And I know how my great-grandmother was to her.” She knew because they were all still alive, of course. “Did yours?” She asked, rolling down her sleeve, “ever say she loved you?” 

Never the word love. That shouldn’t have reassured Bex as much as it did. But it made her feel just the smallest sense of relief. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Her mother had probably never said it to her. At least not anytime Bex could remember. She remembered a lot of “that’s my girl”s and “you were so well behaved”s and “good girl”s, but never that. Barely even...proud. The closest she got was when her mom would tuck her in to bed and Bex would say the words in her small voice, and her mother, so sweet, and so soft, now that her anger was gone, would sooth down her hair, and brush thumbs over her bruises and say, “Of course, darling.” Listening to Deirdre felt like listening to someone describe herself, her childhood. It made her skin crawl, it made her shiver. She squeezed around herself, burying the pain that was flashing in her eyes. Memories of bruises written into her muscles. Deirdre was rolling up her sleeve and Bex looked down at the mark on her arm. A burn. Her parents were always so careful to never leave anything behind on Bex’s body, she almost wished she had something to show for it. All she had were the memories of broken bones and purple bruises, and blood stained clothes. It wasn’t fair, to either of them. Bex reached out, as if to touch the burn, as if touching it would make it more real, more true. As if touching it would make Bex feel what Deirdre had. But she didn’t need to touch it for any of those things to happen. They just did. She just knew.

Bex pulled her hand back and scratched along the tops of her thighs. Her only marks of her pain were there, on the insides of her thighs. And she’d done them to herself. They were her only ounce of control, for the longest time. Razor blades along skin. She swallowed. “No,” she answered quietly. “I don’t think she knows how to.” Chewed on her lip, rolling it between her teeth. “I wish she would. Sometimes I still think she can.” She looked up at Deirdre, tried to catch her eyes, but found herself unable to hold any sort of gaze. Her eyes fell in shame. “I’ve tried my whole life to get either of my parents to just tell me something, anything close to love. Or even just being proud. Or that they care about me. I keep thinking that if I just do better or try harder it’ll change. It’ll get better. They’ll look at me and tell me they’re proud, that they love me, that I did good. But they just-- it’s only when I do bad. They--” her breath hitched when she inhaled. Why was she already crying? “What did I do wrong?” she suddenly blurted. “Why don’t they love me? Why do they hurt me? I told them I’d be good. I told them I didn't mean to, but they--” She put her head in her hands. “Why can’t I do anything right?”

It was a reflex. Something Deirdre couldn’t explain even if she wanted to. But without thinking, without asking and without meaning to, her arms wrapped around Bex. She pulled the girl in close and gently a hand moved to her hair, stroking the way she thought a mother might–if either of them had ever had one. “You didn’t do anything wrong…” Deirdre said softly. She didn’t believe it much for herself, every silent minute was met with doubt. Perhaps her family had been right. When would Fate come and take away all her nice things like it had so many times before? When did she have to go back? But in that moment, holding Bex in her arms, her doubt fluttered away. And she knew, even if it only would be for these seconds spent with Bex, that neither of them had done anything wrong. “It’s not you. It’s not you, Bex. It’s not your fault. You can bend and break and twist yourself all you want, but they will never see it. Love like that is conditional, fit to be swept away if ever it comes. People like that don’t care, not truly, not like parents ought to. And that’s not your fault. You are a bright and brilliant and kind young woman, and you have grown that way in spite of them, and they will never take that away. Do you understand, Bex? You will always be worthy of love, no matter what. And one day, it’ll be easier to let go of them. One day their voice in your head will get so quiet you won’t hear them unless you strain–and you wouldn’t trouble yourself like that anyway. Because you won’t want to. Don’t wait for them to love you.” Deirdre pulled back, looking Bex in the eyes. “You have people here who do. You don’t need to wait for them. You are good, Bex. You are good to me. Do you understand?”

Of all the things Bex expected from Deirdre, this was not it. Perhaps it was her own aversion to touch that made her not even consider the idea that, maybe, there was a point after all the healing that hugging was not an act of control, but an act of empathy. Bex had hugged Morgan a few times, and while her grasp felt comforting and safe, it was not for lack of trust that had been built. The hurt that Bex carried with her never truly left, but, sometimes, it felt less so when she was in Morgan’s arms. Here, now, as Deirdre wrapped her up and combed fingers through her hair, she was stunned for a moment. Her body didn’t move at first, wondering, if maybe, it was a trick somehow. Like with her mother. But there was no way her mother could ever show any sense of compassion, any sense of empathy the way Deirdre was showing. You are good, Bex. And then, with perhaps just as much fervor and just as much surprise, Bex wrapped her arms back around Deirdre and let herself be taken in. Even if she couldn’t say it yet, her words meant something to her. You are good to me. Hands tightened up in knots, bunching the cloth of Deirdre’s shirt between her fingers. It’s not you, Bex. It’s not your fault. She hiccuped with her strain, words drowned by sobs. Don’t wait for them to love you. She sank into Deirdre’s arms and wondered if she understood without Bex having to say anything. No, she knew she did. A child did not cling so desperately to approval if she did not understand the cruelty of its rejection. Finally, despite her grief still worming its way through her chest, she answered, “I understand,” against Deirdre’s shoulder. 

"Good," Deirdre asserted. She squeezed Bex a little tighter, easing slowly into letting her go. She gestured to the door, figuring they'd both had enough emotional release for the day. She wasn't going to make Bex dig up more than she wanted to. "Will you help me bake some salmon biscuits? For the cats and Min--" Deirdre coughed. "Me. I love fish...cookies. Yum." Although, as she thought about it, she wondered if Mina would appreciate being offered cat treats. It wasn't her fault that Mina and the cats shared a fish-centric diet. "Oh, and Bex?" She paused, smiling at the young witch, "have you ever read Wild Geese? I think you'd like it." 

[writethehousedown]

Conflicted Looks Good On You (Crystal x Gigi) - Mina

A/N: Hi everyone, i’m so excited to finally get to participate in one of these challenges! I worked really really hard on this so I hope you enjoy it, this is possibly my best fic yet? :> Please go say hello on my blog @goodemornting !!

Crystal works as a lifeguard for the scariest ride in the entire waterpark, The Vortex of Death. Gigi hates scary things, but might make an exception for the pretty woman who keeps on saving her.

The first time Gigi met Crystal, she’d been dying. No, literally dying.

There was water in her lungs, and it felt like she was drowning from the inside. Her feet were somehow stuck to something that felt like clammy plastic, almost suffocating against her skin. The sky was blurry above in bruised shades of purple, great swathes of orange cutting across it, and it looked like the skies in those terrible indie horror movies Jackie sometimes made her watch. There was a procession of skulls above her as well, faces grotesque and grimy with tongues protruding from bony cheeks and dripping drool into a pool of flames, and Gigi couldn’t help but wonder whether the devil had finally gotten the best of her and sent her down to hell.

Her first coherent thought was thighs. Good thighs. Nice, strong, tan thighs with a soft layer of muscle. The kind of thighs she’d like to see walking around the house on lazy Sunday mornings, blue shorts attached to them and a tacky, overlong red T-shirt hanging down just below the waistline. Water-drops clung to wet skin and ran down in interesting little rivulets, creating intricate lines that could be traced most efficiently with a tongue.

Pair of Thighs had to have a face up there somewhere, Gigi hoped, but then again this was hell so was she really sure?

She chocked at the feel of hands intertwining with her own, grip tight and unflinching as they struggled to lift her up. The gaping skulls and fire became spirals of blood-red spots, scrunching her eyes up and letting herself be lifted from the water. She tried to breathe in and felt her lungs burn, throat tight and painful.

A hand thumped her back hard.

Gigi sputtered, dribbling water. She almost managed to cough out a sentence but then someone’s mouth was on her own, knocking any coherency straight back out of her with the feel of soft lips pulling harshly to get a better grip. She startled, shoulders tensing, but her arms didn’t have the strength to pull away. She tasted sugary peaches, like the kind that filled the cakes and pastries in cafe windows, warm fingers on the back of her head offering the lightest pressure, before they pulled away with a quiet gasp. Gigi scrambled back, and in her daze, managed to kick someone squarely in the chest.

“Holy shit! Holy shit, Gigi!”

If this really was hell and peachy-tan-thighs-girl was a demon, then Gigi was screwed because somehow she’d also brought her best friend into this equation.

“J-Jackie?”

The Persian woman crowded her field of vision, shoulders slumping in relief at the brunette’s words. She looked pale, a wet towel slung over her neck and brown eyes comically huge behind her glasses. Her hands were pressed against her face, squishing up her cheeks in nervous panic, and Gigi thought she looked like a twelve-year-old.

“Oh my god, what were you thinking? Why did you do that?” She screeched, hands clutching her heart as though it might beat right out of her chest “Did you get water in your head or something? I thought you were going to die!” Gigi looked back at her hazily, almost apologetic for how nervous the older woman looked.

“D-do what?” The younger gasped out, shaking slightly from the cold water hugging her skin.

“Jump out of the floatie!” Jackie hissed, turning to speak to someone out of Gigi’s vision. “I’m sorry, are you all good?”

“I’m fine.” A honey voice laughed gently, breathing heavily, “Is your friend alright now?”

“She seems to be alive,” Jackie trilled, high and panicky. “And talking. Is that bad?”

“Oh, no, that’s great. Maybe you can head to the cafe, get some sugar in her.”

Gigi floundered to sit up and get a full look of peach girls face, rubbing at her eyes that were stinging from the pool water. The lifeguard was still clutching her chest in pain, but her grin was square and wide and her striking orange hair was pulled back from her face in a messy ponytail. A jarringly purple headband covered half her forehead, keeping her curly hair off her face, and Gigi saw manicured brows, soft lips and golden, tan skin. The top lip was thicker than the bottom one, which was interesting, and the brunette told herself she was only staring so hard because those lips had been on hers just a few moments ago.

Because Gigi had - apparently, in panic - jumped off her floatie in the midst of the scariest ride in the fucking park, the Vortex of Death, and proceeded to injure the poor lifeguard.

She felt her heart stop again. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, “I’m really sorry, oh my God. I kicked you. After you saved me. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I like saving lives.” The woman grinned like it was nothing, waving a hand nonchalantly which the brunette noticed had fingernails painted in rainbow colours. “Not often that I have to climb up half the ride to do it, but it shook up my day a little.”

Jackie tried ineffectively to dry Gigi’s hair with her wet towel, scoffing under her breath. “Don’t you usually save people lower down?”

“Yep. Most pass through the shark dive before they panic and flail and I have to go pull them out.”

Gigi frowned. “Where was I?”

“Still in the flame thrower part.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. At least you didn’t drown.”

Jackie was nodding, though she looked like she was trying to convince herself that everything was okay more than Gigi. She still looked horrified, patting the brunette’s head with that towel and biting down on her lip so hard that Gigi was afraid she’d tear right through.

“It’s okay, honey,” The older whispered, “You can get stuck in the shark dive next time.”

The lifeguard girl giggled loudly at that, shoulders shaking gently. Her voice was a pretty, smooth thing, sling-shotting itself straight into Gigi’s veins, but her laughter itself was heady and adorable. Her one piece swimsuit showcased an embroidered burning skull with the words Vortex of Death beneath it, hardly fitting of the bright brown eyes and gummy smile the taller woman possessed. Her name-tag badge said Crystal, which was a weird one, but who was Gigi to judge? Her blue shorts looked tight and stuck to her skin way too snug, hugging her toned muscles. It wasn’t fair, because even in her tacky lifeguard clothes, Crystal looked like she belonged in a summer fashion catalog. She didn’t look real, much more suited to a beach in the Mexican coast or a hip village in the south of France or something, working on her perfect tan skin.

She certainly did not look like she should be giving CPR in a shitty waterpark in a tiny corner of southern California, and Gigi was immediately mesmerized - cartoon heart eyes, dry mouth, shaky hands - the whole package.

“Do you feel like you can stand up?” Peach girl - Crystal - asked with a tilt of her head. She looked concerned, warm eyes fixed on Gigi’s own and large palm held out for her to hold.

“Y-yeah.”

“Awesome,” She grinned. “Come on, then. Take my hand.”

The younger woman grabbed at it, ignoring the way her heart jumped at the feel of her long fingers closing around her palm, strong and promising. Crystal yanked her up and off of the concrete, catching her neatly after she yet again stumbled into her arms. Gigi gaped up at her, halfway dead again from mortification, but the tan woman’s smile was warm and kind, carving deep laugh lines into her cheeks.

She swallowed hard and felt her insides flutter.

That had been the beginning of her doom.

***

“Nicky says she’s imprinting on you,” Jan grinned when they met at the entrance to the park, under the palm trees surrounding the ticket booth. “Like baby ducks imprint on mom ducks. Only your mom is a hot lifeguard who’s mandated to wear those teeny shorts.”

“She’s not my mom,” Gigi hissed, but Jan didn’t paying attention. “What’s up with this dumb park and teeny shorts, anyway?”

The blondes head turned as a woman passed them by, gaze lingering on the same uniform swimsuit. Gigi had been at this park enough times now to recognize the broad shoulders and dark hair of Jaida, the girl who handled the Lazy River. She spotted her sometimes with Crystal, fooling around when the crowds were less and they had nothing to do. She low-key resented the woman because it was absolutely impossible not to, Jaida was gorgeous, like, beach model, I-do-runway-shows-for-fun gorgeous, and they were super touchy and flirty and annoying all of the time. Once, at Gigi’s insistence, Nicky had asked Jaida if the two were dating. The dark haired woman’s response had been loud, deep laughter, and a pat to the top of Nicky’s head.

“Her name’s Jaida, if you want to know,” She told Jan with a frown, hoping she didn’t sound too aggressive, “She’s really pretty, huh.”

“Jackie told me her name,” Jan replied thoughtfully, craning her neck to keep gazing at the older lifeguard. “Your Crystal is pretty too. Doesn’t she sing as well?”

“She only does one direction songs,” Gigi muttered, shouldering past the older girl to pay for tickets, “She’s a real pro at those, though.”

A loud snicker from behind her told her that Nicky had finally joined them. “She’s a weird one, huh?“

“She’s not weird,” Gigi pouted, crossing her arms, “She’s just…she’s different.”

The French woman snorted, “You act the sun shines out of her ass.”

The brunette pinched the bridge of her nose exasperatedly, “Why the fuck did I bring you guys?”

“Because you know it’s too lame to come to water parks alone.”

Nicky added, “Do you really think we have nothing better to do with our weekends?”

Gigi raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t.”

The French woman frowned, “Well, yeah, fair. But it wasn’t me who decided to crush on the lifeguard that strictly works at the scariest ride in the entire water-park, while having the biggest fear of water.”

“Will you ever let that go?”

“I don’t know. You might have to actually get the girl before that.”

They passed through the entrance to the park, Gigi’s feet acting on their own as they dragged her to her inevitable destination, the stone pathway leading up to the scariest ride in the entire park. Jan laughed once they arrived, nudging the brunette’s shoulder, “Hey, how many times do you think we’ve come here in the last six weeks?”

Gigi didn’t reply, she didn’t know if she was ready to acknowledge the number yet. She knew exactly how many times.

Twenty.

Twenty fucking times she’d come to the water park in the last month, and twenty fucking times she’d climbed into the Vortex with her heart beating out of her chest. It never stopped being terrifying, she never stopped feeling like she’d puke, but somehow, she’d conditioned herself at a Pavlovian level to look forward to it.

To look forward to Crystal meeting her at the bottom of the ride, beaming smile preemptively in place and warm hands waiting to yank her out of the water.

Crystal. Gigi tried out the name nearly every day since the lifeguard had told it to her. Tonguing it around in her mouth, getting a feel for it. Crystal.

Crystal was always there, waiting at the end of the ride like a little guardian angel dressed in her teeny shorts and sometimes that purple headband, reaching out to help the hapless souls flailing in her pool after being spit out by the hell-ride.

What’s up, Gigi would ask, cool as you please. And Crystal would reply excitedly, did you have fun? She would nod, very cool, as if she hadn’t just spent the last one minute screaming her head off like a banshee. As if she hadn’t felt her soul fly up all the way to her gullet, hanging on by a bare thread for the entire duration of the ride. And how was your week, busy yeah? She’d ask, swallowing down her nausea. And Crystal would say something cute, something funny, like oh, I had to dig two people out of the slide today. No big deal.

The lifeguard always smelt like something citrus and tropical, only slightly layered with the chemicals in the water. She always had those peach-shine lips, and Gigi wondered how much lipbalm the lifeguard must go through because they’re more likely to become chapped with all the chlorine she was in contact with. Gigi would stay for a few minutes, chatting with her, asking her things. Do you like pizza? I like pizza, and Do you like sewing? I like sewing. She learned that Crystal likes dancing, and eating Italian food. That Crystal’s accent is colored with the heavy Spanish she picked up from growing up in Mexico. That when she’s not saving lives in the dumb theme park she moonlights as a bartender in some tiny club.

Crystal had even come to expect her, always asking where she’d been if the brunette hadn’t shot down the Vortex for a few days. It lit something fierce in Gigi’s heart when she did that, knowing that the older girl thought of her when she wasn’t around. She would absolutely keep coming back, waste her money on tickets and climb into a ride that scares the soul out of her, just to hear the older woman say what have you been up to? I missed you this week.

It’s a potent sort of crush. Puppy-love strong, blood on fire, wanting-to-serenade-with-roses-and-tulips sort of thing.

Gigi is so gone.

“You okay to do the Vortex alone today?” Jan asked, bouncing giddily on her toes, “Nicky and I are thinking of doing the Lazy River.”

Of course they were. They were going to spend most of that Lazy River ride falling out of their floaties and scraping their heads along the side and bumping into others - general incompetent nonsense that’d get Jaida to follow them exasperatedly along the edges of the entire course. “Sure, try not to get yourselves killed.” What she wanted to say is please don’t go, I’m so terrified, but the idea of getting some precious alone time with a certain tan skinned lifeguard has her holding her head up confidently, walking through the fiery entrance alone like she wasn’t about to faint.

The line dwindled. The Vortex’s head was shaped like a screaming man, tiny red and black striped boats sitting in lines ready to escort people through the horror show. No matter how many times Gigi stood there, waiting to be launched down the steep throat and into the spinning, spiraling slide, she still got awful butterflies at the thought of it. There was only one more person in front of her, and then she would have to go, and the worst part was waiting for the safety-guard to rise and for the beep to sound and for her to be launched down that deep, dark tunnel like a rocket into space.

The person in front of her was thrown down the slide, a scream rising from their throat like cold murder. Gigi shuffled forward, grimacing at the ride’s technical controller who offered her a sympathetic smile. Why do people make these things? Who wants to be scared out of their wits while being sling-shotted into a dark, amniotic chamber full of echoing sounds and slick, red walls? What is this fascination with knowing what it’s like to possibly be swallowed by a giant whale or something? Why are people so intensely entertained by—

“Fuck!” Her hands scrambled for purchase as she was propelled forward, the ride making a terrible screeching sound as the plastic slid against the slide. The skulls leered at her from every turn, the disgusting laughing sound that seemed to have been recorded in the pits of purgatory itself cheering her on from the speakers hidden in the walls. Gigi shrieked, the sound echoing off the walls and bouncing through the chamber along side her.

She could almost see Crystal now, sitting on her lifeguard chair, peering down the tunnel to see whether Gigi would get stuck inside the exit. “A lot of people get stuck on that part, y’know,” The older woman had told her once. “It’s a structural defect. But most people find it hilarious and it adds to the experience, so they don’t fix it.”

Gigi hadn’t had the heart to tell her that most people probably also appreciate the sight of Crystal climbing up to get them, pole in hand, to poke them out of position. Crystal - narrow yet broad, big yet small, a mess of contradictions and odd features and little flaws brought together into the perfect person. Gigi could hardly believe she wasn’t a fever dream.

The redhead’s sunglasses were bright green and heart-shaped that day, reflecting the afternoon sun and doing wonders for her tan skin. Gigi barely had time to glimpse before she fell right out of her floatie and straight into the pool, the splash sound reverberating through the water. She went under and spluttered for a while, bright blue in her eyes and burning water in her throat, before familiar arms dragged her out and greeted her with a tight embrace.

“You never stick the landing right,” Crystal hummed, looking down at her through a teasing smile, “Hi, Gigi.”

“Hey,” The younger woman replied breathlessly, holding up a weak thumbs up. “What’s shaking?”

“You tell me,” The taller woman raised an eyebrow teasingly, “Pretty nasty fall you had today, looked like you were about to cry.”

Gigi pushed the hair out of her eyes, trying to appear dignified, “Are you making fun of me?” Crystal’s eyes widened, shaking her head frantically.

“No!” The taller woman assured, hands flurrying to deny the statement, “You looked graceful, almost! Very pretty. Do people ever tell you how pretty you are? Because I think so.” She spoke very quickly, that heavy accent dripping honey-like into every word, and Gigi could hardly catch what she was saying. That was endearing too. Crystal’s lashes fluttered excitedly. “You’re really something, Geege.”

The brunette peered at her, trying to make out if all of this had a layer of hilarity to it. The redhead didn’t look like she was joking, just gazed at Gigi happily - so earnest and serious, eyes round and lamp-like, a one thousand kilowatt smile. Skin all supple and tan and pretty, hair drawn back from her face, standing there knee-deep in chlorinated water fangirling over her. Her big, bubbly lifeguard crush. Gigi sort of just really wanted to kiss her head.

She cleared her throat. “I thought it must look kinda weird, falling off every time I get on this ride,”

“No, it isn’t! You look cool, dramatic. You look like an actress.”

“Really?”

“Really. Your clothes look cool, too. I love your swimsuit!.” Crystal beamed, gesturing down at Gigi’s white lace bikini. Her hands were still resting on Gigi’s shoulders, big palms squeezing gentle, so soft that a butterfly couldn’t get away with it. “You should be confident.”

“I am.”

“That’s good, then.” The redhead licked her lips - a quick pink swipe, leaving her mouth glossier still. “Wow, I can’t believe I know someone so gorgeous. It’s

awesome.”

Crystal smile was pearly and bright, starry-eyed, mouth that cool blush tone that reminded the brunette of fresh strawberries and fluffy blankets. “That’s pretty lame,” Gigi laughed, cheeks getting warmer by the second.

“Five people have gotten stuck since morning,” The lifeguard grinned, “One was this girl, she screamed the funniest things ‘till I got her out of there, you should have heard it. Sometimes I think people hate this ride. They do it once because it’s so famous and everyone wants to look cool, but they secretly can’t stand it.”

Gigi glanced back at the Vortex and shivered, her heart still pounding from the twists and jumps of the tunnels packed inside. All of what the taller had just said applied to her, too, but she’d left out the one variable that kept bringing her back.

She wondered if Crystal knew what she looked like.

“You come back, though,” The redhead observed, peering around Gigi in preparation for the next person screaming their way through the stone chamber. “You seem to love this ride. You must be a really brave person.”

Gigi chuckled weakly, her stomach flipping. “I like to live dangerously,” She lied through her teeth.

“Yeah?” Crystal lit up. “So do I! I’ve been wanting to go to the summer festival so bad. There’s this crazy roller-coaster this year, did you see it?”

She’d seen it. She’d seen it many, many times, all over her Instagram feed no matter how many times she told the app she was Not. Interested. It was a monstrous thing, must be the size of two baseball pitches, at least three times what the vortex was. Just looking at it had been enough to make her want to melt into the floor, so of course Crystal was absolutely enamored by it.

“They brought it in from Australia or something. I keep asking Jaida to come with me, but she says she’s scared, which is weird because normally she’s good with this stuff-“

Sometime in between Crystal opening her mouth and closing it, Gigi had begun to nod violently. She’s not sure when it started, but her mouth twisted into a warming smile. It felt like she was no longer in control of her own voice as she hummed, “I can go with you, if you want.”

The redhead looked at her, wide-eyed, a little daze of possibility sparking in her gaze. “Really?” She asked, and then frowned skeptically. “I mean you don’t really know me, and I wouldn’t want to pressure you..”

“I’d love to go, promise,” Gigi beamed, earnest. “I - uh - I love roller-coasters. Who doesn’t?”

“Right.” Crystal brightened, cheeks puffing up from her wide smile. Excitement made her look soft, even softer, actually, lit her up from the inside like a little doll that smiles when you push at its tummy. Gigi heard a swoosh of blood rushing in her ears. “What reason is there to be scared? You go on the thing, you have the time of your life, you feel alive. You know?”

The brunette could think of at least five hundred reasons to be scared. “Alive.” She mumbled, clenching her jaw, “Alive. Yep.”

The lifeguard giggled happily. “When do you want to go?”

There was a little kick in Gigi’s gut, a last ditch attempt to get her out of something she knew she shouldn’t be doing. “W-whenever. I’m free…Monday night?” Too bad, she had done it anyway.

Crystal near vibrated in excitement, bouncing on the heels of her toes. “Okay! Okay. Monday night. I’ll meet you there.” Her eyes twinkled, round pupils gazing into Gigi’s more piercing ones, and the younger woman felt as though she was going to faint yet again.

The splash of someone else landing in the pool startled them both, a quiet scream following it from underwater. The redhead shot her an apologetic look, - gotta go now - and padded her way over to the flailing person, warm-voiced and gentle and smiling as she helped them up.

The brunette climbed out of the pool, looking back once, and then started to move towards a different ride before she made another decision she’d regret.

“Geege!” Crystal called, waving dramatically back at her, “Monday, don’t forget. It’s a date!”

Gigi nearly stumbled into a bush.

***

In all matters not involving math, scary rides, and one particular tan-skin lifeguard, Georgina Goode was very competent.

She made and designed clothing, with some help from Nicky. She liked to cook, and she liked living alone, and she liked women. She liked some fun with her sense of organization, too, so on most weekends that she didn’t have to work, she ended up in a club with Jan.

“Cute girl at eight o’clock,” The blonde slurred, happily pulling Gigi this way and that in vaguely the rhythm of whatever song was being played, “She’s been looking at you all night.”

She turned to look, but it was like her mind’s eye had shrunk to develop an omnipotent focus only on Crystal. Her gaze found the new girl and slipped away quickly, disinterested. She turned back to Jan with a shrug. “Not my type.”

“Oh, you have a type now?” The older woman’s smile was knowing, “The type that makes you go on scary rides? Loud, smiley, tan?”

Gigi shook her head, groaning, “I’m going with her to the autumn festival tomorrow.”

Jan’s eyes went wide, stopping in her tracks and mouth gaping wide, “Really? You finally asked her out? Lifeguard Crystal?!”

The music changed, some pop anthem, and Jan lit up and tugged on Gigi’s arm to pull her further into the dance floor. The brunette grinned and shimmied closer. She liked dancing with Jan, because Jan was the rare breed of person who’d recite all the properties of antibiotics or whatever she was studying at nursing school while performing a slut-drop. Jan never made things weird. Even then, she was probably contemplating Gigi’s potential future with “Lifeguard Crystal” as she swayed her hips enthusiastically to the rap music.

“Well, she’s not bad looking, I guess.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Fine, fine. She’s fucking hot. Like. Ridiculously hot.”

“That’s more like it.”

Jan’s brows creased, offering a sympathetic smile. “But you don’t know her very well, babe.”

“I know her better than that girl over there you were suggesting I take home.”

“Fair point,” The blonde frowned, reaching around Gigi to grab her drink from the table. “But what if she’s…Oh, fuck it. Enjoy your date with Crystal. She of the life-giving mouth and tiny blue shorts. Just be safe, okay?”

“Yeah, well,” Gigi hesitated, dry-mouthed, ignoring the patronizing tilt of the older woman’s head. “I don’t think this date is ending that way.”

The blonde narrowed her eyes, “Why? What are you two doing?” She asked skeptically, downing a sip of her vibrantly coloured cocktail.

She took a deep breath, “Going on the roller coaster at the summer festival.”

Jan spat out her drink, looking back at the younger woman with eyes the size of saucers. “What?” She spluttered, loud enough that club goers around her startled and looked in their direction. “Have you seen that thing? It’s monstrous. It’s abominable. It’s an absolute atrocity, Gigi.”

“We want to feel alive.”

“You sound really dead right now.”

“I know.” She sighed, hiding her face behind her palms, “She just, Crystal, she’s… special, y’know? I want to impress her so bad, it’s insane,”

“Of course you do.” Jan put her small hand to Gigi’s jaw, furrowing her brows. The younger woman leaned into it, taking a deep breath. “God, it’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Maybe I just need to see her out of those shorts for once. Break the spell.”

The blonde shook her head. “It’s bad,” she whispered, nodding to herself and patting Gigi’s cheek gently. “So bad.”

“Janet,” the brunette whispered hoarsely, “How much do I need to pay for you to come to the summer festival and drag my body away if I die on this thing?”

***

On Sunday evening when Crystal messaged her to ask are we still on? with a flurry of heart emojis and a mermaid, the brunette didn’t have the slightest idea of how to respond.

She scowled at her phone for a minute. Yes? She typed, and then deleted the question mark. She wasn’t a stumbling middle school girl with a painful crush on a senior way out of her league. She was smart. She was confident.

She could do this.

Yes, she sent, and then couldn’t bare to look at the phone for a while. Crystal’s reply wasn’t much to go on when she finally gained the courage to peek.

“Cool,” The brunette read aloud, turning the word about in her mouth to gauge its true meaning. “Cool.” She pouted at the lack of any smiley faces.

She let it go. Ran late anyway because she kept looking at pictures of that roller coaster and having mini heart-attacks. There was a chain lift and a steep drop and many, many points where both the contents of Gigi’s stomach and her heart were likely to leap out of her mouth.

Still. She could do this. She wasn’t a baby, she rode the Vortex of Death every week - she could do this.

Crystal’s hair was ruffled in the wind when Gigi finally caught up to her, already smelling of daffodils and ice-cream. She was finally out of those fucking shorts too, dressed all pretty in a yellow sundress and patterned necktie, still with that soft-shine balm glossing up her lips in a more shimmery colour this time. She wore round glasses, pushed up to the top of her head and intertwining with her red curls, with bunches of colourful bracelets decorating both hands. She looked straight out of a painting, maybe a character escaped from the most beautiful art museum and on the run through the summer festival.

“You look - you look nice,” Gigi stuttered, all verklempt, and Crystal beamed back with her eyes scrunched up.

“You too! There’s a penguin pin on your shirt.”

Gigi looked down, almost gasping at the sight of said penguin pin in the middle of her pale blue blouse. She hadn’t meant to wear that one, but by some psychobabble-subconscious-wizardry, she’d still managed it. It’s even a dancing penguin.

“Oh,” she chuckled, feeling slightly sick.

“It’s cute.” Crystal poked a finger at it, all easy, like all her dates turned up wearing penguins on their shirts. Gigi jolted back in surprise, shocked at the sudden contact. The redhead laughed and stuck her hands in her pockets, “Sorry. Should we go find the line for the roller-coaster?”

The younger woman squirmed a little, grimacing, “Y-Yeah,” she replied, finally, “I guess so.”

The festival was pretty and thrumming, all glimmering blue lights and palm trees, smell of tropical fruit and salt water, luau music. There was smoke and surfboards and the luster of gaudy-pretty streamers, fluttering silver and aqua and yellow. Spots of glitter constellated on Crystal’s cheeks like freckles whenever she looked up.

“I love the summer festival,” The redhead muttered in awe. “Where I grew up the carnivals were smaller than this, but it was my favorite time of the year.”

Gigi only spent the first minute feeling clammy-palmed and sick with worry, because Crystal turned out to be a ridiculously excitable person. Five steps into the festival and her hand came tight down on her wrist, dragging her off because puppies, oh my god, they have puppies, and Gigi went along because what the fuck, she liked puppies too.

The air was caramel-thick and the close press of bodies made the space hot. Crystal watched the puppies jump through loops with wet lashes and a beatific expression, fingers itching forward to grab, to hold. Gigi cooed at a fluffy poodle with curly gray fur and liquid eyes. The older woman pet the top of its head, looking overwhelmed. “I miss my dog,” she whispered quiet, and Gigi felt the sweetness in that sentiment all the way to the tips of her toes.

In some time she asked, a bit hopefully, “Are we going to stay with the puppies forever?” She wanted the answer to be yes, fuck the rollercoaster. Spending the night getting ice cream and playing with dogs sounded much better to her.

Crystal blinked, “Oh,” she shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, “Sorry. We should go.”

Gigi would’ve much rather stayed. But she dug this grave for himself, and now there was really no choice but to lie in it. She did manage to distract Crystal a little more on the way, which wasn’t much considering Crystal was extremely easy to distract.The brunette only had to wave her arms and say look over there for the tan woman to wildly pick any random direction and find something to look at. They inspected the painted surfboards and wander through a maze of mirrors. They buy a weird little ship in a bottle that Crystal randomly fell in love with. They followed loud pew-pew sounds into a neon-lit, temporarily constructed arcade, where the lifeguard demolished Gigi in some annoying car race game. There were Pokemon in the arcade claw machines that they spent a few minutes trying to win.

“I like Pokemon,” Crystal grinned, and she filed that away, thought of herself saying it to her friends - my girlfriend likes Pokemon. The redhead was focused, tongue peeking out the corner of her lips and eyes narrowed as she navigated the claw. “I have a lot of these”

“I think they’re cute.”

“You do?”

Gigi faulted, colour rushing time her cheeks. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t think you were the type of person to like plushies.”

“What type of person did you think I was?”

Crystal shrugged, not looking away from the claw. “Very cool.”

“Oh.”

The older woman didn’t  seem very bothered by this change in perception but Gigi was, she wanted to clarify, the itch to make herself clear rising and suffocating her until it came out in a fast rush. “My friend says liking soft things doesn’t make you any less any less cool.”

Crystal glanced up, leaning forward to pat Gigi’s chest lightly. Weirdly, when she did it, it wasn’t patronizing at all. Just Crystal letting you know it’s fine. “It makes you more cool, I think.”

“Cooler,” She corrected, feeling her insiders shrivel up at her lameness. “Not more cool, cooler. I mean—that is—never mind.”

Gigi felt like a little moth drawn to a lamp - herself the moth, night-black and dirty with lies. Crystal’s the lamp, warm and sparkly like Christmas stars and fairy lights and she is so gone.

***

The Hurricane Dominator was exactly as Jan said: an atrocity. It climbed steep above the rest of the festival, and just the one visible loop of it made Gigi want to find the nearest trashcan to hurl into. It looped and curled and the cart practically hung suspended upside down at some point. She felt the integral parts of her system begin to shut down already, but Crystal rocked back on her feet, eyes wide and fists clenched, a soft wow shaping her mouth into a little O.

When they got closer, it was obvious that the line stretched all the way around the festival. Crystal’s face dropped a little. “That’s a long queue.”

Gigi tried not to let the relief show on her face. She tugged gently at the taller woman’s sleeve. “Maybe we should go on the smaller rides.”

“No, I can probably bribe someone into letting us cut the line.”

And she proceeded to do just that. Gigi stood back, slack-jawed, watching as Crystal walked up to a random guy and started promising him enough money for burgers and a drink. She threw in the little Pikachu, too, pressing it to the guy’s chest in that universal bro-thing where you slap the shit out of the other dude as hard as possible. The guy grinned and hi-fives her, proceeding to give Crystal her number, and then he and his girlfriend walked right out of the line leaving space for the older woman and Gigi.

“That guy was nice,” The lifeguard smiled, off-hand, when Gigi rushed to join her. “He has a restaurant near the water park. Said he’d give me dumplings on discount if I go there.”

The brunette huts his mouth quickly, trying to hide her astonishment.  “Do you.. is that how the world usually works for you?”

“What do you mean?” Crystal asked. “Oh. Yeah, I make friends fast! But look, we’re right at the front now.”

Gigi could feel herself start to sweat. Panic crawled up her spine, many-legged like spiders, locking up her muscles and breaking out of her in little shivers. She occupied herself with the mole on Crystal’s nose while she chattered happily about previous roller-coasters she’d tried. “There’s a TV show on an Australian channel that’s only about theme parks,” The redhead was babbling happily. Gigi really had to lean in to hear her over the death-screams of the people riding the Hurricane Dominator. “That’s how many theme parks they have. That’s my dream job.”

“Working in an Australian theme-park?”

“No. Having a show about theme-parks.”

“You must really like theme-parks.”

“I like all the rides except that thing that does the vertical drop,” Crystal muttered. “I’m scared of those ones.”

Gigi was scared of everything. As a kid, she was scared of the fucking monkey bars in the neighborhood’s jungle gym. Now that she was older she was afraid of spiders, snakes, foreclosure, unpaid credit cards, roller-coasters, ghosts, and her own truth. If she didn’t get on this thing, how is she going to tell Crystal what she was doing visiting the Vortex of Death multiple times? She imagined that conversation: I think you’re hot, so I took the death-ride twenty-one times so you could pull me out of the pool. How’s that for a meet-cute? Her palms felt clammy and sweat beaded on her brow.

The discomfort must’ve shown on her face, because Crystal asked, suddenly, “Are you okay?”

Gigi felt her soul slowly edge its way out of her body. “What?”

“You look pale. Are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

She managed to hold her tongue through climbing onto their seats, and even pulled the safety-guard down. The older woman hummed contentedly, ready to go, and turned her head to look at Gigi. Her face fell so abruptly it was like she’d decelerated from mach speed to zero.

“Hey, uhm,” Crystal hesitated, eyes nervous and twitchy, “you look really faint.”

“I feel—I feel like I might,” Gigi flinched at the sound of the rollercoaster creaking, “You know.”

“What?”

“Faint.”

The redhead wriggled a little in her seat. “Do you want to get off? We can get off. We don’t have to-“

“No, no, you wanted to do this.”

“I don’t want to do it if you’re scared,” Crystal whispers, eyebrows furrowing, “There are other rides. We can go on that Twisterado thing - or the Space Pistols-“

The brunette giggled, a bit hysterically.  “I’m scared of all the rides”

“You’re not scared of the Vortex,” Crystal said authoritatively, reaching out to pat Gigi’s thigh. “You love that ride.”

And it was at that moment - with that syrupy-orangey light still playing on Crystal’s skin, with her brows on display and confusion clearly written on her face - that Gigi realized she really couldn’t do this. She couldn’t ride this roller-coaster. She was going to fucking die. All the energy sapped out of her, siphoned through some invisible port and fed to the demonic force that powered the ride.

“I’m fucking terrified of the Vortex,” Gigi gasped, death-bed-confession heavy. “I have nightmares about that thing. When I die and go to hell, all they’ll need to torture me is to make me go on that thing again and again, get me stuck in the bottom every single time, and—”

The tan woman looked like a confused puppy. “What are you talking about? You keep coming back to go on it.”

“Yeah, well.”

“I see you literally every week.”

She shuddered. “Crystal,” he says. “I only go on it because I get - I get to see you.”

The lifeguard looked flabbergasted, eyes the size of saucers and mouth gaping wide. She opened her mouth, like she wanted to say something, and then pursed it shut again. “What?”

Gigi looked at her shoes miserably. “I only g-go on the Vortex of Death because of you. Because you–uh, you save me, and you’re cute, and I…like seeing you.”

Crystal blinked violently, head tilted, puzzlement spilled scatter-shot across her features. But now they were moving, the roller-coaster slowly pulling backward,  and she could feel all of her insides clench up in horrific anticipation of what was to come.

“I know it’s pathetic,” Gigi mumbled, hating how small she sounded. The redhead still wasn’t saying anything. Crystal was probably too nice to say how lame this was.  The brunette wanted the ride to start so her soul could fly out of her body and take her out of the older woman’s range. “It’s so pathetic. I’m sorry.”

Crystal took in a shuddering breath. She opened her mouth again.

And then, with loud music and a horrible tug at Gigi’s stomach - the ride began.

[fangirlings-things]

Burning | Athelstan

(A/N): this is just the one shot full of angst that no one asked for but I had this idea and decided to write it, I love Athelstan and miss this priest!! Let me know what you guys think and if I should write more for this fandom

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Athelstan x female reader

Word count: 2K

Warnings: angst

gif is not mine

based on this song

Summary: after Athelstan is gone, she loses her will to live and everything just seems pointless

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"You should eat" Bjorn's tone was serious, full of worry. He had his blue eyes glued to the your face, his fist clenched fiercely around a cup of ale. He had almost forgotten about his drink, since his attention had been instantly and completely drawn to (Y/N) when he was on the other side of the hall. The expression on your face was so empty and hollow, that it made him walk towards you and sit by your side at the wooden bench. 

"I am not hungry" you replied simply, not even turning towards him as you answered. Your eyes were fixed on an inexistent point in front of you, ignoring completely the feast, the music and the laughs that were spreaded all across the place. You were the only one there, who wasn't even slightly happy. You were in pain and Bjorn knew why, even though he thought it would be better not to mention it. Everyone was trying not to mention it in your presence, for the best. 

"You have to eat something, otherwise you'll fall ill" he tried to get some reason into you, as determined as ever even if you were hardly trying to ignore him and his words. He noticed that you took a deep breath, your hair raising upon your chest as you did so. You seemed not to care at all about what he was saying. Frustrated and mostly worried about his friend, he placed his hand on yours and squeezed it hardly, trying to bring you back from whatever dark place you found herself in. By the way you shuddered under his touch, he knew you were now really listening to him. "Winter is close now and being weak at it is bad, you know that. You could not survive"

"Maybe that is what I want" only then you turned your face to his, and in that moment he was able to see that your eyes were glistening with tears. The pain you were feeling seemed almost tangible, so hard and strong it was. So present he could see it carved into every little detail of your beautiful features. Your words hit him so hard. Harder than many strikes he had taken in battle before. "Perhaps dying will be better than living like this" a tear stremed down your face as you gently took your hand out of his and got up, running away and shutting him down like you had been doing for a while now. Since he had been killed. 

"You think Althestan would want for you to die?" Bjorn spoke up as you started to walk away, a certain despair taking a hold of him and making him say that. He feared for your future. And even more for the fact that you seemed to not desire a future at all anymore. 

The statement had the expected effect on (Y/N). You turned around, back to Bjorn and he could see the intense horror in you. To hear his name said again, in such a way, made everything worse. As you hadn't already reached your limit of bearable pain. You took what seemed to be an eternity to finally speak, searching inside youself for words. Any words at all, that would take the echo of his name out of the air, that had became heavy and poisoned. Filled with pain. 

"He is dead" you repressed a sob, eyes on Bjorn's with so fixation that he felt a shiver running down his spine. You had never given him such a harsh look. "What he would want, will not change reality anymore. Can't change it. Because he is dead." you repeated the initial words, biting so hard at your lower lip to repress a sob that you felt the metalic taste of blood on your mouth. 

"(Y/N)..." Bjorn started with a heavy sight, regretting what he had said already. Instead of helping, he had just made it all worse. 

As soon as he tried to speak again though you decided to not give him a second chance and turned around, pushing people aside to get out of that hall as soon as possible. You wanted to get away from the feast. Away from Bjorn. Away from everyone, because none of them were him. 

None of them was Althestan. Hear and see those people laughing and smiling, hugging each other and enjoying good company only made you think more and more about the fact that you weren't ever going to see his smile again or hear his musical laugh. You would never be hugged by him again or lay by his side at night. He was gone. Just disappeared. 

All you wanted, was to disappear as well. 

              ─━━━━━━⊱❉⊰━━━━━━─

"You wanted to see me, King Ragnar?" you had your eyes glued to the floor underneath your feet, analysing all the imperfections and dirt in it, as well as some stains you recognized as ale ones. Now, the hall was completely silent expect for the sound of your and Ragnar's breathing. It didn't seem at all that in the night before, that place had been completely crowded with the people of Kattegat. 

"Yes, I wanted to see you (Y/N)" Ragnar was on his feet as well, his muscled arms crossed over his chest and the usual serious expression on his face. It remembered you of Bjorn's own expression at the feast. They were so similar, those too. More than even they could see it. "Bjorn told me you have not been eating properly"

With a heavy sight, you felt anger fill your whole being. You wanted to scream at Bjorn, tell him to leave you be and mind his own problems. Deep down though, what stopped you was the knowledge that he was doing that to help you. He was trying to save you from youself and your self destructive thoughts. Although, you felt already long gone now. No salvation for you left. 

"With all the respect my Lord, Bjorn should not have said such things. I have been feeding" you forced the words out after a moment, thinking twice about every single word before mumbling it out. 

"Enough to sustain your health?" insisted Ragnar, and the firmess on his voice made you raise your head to stare at him. You saw that he had his eyebrows raised and clearly, hadn't accepted your poor statement. As in response to the questioning you averted your eyes from his quicky, the King squeezed his lips on a thin line, understanding the silent answer. "Bjorn also, said that you talked about not wanting to live anymore. (Y/N)" again, his voice was so firm that you had the obligation to look up and meet his blue eyes with yours. There was compassion on Ragnar's eyes as he took a few steps towards you and then stopped at a short distance. From up close, you could see that the King, as you, had a great pain carved on his face. "You're suffering"

And right there, you fell apart. The tears came crashing down like waves on a boat, running down your cheeks like an unstoppable river. The knot on your throat was so great that you for a second, couldn't even get breath into your lungs. Everything just hurt so much. 

Ragnar didn't say anything as he watched you painfully tremble from head to feet. Didn't spoke as he saw the tears falling on his hall. He shared your pain. Closing the rest of the distance between you two he passed his arms around your much smaller body and squeezed you tightly, trying to give you some comfort. 

"I miss him too" he whispered in your ear, and that made you sob out loud. So loud you were sure someone on the outside, passing by, would probably be able to hear it. It was an awful sound. The most truly terrible sound Ragnar had ever heard on his troubled life. 

"Make this pain go away, Ragnar. Please, make it stop" your hands were grabbing at his shirt firmly, it seeming to be the only thing keeping you from falling. The words were mumbled out through sobs, uncontactable tears still flowing out of your eyes "I can't take it. I'm burning. There's a flame on my chest and I can't..." whatever you were going to say afterwards, was never said. You just sobbed again, even more deeply and painfully now than before. 

Feeling tears run down his own face, Ragnar gently pulled away and grabbed your face with both of his hands. His palms were warm and comforting on your wet cheeks. Your eyes were both red and sore from the crying. 

"I am not going to let you die" you opened your mouth in a protest, but he silenced you with just a hard look. "I'm not. Althestan is in heaven now, watching us. He would want me to take care of you" his calloused fingers stroke your right cheek slowly, the knot on his own throat threatening to suffocate him. Oh, did he miss his best friend. The person he trusted the most in the whole world. "He loved you so much"

(Y/N) hugged Ragnar again, didn't minding the fact that he was the King. He was just a friend in that moment. The one person who really shared your pain and understood it. 

"Why do we have to carry such a burden?" you asked the man, your face resting against his chest and wetting his shirt. His grip on you was firm, keeping you up and alive. Like he had just said he would. 

"I suppose this is the work of the gods" Ragnar shut his eyes as he placed his chin on your head, sighting. He smiled when a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Or perhaps, it is the work of Althestan's God. The Christian God. 

"Why would he have to take Althestan away so soon? Why?"

"I don't know" Ragnar admitted, having thought the same thing since the got the word of his friend's death. He did not understand. Both of them didn't. 

Sighting heavily again you turned your head completely to the side, pressing your ear flat against Ragnar's heart and so being able to hear his heartbeat. 

In the corner of the room, close to the doors, you saw a shadow. Someone watching. The thought of getting caught at such a intimate moment with the King filled you with worry, but you didn't had the strength or the will to get out of that embrace. So you blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the blurry vision caused by the tears. With you vision now clear, you saw who was standing there. 

Althestan was smiling at you two. At you. He was wearing his monk clothes, although his hair was long like you had gotten used to. All the air left your body, you couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Just looked at him, the tears getting even more insistent. 

His smile got wider and you understood what he was trying to say with that kind smile. Take care of each other. As well as I love you. He always had had that look in his eyes when he said he loved you. 

And then without saying anything he walked away and pass the doors of the hall, and as much as you wanted to scream for him to stay, you didn't. You knew he didn't belong to you anymore. He belonged to his God. On the outside he disappeared after a few seconds under the sun light, leaving. Gone. 

Feeling your heart heavier and yet lighter inside your chest you were able to crack out a painful little smile, deciding that you did not want to die anymore. You wanted to stay alive. 

You would live day after day, just waiting for him to pay you a visit again.