#sick and disgusting the way i want to climb him like a tree

[unsettlingg]

I am foaming at the mouth on my knees begging to GOD. I AM SO UNWELL. The sight of this man and I am in SHAMBLES. A SINGLE piece of that man. A CRUMB. I have dug a hole to bury myself in my own grave and am rolling in it. Truly irredeemable

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

46 + 67 for the trope mashup please? 💖

Is there anything more ooey gooey than a sick fic?

46 Sick!Fic/Injury + 67 Casual Intimacy/Physical Comfort

“You didn’t get enough milk as a kid,” Mickey pointed it out. “Your sister always watered that shit down.”

“Is that right, Mickey Milk?” Ian asked teasingly through the pain meds as the nurse wrapped his arm up in the hardening cast.

Mickey nodded with his eyebrows raised and his lower lip pinched with two front teeth. Ian was just glad he was back to teasing, he’d been a nervous wreck from the second Ian had cried out in pain, and nearly fainted at the sight of bone where it was sticking out from under Ian’s skin. 

Ian learned a long time ago that Mickey could go a little batshit when it came to protecting his nest, and Ian was a very big part of his nest. He’d already talked to Mickey about not being a total fucking dick to the nurses, because his husband was an asshole and Ian had to have surgery to reset his arm so naturally Mickey was a bit well, high strung.

“Why’d you have to break your right arm, man?” Mickey whined once they got back to the truck, annoyance not shown in the gentle way he was buckling the seat belt around Ian’s sling. “I’m going to be wiping your ass for weeks.”

“You’re not going to be wiping my ass,” Ian said indignantly. “I mean, I’ll need a little help-”

“Ian, I’m joking obviously. That’s the whole point of having a husband, when I become a demented fuck from all the headshots I’ve taken over the years you’ll be there to remind me who the hell I am. We do need to stop by to show Franny that you’re alive because she’s flipping her shit right now, she thinks it’s her fault.”

Ian sighed but agreed, stopping by the house for a couple of minutes so that Franny could see that he was mostly completely fine. 

It fucking hurt, his arm really fucking hurt and he didn’t want to keep taking the pain meds. Thirty somethings don’t usually break their arms climbing trees so the world isn’t really built around accommodating him, luckily his husband is a beast with bark and bite and extreme care. 

His sixth sense when it came to Ian was almost creepy sometimes. After the first week, Ian stopped gloating over the royal treatment Mickey needed to give him. It was funny at first, but he was soon slightly annoyed and embarrassed about being washed, fed, and dressed because all he had was his stupid, useless left hand. 

And he felt like he was all stupid, unless left hand. So he didn’t want to let on when his arm was killing him, or when he was getting annoyed by the coddling, and yet somehow Mickey knew. He’d sling an arm around Ian while they were watching movies and dig his thumb into the joint between his shoulder and arm, saying nothing until the tension dissipated. Then he’d get up and claim to be in desperate need for peanut M&Ms, leaving Ian alone in the apartment for a few minutes while he ran to the corner store. 

By the time he got back, all the frustration and humiliation of the day seemed to have melted away and they could try to throw candy into each other mouths from opposite ends of the couch. 

The day Ian got the cast off was as massive relief, they were both so excited for Ian to be able to use his fucking hands again, Mickey watched excitedly as they took the saw to his disgusting off white cast, even leaning in and letting out an theatrical eww at the sight of his dirty, shriveled limb. 

That night when they got home Ian announced that he was overdo for a shower, stripping down and staring expectantly at Mickey. 

Mickey raised his eyebrows, staring back at his husband. 

“Aren’t you coming?” Ian asked curiously. 

“I thought you’d want to maybe, I don’t know, wash your own hair since you’re been bitching for the last week.”

“Well,” Ian said slightly huffy. “I liked it when you washed my hair, maybe I just wanted the option to do it myself.”

Mickey shook his head with an indulgent smile, stripping his shirt off and throwing it playfully at his husbands face on his way to the bathroom.  

Hope you enjoyed :)

[yikesharringrove]

ed steve being ghosted by billy and assuming it's bc of his body or weight

tw: eating disorder (anorexia) btw this is angst with happy ending

"So, um, yeah. Just call me back if you want to do something tomorrow night."

Steve hung up the phone, wiping his sweaty palm on the leg of his jeans.

He had had plans with Billy last night. Plans that, when Steve texted to confirm, never actually happened.

He had texted to see if Billy wanted to do something tonight.

No response.

Texted to say that he was free all weekend if Billy was available.

No response.

So, the phone call was his last-ditch effort.

He called Billy, said it's okay if he's too busy, but they could hang out tomorrow night. Steve's parents would be gone.

Usually, the promise of sex had Billy chomping at the bit to spend some time with Steve. Even if they weren't together they were mostly dating. Their hangouts didn't feel all that platonic, especially when they ended with serious make-out sessions, or with Billy spending the night in Steve's bed.

He bit at his nails, tossing his phone down on the bed next to him, flopping back to lie down.

He was trying not to overthink.

Billy is probably just busy. He's on the basketball team, and he's on the fucking Model U.N., and that stupid club (that Steve doesn't understand) eats up time like nothing else.

The bitchy voice in his head tells him that he's just too busy for Steve.

He's probably bored of him, anyway.

Steve really only has a handful of interesting things to say, and he tells the same stories again and again.

Plus, he's kinda gross.

He used to be good-looking, back when he was on the swim team and working out for hours every day.

He's not muscular anymore, he hasn't been in a while.

Once he quit sports, he was toeing the line of fat, and at least he isn't that anymore.

Well, he still is. Toeing the line, that is.

He's constantly trying not to put on more weight.

It's hard, when it seems that everything he eats goes right to his tummy, or his back, or his stupid stupid thighs.

He's been trying to keep everything under control.

He only eats once a day, if that, and he's been trying to skip when he can. He's been on an every-other-day eating streak for the past few days, and he's thinking, if Billy is so utterly disgusted by him, that he won't even respond, maybe he needs to widen that gap. See if he can go two days between.

The weight should stay off, and maybe, once he finally gets thin enough, maybe he can try again with Billy.

Once he's not quite so big, maybe he'll even let Billy fuck him with the lights on.

Or, maybe, Billy is simply done with him.

He's sick of Steve and his gross, ugly body, and ghosting him is the easiest way to do it. He doesn't have to even have to see Steve again. He can just go away and never have to look at him-

The window rattled, and Billy tumbled in unceremoniously, leaves in his hair and a cut on his cheek.

He grinned at Steve from the floor.

"Hey, Stevie."

"Billy, shit. What are you doing here?"

Steve sat up quickly, yanking the blanket over his legs, not wanting Billy to see him in such short shorts.

"My dad took my fucking phone. Something about breaking curfew, and I was super grounded last night, so I missed our date. He's fucking passed out by now, so, I thought I'd ninja my way in here."

He stood up, shaking the leaves out of his hair and dusting off his jeans.

Steve was still more than a little bit caught up on the missed our date part of what he'd said.

"Sorry? Date?"

Billy stared at him.

"Don't tell me you forgot. We were supposed to go to a movie yesterday."

"Yeah, I remember. I guess I just. I didn't know it was a date?"

And Billy, bless those big blue eyes of his, just kept staring at Steve.

And Steve was starting to feel a little squeamish about how much he was looking at him.

"Why wouldn't it be? I mean, did I just climb up that fucking stupid tree just to have you dump me, because that really-"

"No!" Steve said, wincing at how loud his voice was. "I just, I thought we were friends."

And then Billy's face went bright fucking red, and he looked down at his boots, probably getting dirt and mud on Steve's bedroom floor.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry. I guess I misread, I mean. I'm sorry-"

Steve decided he'd have to throw caution to the wind here.

He tried to ignore the sight of his own legs, walking up to stand nearly toe-to-toe with Billy.

"I didn't think you liked me like that."

Billy looked back up at him, making quick eye contact before looking away again.

"I know what people say about me, but I don't just sleep with anyone."

"No, I mean I didn't think you liked me like that. I didn't think I was." Steve stopped himself. Now it was his turn to look away.

"What? Didn't think you were what?"

"Good enough," Steve breathed between them. "I'm not. You can do better."

Billy didn't say anything, and for one terrible moment, Steve thought he was going to agree. He was going to agree and leave the way he climbed in.

"Nah. Nothin' better than you."

Billy kissed him tenderly, and holy shit, how had Steve thought they were friends this whole time? Maybe he's a fucking idiot too-

"Stop thinking. Just let me kiss you, Baby."

It was easy to stop thinking while Billy kissed him. Because Billy kissed him like he was special.

Billy kissed Steve the same way Steve kissed Billy.

Like he loves him.

[kylermalloy]

Something something plantcest Flowers in the Attic AU

For the uninitiated, Flowers in the Attic is a gothic horror novel published in 1979 by VC Andrews. Four siblings are locked in an attic for years on end. Incest ensues.

So imagine—Vash and Nai locked up at a young age due to [unspecified tragedy] befalling Rem, which twists their subsequent development around each other

Oh my GOSH this is perfect for them

Here’s how I think it would go. Bulleted list to follow

Warnings: transphobia, manipulation, dubcon, periods, pregnancy, miscarriage

The twins are about ten when Rem dies and are passed into the hands of some relative or guardian (I am too lazy rn to elaborate further on this character)

Cruel guardian disgusted by their existence for [unspecified puritanical reason]

Does not believe Vash when he asserts he’s a boy; only provides him with dresses and skirts which he hates to wear

Nai shares his clothes with Vash so he feels comfortable

Vash adores wearing his brother’s clothes; they’re a little too big but they’re always warm and they smell like Nai. It’s a win-win.

Guardian is incredibly paranoid about the twins lusting after one another; insists they bathe, dress, sleep separately

They Do Not. They do everything together.

Vash longs for the outside. Presses his nose to the glass, dreams of climbing trees and growing flowers and going to school—

Nai helps him draw flowers all over the walls of the attic

Whenever their guardian catches Vash wearing Nai’s clothes, they’re liable to not get any food for a few days, at least

Puberty hits them both like a truck; Nai’s voice drops, Vash gets menstrual cramps and cries over his chest pains night after night

They climb out the window, sometimes, at night. Sit on the roof and watch the stars. They know them all by name; it’s in one of the books they’ve been allowed to have.

In that peace, that sliver of freedom, Vash longs for more. Maybe he cries about it. Maybe Nai just wanted to kiss him. Anyway, they discover kissing as they do all things—together.

Within a year they’re exploring each others’ bodies. They were made for this, Nai tells him. They belong together. It’s so natural, the way Nai rises under Vash’s touch, how Vash becomes slick enough for Nai to slide right into him—

Vash is pregnant by age thirteen.

They’re almost relieved when it bleeds out of him after just a few months.

Still, some part of Vash shatters when he realizes what’s happened.

He draws more flowers on the wall, over the old ones. It looks to Nai like a memorial.

Nai can’t promise him another baby. How he could he, when they’re so young, when they live like this, when they’re brothers—

It happens again, anyway.

They’re fifteen when the baby is born. It’s a girl, and miraculously, she’s healthy.

And loud. She’s very loud.

They’ve done all they can to conceal Vash’s condition from their guardian—wrapping him in coats and blankets, him feigning sickness for the last few months, when his belly is far too swollen to hide

But how can they hush a newborn baby?

Guardian finds out, cuts off their food entirely

Vash is near hysterics; how can he feed the baby if he can’t feed himself?

They’re on the brink of starvation when their guardian returns with food; announces the plan to send the baby to an orphanage

Nai snaps. He’s gotten a knife from somewhere, and—well.

They escape, two penniless boys and a newborn baby.

Making a new life for themselves is hard; they must reinvent who they are so as to appear ~acceptable~ to society

Their mother is newly deceased; the baby is their sister. They certainly haven’t been locked in an attic for five years, nope, nuh-uh.

It’s all so overwhelming. The boys deal with freedom in different ways. Nai is aloof, cut off from connecting with others—except Vash. Vash, on the other hand, gives a piece of his heart to everyone he meets.

Nai’s not jealous, of course. He knows Vash belongs to him, utterly and completely.

Right?

He begins to restrict where Vash can go, who he can see. Stay inside, brother, the baby needs you. Trust me, I know what’s best.

Vash naturally acquiesces, but he longs for the outside, for the freedom he dreamed of for so long. The flowers, the trees.

Someone probably guesses their secret about the baby, or at least part of it. Vash’s chest is a little too prominent, and people are cruel and judgmental.

Nai takes drastic measures to defend his little brother. They may or may not have to hide a body.

Sometimes, Vash whispers, he thinks it would be easier if they split up. At least for a little while.

Nai stiffens. Absolutely not.

They haven’t had full-on sex since the baby, but Nai pushes until Vash agrees to it. He warns Nai to be careful, though—they can’t explain another baby!

We’ll go away, then, Nai says. Somewhere they don’t know us.

He won’t let Vash get away from him, no matter what.

…and that’s where my imagination runs out for now. Suffice to say whatever happens after will be painful.

[ioannemos]

jason: 2, 14 | david: 5, 16 | christine: 8, 12 | michelle: 13, 20 | sam: 14, 20 | muninn: 15, 29

🥰

JASON

describe your character's voice. do they have a voice claim?

no voice claim. i imagine him in the low-tenor range; superb diction, snappy response time, with the occasional tendency to slip into a sort of... after-action report cadence/narration (short sentences, event-focused, impartial)

he's much freer in spanish. not spellbinding by any means but he actually uses descriptive language

an embarrassing secret about your OC?

he has his mother's name tattooed in a heart on his right hip, maybe two inches square, acquired while drunk in the kind of tattoo parlor overseas that would tattoo obviously drunk soldiers. he's not embarrassed about the tattoo, per se, and more about how he implied to his fellow soldiers and the tattoo artist that 'alicia' was, y'know, a different kind of someone waiting for him at home

---

DAVID

what was your character's dream job as a kid? is it different than what their career ended up being?

astronaut. turns out you need to be able to read 😔 he likes being a welder, tho - metal doesn't care how you feel. don't know what you're feeling? weld about it! just don't be stupid

how does your OC feel about their parents?

he misses his mom. he feels more kinship with his dad but the very nature of that kinship is estrangement from people, so

---

CHRISTINE

what book genre is their favorite?

historical romance. not pulp, tho - she likes historical accuracy, or at least nothing egregiously unrealistic

how well did your OC do in school?

...c's get degrees 😅 she did not do well. she doesn't have a head for math, her interest in history came later in life, it took until the very end of college to figure out the best way for her to write papers... judging her by her academic record would be judging a fish by its ability to climb trees

---

MICHELLE

where would your OC like to go on a honeymoon?

a year-long trip around the mediterranean region, with special attention to rome. if she had to pick a city, she'd pick rome

a nostalgic memory from your OC’s childhood?

she spent a week decorating her new Big Girl Bike with stickers, paint pens, glitter, etc before deciding she wanted the training wheels taken off Right Now. her dad put off mowing the lawn to teach her how to ride it without the training wheels and they ended up spending the whole morning together, ending by biking together to an ice cream stand a few blocks away

---

SAM

an embarrassing secret about your OC?

he can't keep effect and affect straight. he's a grown-ass fifty-five year old man and he'll still wince as he types out an email, hoping that he got it right this time... only to sigh in disgust when the little spell check prompt comes up again, verdammt

a nostalgic memory from your OC’s childhood?

when he was nine his mom lied to her workplace and his school that they were sick and took him to the museum three days in a row bc an exhibition about space was ending and she wanted him to see it but couldn't afford weekend tickets. he'd heard about it maybe twice and the idea of getting to go hadn't even crossed his mind. he was blown away. it was so hard not to tell his friends about it

---

MUNINN

who is your OC’s best friend?

i had a bit of a crisis about this one but i think it's christine. she's scary good with emotional insight, which he is sorely lacking. this has led to more than one conversation that boiled down to

him: ugh i've been angry about [x] for like three days now her: hmm. actually you've been upset for a week. do you think it's about [x]? maybe you're sad about [h] him: ...what. sad? about [h]? that's bs. no. *six hours later* okay fine. you're right. again. now what

they have a similar sense of humor, and while christine would feel bad about expressing it this way they're both the kind of person to jump to "i have a shovel, who are we murdering with it" when someone they care about is hurt in any way

when was their first kiss?

sixth grade. it was a dare. he barely remembers her name... joan? janet? he's pretty sure it started with a j...

[themazeofdigitalnightmares]

My clothes had become bloody and muddy throughout my time in the Maze. I was starting to forget what John looked like when we first entered the Maze. I was punching a tree, until I suddenly heard a familiar voice: The Entity, that had been manipulating me since I arrived in this world. "Alex, it's time for your final test," the Entity said ominously. “Or will you crumble and fall like so many before you?"

I felt a surge of anger rise up within me. He had been manipulating me for so long, making me doubt everything I knew to be true. But I refused to give up now. "I won't let you win," I said through gritted teeth.

“Go to the building,” said the Entity, before falling silent. Despite not wanting to give in to his wishes, I walked towards the building. Once I was there I slowly made my way through the abandoned building, the sound of my footsteps echoing through the empty halls. My heart was pounding in my chest as I searched for any sign of John.

After climbing fifteen stairs and searching through every floor, I finally found John. What I saw made my heart sink. John’s hands were twisted and malformed, and he had razor-sharp claws. He had been transformed into a Binary. He was barely conscious, and it was clear that there was no way of saving him.

I felt my heart sink. This was not the way out. This was just another sick game.

"You see what happens when you play with things you don't understand?" the Entity taunted. "You thought you could escape, but all you did was bring ruin upon yourselves."

John looked at me, and he was filled with disgust. I could feel it in every bone of my body. I felt like screaming: I had been so close to finding a way out, but now I was looking fate right in the eye.

I tried to run, but it was too late. John attacked me, tearing me apart just as the Binaries had done to him. The last thing I heard was the Entity, laughing in triumph as it claimed another victim.

[the-land-of-eternal-winter-novel]

Chapter 7 – The Reconciliation

Kęstas stood outside as if paralyzed by emotion, then he eventually came inside, trembling without noticing. Elena, who woke up in the meantime, questioned him. He found no way to respond in such a way as not to shock her.

"...I met Anatoliy..."

"I hope you told him to go away."

"I almost killed him..."

"Did he attack you, or...?" she muttered in disbelief.

"No, I wanted to hit him with my axe... I wanted to take revenge... He ran away."

Elena didn't have anymore words, and she was beyond conflicted. Much as she detested her brother, the thought of him being killed by none other than her husband made her sick. She asked to be left alone for a while. She felt like everybody had betrayed her, and that she was the only moral person left in her family. She thought to herself that she wouldn't ever try to take revenge on anybody. Then she thought how she should take her husband's side, as she had disowned her brother. And after all, the guilty must get their punishment. Did her familal ties get in the way of her sense of justice, or was it the other way around? Was she ready to leave her husband because he was now guilty? Or was he even considered guilty by her standard? What was get standard, even? Shun everybody whom she saw as immoral, or accept any wrongdoing, so long as it was commited by her loved ones? She realized she was willing to let Kęstas' deed, but still she saw her brother with icy eyes. Had she always hated him? She realized how inconsistent she was, and the whispered to herself in disgust: "you're the biggest hypocrite there ever was".

Kęstas couldn't sleep at all, so he went outside again after squirming around for a few hours. He went uphill towards the church. While climbing, he took the time to reflect. He felt regret piercing him, wondering how he stooped so low. Hot tears fell down his face as he thought this. He had thought himself virtuous, but now he realized that he was no better than his enemy. He even began to imagine that Anatoliy had felt much the same as him, justifiably enraged by his father's untimely death. He also imagined what would have happened if he did, in fact, take revenge. Inevitably, someone would have avenged Anatoliy, then the cycle would have continued forever.

He eventually reached the church, and he confessed, though he was reluctant at first, lest the others learn the truth and fear him. He kept talking to the priest until sunrise, and the priest started reading the Scriptures to him: "Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord." The passage made him feel even more guilty, but then he wondered why he had expected to get comfort. He knew what he was supposed to do. After going downhill, he rested against a tree and sighed.

He prayed for forgiveness, remembering his many sins, starting with his attempt to kill his enemy, his rebellion against his parents, his prideful attitude. He then felt peace in his soul, knowing he was forgiven. Because of this, he knew he was supposed to forgive Anatoliy as well, difficult how it may be. He spent some more time alone, thinking and praying, and wondering what to do next.

In the meantime, Grigoriy was preparing to go to war against the neighbouring country, sure that he would be able to defeat and conquer it. Learning of his plans, Radek rushed to get Elena back, so that she could take the throne. Anatoliy tried to dissuade him, reminding him of what happened to him when he tried to reason woth them, but Radek left nonetheless, certain that they would listen if the words came from him. Anatoliy was not to go to war, were there to be a war, because of his condition. He was still waiting for a future trial, but it was continually postponed due to the many conflicts in the country.

Instead, he went to his house in the capital, and Ingrid followed him.

"I know I said I’ll never come back, but I wanted to be by your side when mourning your sister. I can’t believe this happened to her... She was a wonderful person... Your family have been all so kind to me..."

"It’s only my fault this happened... If I hadn’t killed the king, the revolutionaries wouldn’t have attacked us, and Elena wouldn’t have turned on me, and Radek wouldn’t hate me... I deserve what’s coming to me, but Sveta was totally innocent."

She didn’t respond then, but she stayed by his side. She noticed that he showed much remorse for his deeds. She didn’t want to hate him. In fact, she wished they could reconcile, but she has a nagging thought that if she continued their relationship it would be seen as an endorsement of his behavior. Then she analyzed again her attitude towards forgiveness: she really did confuse it with claiming one to be guiltless...

At night, she allowed him to sleep in the same bedroom, which surprised him. He lit the fireplace, and they went to bed early. Soon enough, the baby started crying, and Anatoliy got up immediately, as if he never got to fall asleep, and tried to calm his child. He held little Oleg in his arms, sat down on a chair and started whispering softly to him.

"My poor little Olezhka... What have I done to you? Because of me, you will be seen as the son of a criminal... Why didn’t I think of you when I did what I did? I said I love my family, but I neglected you, and your dear mother... I said I loved my family, but because of my deed, it was my family who suffered the most. And who was that man, Vaidas? A father, a grandfather... Oh, I didn’t truly show love towards family, nor did I really do justice..." He was caressing the baby’s head and back, but he was still crying.

"I love you so much, my dear child, and I love your mother more than I could ever express. Why didn’t I show it? Why did I care more about avenging my father than caring for you?" He started crying as well, but he didn’t raise his voice at all. "I love you so much my dear Oleg... but one day you will hate me... When you’ll learn the truth...Forgive me for ruining your life... I’m so sorry..." He started gently rocking the baby and singing him a song he used to sing whenever he put him to bed.

Ingrid had woken up in the meantime, but she stood still, listening to what he had been saying. She imagined that he knew she was awake, and he was trying to say those things to her indirectly, because it otherwise seemed strange to confess to a baby. However, she found the scene moving. After Oleg fell back asleep, Anatoliy went to bed, too. Ingrid gently touched his back and said: "I forgive you..."

Although he still felt guilty and anxious, Anatoliy enjoyed the following days spent with his family. He was grateful to have such a loving wife, whom he felt he didn't deserve, and he tried his best to show it. He also loved spending time with his son, watching him taking his first steps and even speaking a few words. He sang to him everyday, hoping he would also develop a taste for music. He even placed him on top of the harpsichord in the living room while he played, and Ingrid would sometimes join them, singing the lyrics to the song. Oleg made loud sounds, not yet resembling melody, then laughed, pleased with his "musical performance".

Anatoliy absorbed every second of such days, but, each following night, he got the sinking feeling that it was all going to end, and that nothing will be the same again. He feared he only lied to himself that things had gotten back to normal, so he tried even more to distract himself from these thoughts by any means possible. When he woke up in the middle of the night, as he often did, he watched over the baby. Sometimes he looked at him, seeing his curly, blond hair, like his mother's, and he hoped he would resemble her more than just physically. Often, when he was awake at night, it was because he had had a nightmare. Most often, he would dream about harm coming to his family. Then, when he checked the baby's crib, he counted his breaths up to a certain number, or sometimes ge even picked him up and listened to his heartbeat, also counting to certain numbers. He accidentally woke him up a few times, but he felt relieved that he was alive. He would do similar routines in regard to his wife, and he either watched her until he felt the perceived danger had passed, or he held onto her tighter. However, during the day, he was mostly able to keep such thoughts at bay, or, at least, he had plenty of means to distract himself.

Meanwhile, Žydras tried talking to Gintarė more and more often, but one day, being sick of it, she rejected him.

"Don't think for a second that I tolerate your romantic advances! We may be forced to collaborate, but this doesn't mean I associate with you. I know this story all too well: a rich man tries to take advantage of young, poor women, and without consequences. I will not let you."

He wished to explain to her that she misconstrued his intentions, but he gave up altogether when he heard her talking to Mantas about their ambitions if they win, and she mentioned wanting to be the First Lady if Mantas was to be president.

Due to their proximity, Žydras had no choice but to interact with his father and his sister. It was easier for him to talk to Melynė, but he barely exchanged greetings with his father. However, when he opened up about his disappointment regarding Gintarė, his father comforted him as well. He would've wished to disregard his advice, but he was too pleasantly surprised that his father had a good conversation with him to remember he was still holding grudges. At least that day, they spent quality time together. In the evening, they read a newspaper.

"Does it say about us?"

"It does, but it's a small column at the end of the paper. "

"What could possibly be more urgent?" asked Melynė.

"Quote: Scandal in Vespuccia. Majority votes for president Joaquín-Gabriel Martínez to be impeached."

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 9): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: nothing is the way it was before. there is no future; there is no past. all there is... is nothing. 

wc: 2.1k

tw: light gore

masterlist

“She’s not gonna eat; I already told you that.” 

The sounds of Kaori and Toji fighting just outside of your door leak into your room, but you’re beyond caring. Megumi sits beside you in the sun-lit room, eyes scanning the outdoors, looking for any sign of an animal. You’re tucked underneath a warm, thick blanket, despite the temperature outside being warm enough to cause a little sweat. No, things were better this way. 

When you had come to after blacking out, Toji, Kaori, and Megumi were hovering over you, trying to figure out what to do about the General’s untimely passing. But in the two months since, no one had quite figured out how to bring you back to life. The only thing they could do is watch you slowly waste away and become a shell of your former self. 

Your parents suspect it’s because your princely husband had not sent for you since the war had ended, and you’re grieving a supposed loss. But neither Kaori nor Toji had the heart to admit that this loss wasn’t supposed. It was real. 

Your days are spent in your bed or in the garden behind the house, mind empty as Megumi attempts to watch over you and possibly even cheer you up by play-fighting with his father. But more often than not, you’re reduced to tears, and Toji fetches Kaori because he “can’t deal with crying women”. 

“My lady?” The head maid enters into your room with an orange and onigiri in her hands. “I brought you some fresh fruit from the market. Hamai sends her regards as well.” Hamai - Yuta’s sister and wife of Yuko - had also attempted to visit you, but her grief motivated her to knock on your door, and you couldn’t bear to think of Yuta or Nanami or--

“Thank you,” you croak, and she nods, handing Megumi the two onigiri. 

“Your father said you’d better eat these or he’ll never--”

“‘Feed me again’. I know,” Megumi chants monotonously and takes the rice balls from her hands. “Thank you, Kaori-san.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want any visitors?” Kaori asks for the third time. You cut your eyes to her, attempting a glare. “Hamai would love to come and--” 

“Listen, the lady said no visitors,” Toji gripes, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ve been fighting off a ton of measly looking men who have nothing to say except ‘I’ve come to see Lady y/n’ and honestly, if you invite another person to this damn place, I’ll kill them on the spot.”

You roll away from the two people and look out of the window, remaining silent as Megumi eats his onigiri and stares at the bears and tigers in his book. Kaori and Toji retreat, restarting their squabble as soon as the door closes, leaving you to think about nothing and no one. 

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re in the garden when Megumi runs up to you, holding a light pashmina to cover your shoulders in the chill of fall. 

“Careful, you might get sick,” he warns, and you accept the article with a smile. 

“Thank you, sweet one.” The child climbs onto the bench you’re seated on, swinging his legs while you stare at the shishi-odoshi in silence. You’re suddenly reminded of the three other sweet children you left back at the camp, and before you can begin to sob out loud, your hand flies to your mouth. 

“Hey,” Toji appears from the house, hands deep in his pockets as he surveys the area. “You alright?” 

“Just fine,” you whisper, pushing back tears and grief all at once. “I just needed some peace and quiet.” 

“Yeah, gardens will give you that.” Toji stands beside the fountain and stares into the water for a moment before turning to Megumi. “There’s a frog out by the lake if you’re interested in--” Megumi hops down from the bench and disappears around the corner in a flash, abandoning you without a worry in the world. You sigh, watching him fade into the distance, and then turn to Toji, who is already staring at you with some unreadable expression. 

“What is it?” you grumble, blinking slowly. 

“Nothing, just…” Toji presses his lips together and looks sky-ward, thinking about his next words carefully. “I know you feel like everyone in the whole world can fuck off since Geto died… but have you ever considered moving on?” You tilt your head to the side, wondering if Toji really ever listened to himself talk. “I mean, yeah this shit is painful, but…” Toji rubs his neck and looks away from you and back to the fountain. “You have to move on at some point.” 

“He told me to wait for him,” you explain, wrapping the pashmina a little tighter and squinting at the shapes in the pool. “I’m going to do just that.”

“Y/n, he’s dead… what good will waiting do? Will you wait your whole life?” 

Your head snaps to Toji and you curl your lip up in disgust. 

“You’ve never loved anyone in this world but yourself and your money,” you spit, standing from your seated position so fast that Toji takes a half-step back. “I don’t imagine that you’d know what I’m talking about.” 

“That’s not true,” he retorts, frowning. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. I’d hate to see you waste away over a man who can’t even survi--” The pashmina falls from your shoulders as your hand makes contact with his face, the echo of the slap scaring a flock of birds from the surrounding trees into the sky. 

“Speak ill of Geto again, and I’ll make sure those words are your last.” Toji doesn’t touch his bruised cheek as you stomp off, watching you retreat back into the house as he realizes that he let you slap him. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Screams haunt your sleep, fire burns the camp, and you’re running away, holding hands with the children as you dash into the forest. Geto is behind you, fighting off some unknown assailant, but you instinctively know how the dream is going to end.

You trip and fall over a root of a tree, but you yell at the children to escape. They continue running, not sparing you a second glance, but you turn around just as Geto is stabbed through the chest by a spear and falls with his back to the ground.  His head tilts back and he makes eye contact with you, blood pouring out of his mouth as he chokes:

“Wait for me.”

You shoot up in the bed and stumble out of your room through the sliding door that leads to the garden, sweat pouring down your neck and back as you sink to your knees. Your stomach heaves once, twice, depositing yellow bile into the bushes beside the house. The sun is barely up, and as you dry heave, you hear another door sliding open, Toji then Kaori tumbling out of your back door. 

“Poison,” Toji grunts, but Kaori pushes him aside before he can get to you. 

“No, she didn’t even eat anything before bed,” she states, rubbing your back with her cool hands. Your skin clams up as a breeze rolls across the garden, and you shudder violently before your teeth begin to chatter. “Toji, a blanket.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” he gripes, but walks into the house to grab a blanket anyways. When the cloth resta against your back, you feel a little better, but the feeling in your stomach won’t go away. 

“My Lady… talk to me. What’s the matter?” 

“Go,” you shake Kaori off, not wanting to repeat the events of your dream. 

“It’s probably because she didn’t eat,” Toji groans, the stairs squeaking under his weight. “I’ll get her a --” 

“Both of you. Go.” You look up at Toji, mustering your sternest look, and aiming the same expression at Kaori, who walks away from you, head hung low. 

You stay in the garden as true morning crests over the sky, lying on the bench under the bare cherry blossom tree while the skies turn into pinks and yellows, and reds. The image of Geto’s bloodied face wouldn’t depart from your memory and you feel the ache even deeper than before. The ache intensifies until it feels like all of you is just one large hole, throbbing with need and grief.

Nothing could save you. 

No one was coming back for you. 

They were all dead, and there was nothing left of the people you had grown to love and care for. 

It isn’t until your mother walks into the garden that you realize you might have missed your breakfast of an orange and water, but she comes bearing the fruit and you’re set back at ease. You wordlessly allow your mother to sit beside you, lifting your head so it rests in her lap snugly. She pats your hair gently, then inhales deeply, speaking in her normal soft tones. 

“Kaori told me you were sick last night,” she begins, and you nod as if she had asked a question and not stated a fact. “Ever since Geto Suguru died, you’ve been awfully sullen. One might think you had been with him the whole time and not at the Imperial Palace.” You glance up at your mother, and she winks at you. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell your father.” 

“How did you know?” you wonder, and she smiles, wrinkles forming at the edges of her mouth. 

“Well first, whoever the General gets to write his letters needs to brush up on their penmanship,” she laughs, then shrugs. “But it was your face the day that the General was announced dead that I saw you change. It only took me a few days to realize that you were in mourning, not upset that your prince hadn’t sent for you.” 

“Mother, I--” 

“You had every right to keep it a secret, although I wish you hadn’t. It would’ve made my interrogation of Toji much easier.” You imagine your own mother - all of five-foot-four, standing up to the massive Fushiguro with a finger to his chest - and you can’t help but chuckle. “Whatever the General did, I haven’t seen you glowing like you did when you returned since you were a little girl. I’ll have to find a way to thank him for that.” 

You choke out a deep sob, closing your eyes as you think of the lack of tribute, the lack of a funeral, the missing images of him that won’t return to your memory. 

“Though Toji takes good care of you. I haven’t seen that man slack off on his job once since after the announcement. He’s also been very helpful with your father. You know, he would ma--” 

“Lady y/n!” Kaori sprints out of the home, and you both look up to see her flustered expression, wondering what would have her so worked up this early in the morning. “There was a messenger from the Imperial Palace in the square!” she stops in front of you, panting heavily. “The Emperor… has fallen… ill.” When she catches her breath, the head maid can finally finish her statement, and she exhales deeply. “As is custom, his eldest son will be taking a tour of the country. And he’s named this village as his final stop, with your house as his resting place for the time he is here. He’ll be in the village in a fortnight.” You sit up, eyeing the maid carefully. 

Pieces of a puzzle begin to click together in your mind.

“His eldest son is Prince Naoya, correct?” 

“Yes, my lady.” As if sensing your premature plan, Kaori looks you dead in the eyes, daring you to do what she imagines you are already thinking of. 

“And you said a fortnight?” Your mother butts in, squinting her eyes.

“Yes.” 

“Fourteen days to prepare.” you whisper, lifting your head out of your mother’s lap and retreating to the house to find the eldest Fushiguro. Kaori enters behind you, grabbing your elbow before you can open his guest room door.

“What you’re thinking of is suicide,” she hisses, but you shrug. 

“What better way to rejoin Geto than to kill his murderer and then die myself?” you retort, but she slaps a hand over the gap between the wall and the door, blocking you from entering. 

“This isn’t what he would want,” Kaori pleads. “Please, think about what he said.”

“I cannot wait for a dead man, Kaori. Now, let me go.” You yank free from her grasp and enter the guest room, eyeing a lazy Toji lounging by the window. “I need your help.” 

He rolls his head around to look at you and raises a brow. “With what, my lady?” 

“I need to kill a prince in two weeks. Think you can help me with that?” 

“You mean treason?” Toji sits up, letting the book he held in his hands drop to his bed, and hums thoughtfully. “Killing a prince as revenge… putting the Imperial Court into chaos… yeah, I think I can help you with that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki @brownskinnedgirll @keelyshayee @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something​

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 7: Natural Born Killers

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would  have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training  centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from,  your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for  a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no  girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when  Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular,  highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have  bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4  champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a  living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick  is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that  Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially  when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer,  and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to  ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 9.5K

Warning: This chapter is very heavy with multiple deaths described in detail.

PLEASE AVOID READING IF YOU CONSIDER THIS CONTENT UPSETTING

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does  writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those  behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he  approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of  these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

You had remained with the girl’s body after her canon sounded. The momentary adrenaline rush from killing her attacker had faded and you were filled with despair at the sight of her lifeless eyes. It was strange how little guilt you were feeling, you had just killed someone – something you never thought you could actually do. Even though what he was about to do to the girl was disgusting, you were expecting to feel some sense of remorse over taking another life, but yet there was none. You remembered Hoseok’s vicious attack on seven from yesterday and shuddered, did you have more in common with him than you wanted to admit?

‘No.’ You shook your head, arguing with yourself. ‘He’s a monster, he took pleasure in his kill. I killed to protect someone else… But didn’t Hoseok kill to protect you?’

Disturbed by your conflicting emotions you hit your head against trunk of the tree, begging for the thoughts to leave your head. It was too much to try and process right now, especially with the girl’s body lying on the ground next to you. The impact on your skull and the rough bark grazing against your forehead provided a welcome distraction from your inner monologue.

For a moment, you thought that a whirring noise was coming from the ringing in your head, until you felt a blustering wind, along with surrounding leaves and twigs beginning to lift from the ground. Confused, you scrambled away from the girl and over to your bag. Shouldering the straps, you whipped your head around trying to see what the cause could possibly be, as the wind and whirring sound only grew stronger.

With nothing abnormal around you, you turned your gaze upwards to see an airship hovering just above the trees. A door along the bottom opened, and a large metal claw slowly began to lower through the leaves, knocking several branches out of the way. You stumbled backwards, not wanting to get in its way, and watched with sick fascination as the claw reached the boy. It hovered for a few seconds, getting its bearings, before the metallic arms began to retract. The gears whirred as they clasped around the body, some digging into the dirt below him, before they formed a tight grip with a sealed clunk. And then the claw was moving upwards, the thick cord retracting until it disappeared into the ship above.

It was such an odd sight, such an inhumane way to treat a dead child (‘the dead child you had just killed’). You just stood there staring, until the claw reappeared at the door, once again empty. You looked over to the girl’s body, regretfully knowing she would be taken next. But there was nothing you could do for her. You didn’t know if the airship could be giving away your location, or whether the other tributes would think to run in the opposite direction, but you didn’t want to stay and find out. Securing your bag, you turned your back and ran.

 *

 Two hours later it was difficult to see the sun through the leaves above, which made it hard to try and navigate. You were starting to run low on water and you had an idea to try and get to the edge of the pool behind the cornucopia, closer to the waterfall. Your idea was basically that people who wanted supplies would go to the cornucopia itself and those trying to run away would have gone in the opposite direction. If you could sneak along the edge of the forest, maybe you could reach the fall and stay hidden. Your plan had worked well, after finding where the edge of the forest neared the river, you had stayed hidden in the trees and made your way in the direction of the waterfall. When the cornucopia came into sight, you took a longer detour back inland through the trees, not wanting to risk coming into contact with any tributes who might be hiding so close to supplies.

You knew you were getting close when the sound of crashing water began to get louder, and more rocks started appearing in your path. A canon sounding very close by caused you to jump and momentarily forget your plan. Looking around you had to be at the cliff that would take you up towards the top of the fall. Remembering the careers from yesterday, you knew you definitely didn’t want to keep going in that direction. The noise of the canon seemed to have come from further inside the forest, close to where you had been walking through only moments ago. Climbing up the cliff wasn’t an option, and neither was staying in this part of the woods, so the waterfall remained your target. You let the noise of the water guide you and continued to made your way over – the surface becoming increasingly rockier the closer that you got.

The cornucopia came into view, in all of its temptation. It was across the other side of the rocks that you were traversing. It was less filled than yesterday; however, you could still spot an array of supplies scattered around. For the first time you felt your stomach rumble and you longed to run across and raid it for some of the fruit that you could see. But it was far too out in the open to be worth the risk. So, you continued towards the fall.

The closer you came, the more you were left in awe by the design of its structure. The rocks became harder to climb over, but you realized that they went behind the pounding curtain of water, into a cave. You were apprehensive. It was such a brilliant hiding spot, but being so close to the cornucopia you felt like another tribute had to have found it by now. However, someone could only have seen it if they had chosen to come closer to the fall, rather than the cornucopia, which wasn’t necessarily an expected move.

You didn’t want to take any chances, and pulled your knife out from your pocket, just to be extra careful. Doing your best to balance, and stay hidden between the large rocks, you slowly made your way closer to the water’s edge. Once there you crouched down, repeatedly checking behind your back to make sure no one was trying to sneak up on you, and filled up your container. Once full, you put the cap on and then began to try and scrub off the lingering traces of blood that were staining your hands.

It was as you were finishing up that you spotted a moving figure through a crack between the rocks, in the direction of the woods. You sprung to your feet and quickly hid behind the closest rock. Making sure to check behind your shoulder first (in case anyone was trying to sneak up on you whilst you were distracted), you peered out from behind the boulder to see your worst fear – Hoseok and Namjoon working together.

You spun back around, your back hitting the rock, as you pressed yourself against surface. They definitely hadn’t seen you yet as they were moving towards the cornucopia and neither of them had been looking over in your area. You recalled the canon from before and instantly knew it had to be their work. Your heart was racing and a tightness was beginning to seize across your chest making it harder to breathe. You wished you could somehow melt into the rock and hide inside until these games were over, but you knew it wasn’t a realistic option. Staying outside here would be far too risky with them so close by. The forest wasn’t safe as they would very likely see you if you tried to run back now. Your best option was the cave behind the fall, as it was surrounded with large rocks for cover, and neither of them seemed to know of its existence. The possibility of another tribute being inside no longer scared you when the two worst tributes in the arena were so close by.

Using the rocks as a shield, you scrambled the last remaining meters to the fall. Once safe behind the curtain of raging water you stood in awe of the size of the cave within. The boulders from outside seemed to morph into smoother steps that lead upwards and further inside the cliff structure. There was still no sign of any other life inside, but you kept a firm grip on your knife in case of any hidden attacks. The higher you climbed, the drier the rock below your boots became. With the waterfall keeping you hidden from the outside, you deliberately allowed your footsteps to echo throughout the cave in order to alert anyone inside. You weren’t here to fight.

When you reached the top of the rock steps you found a smooth plateau and the first sign of life. There was a makeshift camp of a few supplies – a sleeping bag, a pot, and flint – set up around the ashes of an extinguished fire. The coals still had a faint tinge of orange, so someone still had to be close by.

“Hello… Is anyone here?”

You called out, but were only met with the sound of your voice bouncing back off the walls.

The sleeping bag looked like it had some sort of shape underneath it, so you slowly walked over, wondering if anyone was still inside. You didn’t want to come off as threatening, but you also weren’t stupid enough to approach someone without a weapon, so you hid your knife behind your back.

“I’m [Y/N] from Four, I ran away from the careers. Two and Four are at the cornucopia now.”

The closer you moved towards the bag, the darker the cave became, but you could still faintly make out some sort of shape. You frowned, why wasn’t the person responding to you?

“Please, I’m just want to hide,” you lowered your voice as you reached the bag.

“I promise I don’t want to hurt you.”

You tapped at the bag with your foot but were met with a hard feeling beneath your toe.

Rocks?

 A trap

 Leaping away from the sleeping bag, you narrowly dodged the swing of a machete from a figure hiding in the shadows by less than an inch.

“But I want to hurt you”

The voice of your attacker was feminine, but you had no idea who the person is.

“Are you fucking crazy, I’m trying to offer you an alliance against the careers,” you swore as you shuffled backwards, trying to put some distance between yourself and your opponent.

“No thanks. I had one until your boyfriend killed him…” The girl continued to follow you, and as she steps further into the light, you recognize her from District 7

“…And I’d like to return the favor.”

She swung the machete again, and you narrowly ducked with a shriek, rolling towards the edge of the plateau. You just managed to catch yourself from rolling off the edge, but before you could get to your feet, Seven charged at you with another swing of her blade.

You brought your knife up to block it, which she clearly didn’t expect. She’s too stunned by the fact you stopped her attack to block your leg that kicked up and into her stomach. She hunched over and gasped, barely keeping her grip on her weapon after having the wind knocked out of her. You didn’t give her the opportunity to catch her breath. There was no time for guilt or doubt as you thrust your knife upwards. It sunk in between her ribs with a broken scream, causing her to finally release her grip on the machete. It clattered to the ground beside you as you pulled your knife out.

She was still alive, her hands pressing against the bleeding wound as she stood above you. The previous sight of your would-be-killer is gone, replaced by a scared girl who knows she’s going to die. You can’t exactly blame her for trying to kill you – after all your alliance tortured her district member – but there’s no point in feeling sorry for her now. The best you could do is give her a faster death than her partner. Getting to your feet, you stabbed her again, this time in the stomach. She made a strangled gurgle, coughing up blood as you ripped your knife back out. She moved to try and grab for the machete, but stumbled over her feet and instead slipped off the edge of the plateau.

You looked over the side with morbid curiosity, to see her body had landed amongst the rocky water at the bottom. The pool below is a violent mess of currents created from the waterfall and you watched as her body was quickly pulled under to the sound of a canon.

 *

 “I’m almost disappointed by how easy this has been,” Namjoon commented as he picked up a small sack of rice and tossed it into the water. Since disposing of Krystal, the duo hadn’t so much as seen a trace from another tribute on their way to the cornucopia. They had arrived with ease and quickly finished stocking both their backpacks with food items. It was when they discovered there would still be plenty left for other tributes that Hoseok had come up with the idea of throwing whatever they couldn’t take with them into the river.

“If only [Y/N] was that easy to find,” Hoseok muttered in response. Between tossing away any food he came across, he was also searching for more arrows.

“Nothing good is ever easy, she can’t hide forever.”

*boom* 

The noise of a canon stopped them both in their place, it had sounded very close by. Namjoon looked around in a circle to see if there was any sign of an airship, whilst Hoseok suspiciously eyed the waterfall. The canon had definitely come from that direction. It was too high to see their camp up the top, but in his mind the noise had sounded closer. For a few minutes there was an uneasy silence, until he spotted something in the water.

“Over there”

Hoseok tapped Namjoon on the arm and pointed towards a figure that was emerging from the raging waters. Forgetting about throwing away food, the two moved towards the edge of the cornucopia’s rock to try and see the body. The water near the fall was a violent mess of waves, before it smoothed out into an eerily placid pool by the cornucopia rock’s edge. They watched as the body was tossed around, pulled underneath the currents, until it eventually drifted further way from the fall and resurfaced closer in their direction.

“It’s a girl,” Namjoon commented as they watched the body float closer.

It was difficult to see any details, but they could both tell the body was too big to be one of the younger tributes. There were no male tributes with hair long enough to tie into a ponytail, which gave away the fact it was a girl. With Athena having short hair, Krystal being killed earlier, and four known female tributes having died yesterday, they both mentally ran through which older females were still left in the games.

“You don’t think it could be…”

“No.”

They were both thinking the same thing, but there was no way Hoseok would allow Namjoon to say your name out loud.

It wasn’t you; it couldn’t be you. There was no way that you could have been taken from Hoseok without him feeling it inside. You were tied together and the second you left this world he would be able to feel it like a tether had snapped, right? He had no idea what he would do if you died before he was able to reach you in these games. It was a given that he would kill whoever was responsible in the most excruciating manner possible, but afterwards? Probably a rage induced rampage until he was the only person left, before killing himself. If you weren’t together with him at the end, then no one could win.

Hoseok followed the body along the rock as it drifted, until it was close enough for him to be able to reach. He could hear the sound of an approaching airship, but he had to see who it was with his own eyes first. Leaning over, he grabbed the body by its jacket and pulled it close enough for him to flip over. His sigh of relief upon seeing some insignificant nobody was audible.

“Not her,” he called to Namjoon, who had followed behind him.

“Stab wounds…” Namjoon acknowledged, nodding at the two bleeding cuts in the body. A solid incision between the ribs and a deeper wound in the stomach.

“From someone who knows how to handle a knife…"

Hoseok’s words trailed off at the end as he recalled your training in the arena. Particularly, your skill with throwing knives. The boys looked at each other, both knowing what the other was thinking. You were very close by. Looking at the waterfall where the body had appeared, there was nothing to suggest that you were around. If it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to stay away from him, Hoseok would have been proud that his girl was so good at keeping herself hidden.

“Look over there”

Hoseok’s head snapped over to the direction Namjoon was pointing at, but couldn’t see anything.

“What am I looking for?”

“The rocks. I didn’t notice before, but look how they trail behind the waterfall. I think there’s something back there… more importantly, someone.”

In an instant Hoseok was at his feet, the body below him forgotten about entirely. His bow and quiver of arrows were already on his shoulder.

“Leave the supplies here, we can come back for them when we have YN,” Hoseok instructed as he walked over to pick up some rope from the cornucopia. He doesn’t want to have to restrain you, but given you ran away it’s not like you’ve left him much choice.

Eying the rope in Hoseok’s hands and the knife in his own, a dangerous smile flashed across Namjoon’s face.

“Let’s go get our girl.”

 *

 The guilt you were wondering why you didn’t feel earlier, seemed to crash down upon you all at once. With a horrified gasp you, were hyperventilating over the reality you had now killed two people in one day. You didn’t want to, you didn’t mean to, you knew that you had to otherwise it would have been you that was dead. But it didn’t make the reality any less awful. You wondered what your father would be thinking if he was watching. He had been the one to train you with a knife in case that your name was ever called, but could he handle the reality of actually seeing you kill other kids? What about your mother? She was already dead, what if she was waiting for you to join her in peace, but you were sending other children to her instead?

You felt sick, but there wasn’t any food in your system to throw up. Instead, all you could do was dry reach and cough as you backed away from the ledge of the plateau. Maybe you should throw yourself over into the rocks to drown. You didn’t deserve to live as a killer. But then wouldn’t that make those deaths meaningless? And as selfish as it sounded, you didn’t want to die a painful death. You were scared. Scared to die, scared to suffer, scared to survive and have to live with yourself if you made it.

You crawled backwards until you felt your hand touch something soft. You flinched in surprise, looking down to see the sleeping bag from seven’s camp. It felt wrong to even consider, but you couldn’t help but think it would be a nice spot to hide out for a while. There was shelter and more importantly, warmth. You weren't exactly in the mood to return to the woods again and have to climb another tree. You shrugged your backpack off your shoulders and tried to distract your racing thoughts with the task of pulling the rocks out of the sleeping bag that seven had stuffed inside.

As you worked, you could hear the sound of rocks crunching. At first you thought it was just the sounds of the ones inside the bag as you moved them, but then you paused, and you could still hear the noise. It was hard to hear anything over the sound of the waterfall, but you had a bad feeling. You fumbled for your backpack and began to slide further backwards into the darkness of the cave.

“[Y/N]”

You feel as if your blood has turned to ice at the sound of Hoseok calling your name. How the hell could he possibly know that you were here?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…

You shuffled backwards until you hit a rock. You couldn’t see anything in the darkness around you, and you could only pray that darkness would keep you hidden from him. You curled your knees into your chest and tried to shrink yourself as small as possible, clutching onto your knife, which would be your only hope of escape if he found you up here.

“Son of a bitch!”

You flinched at the sound of Namjoon’s cursing, and felt yourself panicking. Hoseok on his own was bad enough but Namjoon with him was too much. You doubted you could take one of them in a fight, but you knew that both of them would be impossible. You didn’t know what Hoseok’s plans with you were, but you swore you would rather die on your own than find out. You might not be able to fight them both, but you still had your knife, maybe you could take yourself out on your own terms.

“What?” Hoseok barked, his voice getting closer as he began to climb the rock steps.

“Some little shit is stealing our bag.”

That caused him to pause. Whilst the careers did have some basic supplies back at their camp, because they had thrown away a lot of the other food at the cornucopia, they needed those bags.

“Go stop the prick then, I’ll meet you out there with [Y/N].”

Namjoon nodded with a pissed off frown, turning around and heading back out of the fall the same way that he came. He hated when his plans were interrupted and he was going to make whatever moron thought they could steal from him pay.

You had no idea what bags they were talking about, but felt a sliver a of relief over Namjoon leaving. At least you had a fighting chance now if Hoseok found you. You could hear the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps coming closer, as he continued to climb.

“[Y/N]~” Hoseok’s voice echoed throughout the cave as he sung out your name in a sickeningly sweet call.

“Why are you hiding from me, angel? You should know that I would never hurt you.”

His steps continued to get closer and you clasped one hand over your nose and mouth to try and muffle the sound of your breathing. You tried to breathe as slowly and quietly as humanly possible.

“If it’s over how I tortured that boy from seven, I only did that because he tried to hurt you. But if you want, I’ll make all my other kills quick and painless. I’d do anything for you.”

The sound of his footsteps reaching the plateau kept you paralyzed in fear. He was here, there was no escape anymore. You clenched your eyes shut and prayed that the darkness could keep you covered.

Hoseok’s brows furrowed as he reached the top level and saw the abandoned camp. There were visible signs of a struggle from the earlier fight, but he couldn’t see anything else. The sleeping bag was barely visible in the darkness, but he could vaguely tell there were rocks nearby and some still inside of the bag. So that dead girl had tried to set a trap, but you were too clever. Again, he felt a combination of pride and frustration. If only you weren’t so afraid of him, you would be unstoppable together.

If his vision was to go by, you weren’t here. There weren’t any rocks to hide behind and it was possible you could have run in the opposite direction than where Namjoon and himself had approached from. But why did you feel so close? He narrowed his eyes and tried to squint further into the darkness, how deep did that cave go? Could you possibly be hiding in plain sight?

He pursed his lips, preparing to walk closer before the sound of a canon stopped him in his tracks.

 *

 Yoongi was in a bad mood.

After his argument with Krystal, he had been left alone to fish up the stream, but he had a lingering sense of unease. Why didn’t she understand that he was only looking out for her best interest? He didn’t sign up for these games to protect her just to watch her get killed for some stranger. It’s not that he hated you, or wanted you to die. He felt sorry for you and the way that Hoseok had singled you out, but it was better you than Krystal.

His luck with fishing had been mediocre. He had been apprehensive to use their food supplies for bait in case there weren’t actually any fish in the river. On the plus side it turned out there were indeed fish, but on the negative, the ones he had managed to catch were tiny. He lost track of how long he had been fishing for, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face after such a freezing night, when he was snapped out of his peace by the sound of a canon.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his instincts into words, it didn’t make any logical sense, but he had a very, very bad feeling. It was like a part of him had collapsed inside of his chest.

‘Where’s Krystal?’

Surely, she would be back at camp, just like she was supposed to be?

He tried to shake off the feeling, canons were a normal part of the games, if Krystal was smart then she would still be with Athena. On her own Krystal was a formidable opponent, and Athena was a powerhouse. The only real threat that could take those two were the other careers, but they were all back down the cliff. She should be fine… so why didn’t it feel like she was?

With a huff, Yoongi wheeled in his wire and tossed the coil into the bucket. He would try fishing again later, using the smaller fish as bait. But first he had to go and find Krystal to put his mind at ease. He dipped the bucket into the river to fill it up with a little water, in order to keep the bait fresh in the meantime, then began his walk back to the campsite.

When he rounded the corner of the river that led to the waterfall, he felt his stomach drop upon seeing Athena alone at the campsite.

“Athena! Where’s Krystal” He yelled.

Her head jerked up from picking through a pile of different sticks, organizing them into different firewood. She seemed surprised, but Yoongi just thought that was from how loudly he had yelled at her.

“YOONGI, LOOK OUT!” Athena screamed back at him.

‘Look out for what? We need to look for Krystal?’

But his confused thought was interrupt by a searing pain running through his thigh. Gasping in agony, he was in so much pain he couldn’t even scream. Looking down he saw the long blade of a machete protruding out of his leg. Before Yoongi could even react, he was struck across the back of the head, whilst someone else landed a kick to his speared leg. Disorientated from the pain, the two attackers were easily able to manhandle him face down into the river.

Athena leapt up to help, but was met with a rope being wrapped around her neck from behind. The pressure instantly cut off her air, causing her to choke as she desperately clawed for the rope. But whoever had attacked her had miscalculated their strength. Once she was able to get a grip on the rope around her neck, Athena didn’t waste time trying to pull it away. Instead, she used her hold for leverage and rolled her body forward, causing the girl behind her to come flying over her shoulder.

Laying sprawled out on her back District 8 realized she had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late for her. Athena snatched a nearby spear from the weapons pile and drove it straight down into the girl’s stomach. After ripping the point out, Athena kicked her sharply in the side, sending her rolling into the rushing waters. Whether it was from the stab wound, drowning, or falling onto the rocks below, all Athena cared about was the sound of the canon that followed.

Spear in hand, she raced up the bank to save Yoongi.

One down, two to go.

 *

 Hoseok was quick to dismiss the sound of the canon as Namjoon taking care of the boy trying to steal from them, but his head turning towards the direction he thought the sound came from caused him to see a falling silhouette through the waterfall.

“What the fuck?”

He didn’t care for his allies atop the waterfall, but the odds for his plans in the games were better if they could stay alive until the outlier tributes were taken care of. He cast a quick scan around the cave for any sign that you were there, but seeing nothing he huffed and started climbing back down.

You couldn’t believe your luck.

After everything that had gone wrong so far in the arena, the moment you were seconds away from being found by your worst nightmare, something managed to distract him.

You should have felt guilty that the distraction came in the form of another person dying, but you were to high strung to properly register that. Listening to the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps, you waited until he was at the bottom of the steps before slowly moving forwards. Not wanting to risk being seen or heard, you slowly crawled your way to the edge to see Hoseok disappearing back out the side of the waterfall that he had come in from.

There was no way you were going to remain in the same place and risk being caught if he came back. Making sure your backpack was still secure, you climbed your way back down the same steps. But when you reached the bottom, you hurried along the rocks under the fall in the opposite direction that Hoseok had left.

 *

 Namjoon and the boy from 10 on the cornucopia had been trapped in a stalemate ever since Namjoon had returned from the waterfall. The boy had been distracted with filling up a bag as quickly as possible that he initially didn’t notice Namjoon sneaking up on him, but a movement in his peripheral version alerted him to the career’s presence. His head snapped up, as he saw him coming back to the cornucopia. Namjoon held the boy’s eyes with a dangerous stare that screamed one thing; ‘you’re dead, kid’.

There were barely any supplies left, the rock was sparse and the last remaining good items were now in the bag slung over his shoulder. Clearly Namjoon had to want what was in the bag if he was coming back for it.

“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll drop it!”

The break in his voice severely reduced the impact of his words, but the boy dangled the bag over the side of the water to show that he was serious.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, clearly not taking the threat seriously as he continued to walk, forwards, only to stop when the boy released the bag entirely. The boy caught the bag by the handle, but held it back up over the side of the edge once more.

‘So, he’s quick,’ Namjoon internally assessed as he held up his hands in a mock surrender.

“You have something of mine that I want back,” Namjoon nodded to the bag.

“If it was yours you would have taken it with you,” the kid snapped back.

“Everything in this arena is mine, including your life. Drop the bag on the rock and your death won’t be a painful one,” Namjoon threatened as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to showcase his muscular triceps that were probably three times the width of the scrawny teenage boy’s.

“Come any closer and your bag will be thrown to the bottom of your river”

Namjoon longed to rush the boy and slam his head against the rock to teach him some respect, but the bag of supplies kept him rooted to the spot. Meanwhile the boy was tossing up his options. The boy from 10 knew that he was fast, but the weight of the bag would slow him down, and it was possible Namjoon could catch him. But if he dropped the bag his odds of outrunning him into the forest were much higher. But the boy wanted the bag just as much as the careers did. He hadn’t eaten since the start of the games. He had scarfed down a protein bar whilst cramming supplies into the bag, but he didn’t think he was going to last long in the forest without anything.

And so, the two stood eyeing each other down, neither willing to cut the loss of the bag, not even a body flying over the edge of the waterfall to the sound of a canon could distract them. However, Namjoon could still see Hoseok resurfacing out the side of the fall.

Hoseok could be brash but he wasn’t an idiot. Seeing the boy holding the bag over the water and Namjoon with his hands up, he could tell that there was some sort of bargain happening. With the boy’s arm over the water, it wasn’t like he could just shoot him with an arrow, without the bag falling in. Being within Namjoon’s line of sight, and with the boy having his back to him, Hoseok sent Namjoon a signal to let him know he would approach quietly.

Keeping his hands raised, Namjoon began to walk around the boy. He maintained the same distance, moving clockwise around the rock with lazy steps.

“You’re not getting off this rock with that bag,” he taunted as he walked, deliberately keeping the boy’s attention away from Hoseok, who was moving closer towards their direction.

“As a matter of fact, you won’t be getting off this rock alive at all”

“Then there wouldn’t be much sense in me keeping a hold of this bag then,” ten sneered.

“The second you drop the bag, is the second you die and you know it,” Namjoon replied coolly as he continued to pace.

“Not unless I make a trade”

Namjoon barked out a laugh.

“For you to make a trade you would need to have something I want. The only thing I want is that bag.”

“Oh really?” Ten asked with a knowing grin starting to crawl across his face.

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the audacity of the kid to think he could possibly strike a bargain, but he had to admit it was somewhat amusing.

“And what else could you possibly have?”

“I saw you and two earlier, I know you’re looking for your district partner. I also saw where she went”

There was a hint of glee in ten’s voice, like he was aware of a hilarious inside joke and Namjoon didn’t like it one bit.

“Bullshit,” he called.

At this reaction, ten outright giggled.

“I know you were tracking her, and that you killed that other career. But I also saw where she was going, and you were both so close.”

“And what makes you think that I believe you?”

Whether Namjoon believed him or not, having the boy keep talking was an excellent way to stall for time as Hoseok continued to get closer. With Namjoon now on the other side of the rock, it was only a matter of time before they had the kid trapped between them.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?”

Namjoon let out an exasperated sigh.

“No shit, we’ve all seen her at training and the interviews. Hardly proves you saw her today.”

Ten fumbled the bag slightly, his arm starting to burn with lactic acid from holding it over the water for so long. Bringing it down to the ground, he placed a foot on top, easily able to kick it into the river if he wanted. It was in the process of doing this that he caught sight of Hoseok approaching from his peripheral vision.

“Tell him to stop right now, or I kick the bag,” he immediately threatened.

“Hoseok!” Namjoon yelled, before making a cutting gesture across his throat, to get him to pause.

Hoseok reluctantly listened, coming to a stop just slightly further away from the boy than where Namjoon was on the other side of the cornucopia.

“So now what? I drop the bag and I die, or I give you the bag and I die” Ten deadpanned as he looked between the careers on either side of him, not exactly liking his options.

“Sounds about right to me,” Hoseok grinned, sliding the bow off his shoulder and preparing to load an arrow from his quiver.

“If you shoot me now then I can’t tell you where your girl is.”

Hoseok paused his hand right as it touched upon an arrow.

“Where is she,” he demanded.

Namjoon mentally slammed his palm against his forehead, of course Hoseok would be too blinded by his obsession with you, and buy into this bargain.

“I’m not just going to tell you so you can kill me. Look I can see there’s no situation here where I leave alive with the bag, so I’ll drop it. Here,” Ten paused to toss the bag a few feet in front of himself.

“Walk towards me and let me walk past you” Ten gestured towards Hoseok “and I’ll tell you where she is.”

Hoseok nodded curtly whilst Namjoon just rolled his eyes. He thought Hoseok was a lovesick fool, but was satisfied with the fact they at least had the bag back again.

The walk across the rocks began, ten deliberately tried to walk in a path that would create a gap in width between his body and Hoseok’s when they met. Hoseok read this and navigated himself in a way to lessen that distance, in case Ten tried to run without giving him the information that he wanted.

Meanwhile Namjoon walked towards the direction of the bag to retrieve it, but spotted something from the corner of his eye. There was some sort of shape in the rocks near the waterfall. He knew he should probably be paying attention in case Ten thought it was a good idea to jump his teammate, but Hoseok was strong enough to take care of himself, and this weird shape was bothering him. It was hard to see over the mist that sprayed up from the crashing impact, and when he squinted his eyes to look, it was like it was never there at all. For a moment he dismissed it as a bird until it moved again. A blur ducking up and then disappearing behind the closest rock. And then suddenly it clicked – why Ten had been laughing when talking about how close they apparently were to you before. The boy had seen you…

“HOSEOK!” He bellowed right before the two boys were about to pass each other “SHE WAS INSIDE THE CAVE. SHE’S MAKING A BREAK OUT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FALL”

 *

 Whatever luck you had acquired for Hoseok to leave inside the cave, seemed to have vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. You couldn’t hear the words that Namjoon had yelled over the rumbling noise of water crashing nearby, but you could see him pointing in your direction.

For a split second you all froze. You were caught like a deer in headlights, Namjoon was pointing at you, Hoseok looked livid and the boy from ten was scared to death. There was barely any distance between Ten and Hoseok. They were less than six feet apart, with Hoseok blocking the way to the forest, and Ten had just lost his only bargaining chip seconds away from managing to escape. With no weapon on his body, and no way to get around the armed career in front of him, he made a split-second decision to turn back around. If he was going to die, then he wasn’t going to let those careers get that bag, He’d kick it into the river if it was the last thing he did.

Immediately, chaos erupted.

You took off into a sprint across the rocks. You no longer had to worry about remaining hidden and put all your focus on speed. There was no point in prioritizing your safety on the dangerous surface either – it was either get away, or die. You’d risk slipping and breaking your neck than winding up caught between Hoseok and Namjoon any day. Using every ounce of instinct built from years living on the coast, climbing your boat, and scaling rocks near the sea, you made a break for the forest.

Being the closest, Namjoon would have pursued you, if wasn’t for ten turning around. Reading his move for the bag Namjoon had to race him for it, which was in the opposite direction that you were running. Hoseok and ten were both the same speed, so it was down to him being closer to save their supplies.

“No! Get her! GET HER!” Hoseok yelled to Namjoon as he watched you slipping through his fingers, whilst you ran closer to the forest’s edge.

But Namjoon ignored the demand, leaping onto the bag just seconds before Ten’s foot could make contact with a kick. Instead, Namjoon took the hit to his side and rolled, causing ten to go flying over the top of him.

Ten landed with a sickening crunch. He had thrown his arms out to break the fall, only to break his wrist on impact with the rock. Despite the agony, he used the momentum to keep rolling and fell off the side, into the water below. Namjoon sat up with a grunt, with his water experience, swimming the boy down wouldn’t be a problem, except Hoseok was about to beat him to it.

With his bow loaded, Hoseok shot an arrow straight into the shoulder of ten. The boy let out a muffled scream as he fell underneath the surface, no longer able to swim. With ten no longer a threat, Hoseok looked up to try and find where you were, to see you were right at the border between the rocks and the forest edge.

You had made it to the trees and stopped to look behind to see if you were being chased, when you witnessed Hoseok shoot the boy from ten. You thought that would be it, that he would be left to drown now that he could no longer swim, or that Hoseok would fire a second arrow to be certain. Instead, you found yourself rooted to the spot as Namjoon reached into the water and pulled ten back up to the surface by the arrow stuck inside of his body. As Namjoon continued to drag a screaming ten out of the water, and back up onto the cornucopia rock, Hoseok stood at his side, pointedly staring at you.

Your eyes were locked onto his, trying to read what he was going to do next. You leaned against the closest tree as you tried to suck in deep breaths. Your lungs burned from sprinting over the rocks, but you had to be ready to run again into the forest at any moment. In return Hoseok was eerily still. He watched the rise and fall of your chest with every breath you took, studied the flush of red across your cheeks and beads of sweat trickling from your forehead, and thought of the ways in which he would love to elicit such a response from your body. He ached to run and take you into his arms so he could feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, but knew that you would disappear into the forest the second he tried to. So, instead he chose to drag those seconds out as long as possible, just watching you breathe from a distance to find comfort in knowing you were still alive.

  *

 The sound of the canon had distracted the two boys that were holding Yoongi under the water. Turning their heads over towards the sound they were hoping to see Athena dead and the other girl from eight returning to help them take care of the last person at camp, but were met with the sight of an enraged Athena running in their direction.

“Shit! What the fuck do we do?” The boy from district 8 hissed, as he maintained his pressure on Yoongi’s neck to keep him face down under the water.

“How the fuck should I know?” the boy from district 9 snapped back, “You’re the genius who said your partner could take care of her”

“I thought she could! How hard is it to sneak up and kill someone from behind?”

“Too hard apparently”

“WATCH OUT!”

The two boys’ bickering was cut short by eight shoving nine to the side and narrowly avoiding the spear that Athena had thrown.

“That was clos-”

Eight’s sigh of relief was cut short by a second spear landing in his throat.

Nine released a horrified scream at the gruesome vision. The canon hadn’t sounded yet as eight was barely clinging to life, choking out gargled breaths as blood spilled profusely down his neck and into the water below. Nine was so preoccupied by the sight that he didn’t even notice that Yoongi had surfaced from the water. With an agonized grunt, Yoongi pulled the blade of the machete out of his leg and swung it straight into the kid’s head.

Two canons sounded one after the other as the boys died simultaneously.

With the surge of adrenaline fading as quickly as it had appeared, Yoongi collapsed on the shore, vomiting up the water he had been forced to swallow whilst being held under. His injured leg was throbbing, he had a splitting headache and his chest felt like someone had been sitting on it. He was barely conscious when Athena caught up to him and dragged him further out of the water, to make sure he didn’t get caught in the stream and sent over the waterfall.

Pulling her button up shirt from her body (leaving just a tank top underneath), Athena set to work on creating a makeshift tourniquet by tying the sleeves tightly above the wound.

“You know, I could easily just kill you now,” Athena mused.

Yoongi’s response was a laugh in the form of a sharp huff. It was true, he was defenseless. The machete had been lodged into nine’s skull and taken away with his body. He now had no weapon and a major injury in his leg, whilst Athena was a skilled hand to hand combat fighter. She could also easily run back to the weapons at their camp before he could even struggle to his feet.

“So why don’t you?” he grunted, closing his eyes and letting his head fall onto the ground below.

Yoongi knew his shot at the games was practically over with such a severe injury. His bad feeling over Krystal was only made worse by the surprise attack from the three tributes. What if they had killed her when she went off to have a bathroom break earlier? She hadn’t been seen in hours and there were far too many canons that had sounded today. If Krystal was dead then there was no purpose for him to be here anymore, though he hoped to at least wait to see the tribute display in the evening and confirm Krystal was gone before entirely giving up.

“Hoseok and Namjoon,” Athena sighed in response.

Though his eyes were closed, Yoongi raised an eyebrow, indicating for her to elaborate.

“What do you think those two would think if they came back and saw you dead in camp and your sister missing too? They’d probably act like I did it and kill me on the spot for betraying the alliance.”

“That sucks,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Yeah, it does,” Athena laughed. Nothing about the situation was actually funny, but it was such a surreal experience it was all she could do.

“But you know what else sucks?” She continued, earning a questioning grunt from Yoongi.

“That this wouldn’t have even happened if Hoseok and Namjoon didn’t go off on their stupid search for YN. The weird obsession with her, it’s literally insane.”

“I don’t get it either,” Yoongi sighed.

“I’m sick of it. They left us here to die, maybe Krystal already has…”

Yoongi flinched.

“Sorry. But for what? A stupid crush they’re going to have to kill in the end anyway. I didn’t get my name pulled out of that bowl just so I could die as a side character in some weird love story.”

“So, what are you going to do about it? Jump them when they come back to camp?”

Athena scoffed at the suggestion.

“Tempting but I think we both know they’re stronger than I am. I might take down one of them with me but I couldn’t get both. And it’s not like you’d be much help there either.”

“I offer you my complete moral support” Yoongi deadpanned.

Athena barked out another laugh.

“I’ve got nothing,” she sighed. “Maybe we have that in common, and maybe we should at least watch each other’s backs.”

Yoongi opened his eyes and looked up to see Athena staring down at him.

The pain of potentially losing Krystal was still too raw for him to properly process, especially without any closure of knowing that it had really happened (though every instinct in his gut told him she was gone). But he had been so focused on his goal of protecting his sister he hadn’t given much thought to any of his other teammates.

Athena looked tough and intimidating, she scored high in trials and interviewed well. By all standards she was just another typical career, but the reality was she was also human. Yet another sacrifice to the capitol, just like his sister and just like himself. With Krystal, he had someone he loved with him, but Athena had no one. Her closest thing to a partner, in her district mate, had abandoned her for a prettier girl like a child distracted by a shinier new toy. If they were both doomed to die here, then the least he could do was make sure she wasn’t entirely alone.

“Yeah, I think we should”.

 *

 The sound of two back-to-back canons cut short whatever moment you were having with Hoseok. It was a slap across the face reminder that this was a game to kill until the last person standing, and the man standing across the rocks from you would ultimately have to try and kill you, no matter what sweet promises he made.

“YN wait, please!” you heard him beg as you broke eye contact, but you didn’t look back again as you turned and vanished into the forest.

“FUCK!” Hoseok screamed in frustration, launching a kick into the ten’s shoulder, the same one he had shot the arrow into. If he couldn’t have you now then he was going to make the little shit who ruined his plans pay.

Namjoon took a step back, and picked up the bag of supplies. He then walked over to a nearby rock and set the bag down in front of him, perfectly secured between his legs. Unzipping the top, he reached inside and dug out an apple, biting in as Hoseok ripped the arrow completely out of ten’s shoulder. Namjoon watched nonchalantly as Hoseok reloaded the arrow and shot it into ten’s other shoulder, the younger boy writhing in agony below.

The torture continued as Namjoon ate his snack. Hoseok would pull the arrow out of ten’s body by twisting it painfully, before reloading and shooting it again into another non-lethal area. His arms and legs were more like a bloody human pin cushion by the time Namjoon had finished a second apple and decided he was bored.

“We should get back to camp,” he declared, shouldering the bag.

Hoseok turned his attention to Namjoon with a raised brow.

“Those two canons earlier, and the one before that, we should check on Athena and Yoongi.”

Hoseok opened his mouth to argue before Namjoon cut him off.

“I don’t care about them either, however it would benefit us to know if they are still alive and who attacked them if they’re not. If there are other tributes working together, we need to take care of them before they go after YN next.”

Hoseok rolled his neck to stare up at the sky with an exhausted sigh. He knew Namjoon was right, and self-indulgent torture sessions weren’t going to get you back.

“Good,” Namjoon confirmed with a smile, before leaning down and snapping ten’s neck with his bare hands.

 Another canon.

 *

 It took slightly longer than an hour for Namjoon and Hoseok to climb the cliff and return to the campsite, where they were met with the sight of Athena wrapping a bandage around Yoongi’s thigh. The duo was informed the first aid kit was a gift from a sponsor and that the Yoongi and Athena were ambushed by three tributes, all now dead. When Yoongi asked if they had seen Krystal, Namjoon denied anything and asked if they heard any canons before they were attacked. Athena confirmed there had been, and Yoongi had broken down crying.

Hoseok left the other boy to grieve, knowing his sister was dead long before the nightly display confirmed it. Laying down in the tent, he longed to run into the forest and find you right at this second. However, he knew he needed to rest, and that tomorrow when he left camp, there was no way he would return without you. For now, he settled on mentally calculating how many people had to be left in the games. Krystal was gone leaving only himself, Namjoon, Athena and an injured Yoongi in the careers, and of course, there was still you. Eight tributes had died on opening day, two had died over the night, there were two earlier canons that morning, and with the short-lived alliance of three, the person you had killed, and the boy from ten, then that only left one other tribute who was still alive…

  *

 You sat high up in a tree, tied to a branch, as you heard the Panem music blast throughout the arena. Shivering under your blanket, you listened as the game maker praised the blood bath of the day, and commented that you were on track for the fastest games in history. When Krystal’s face appeared in the sky as the first tribute, you lost it. You bundled the top of the blanket into a ball and openly sobbed into the fabric, mourning the loss of the only person in the arena who you would have called a friend. You cried far longer than it took for the capitol to display all of the people who had died, and so you honestly had no idea who was left, or exactly how many people there even were now.

You knew Hoseok and Namjoon were still alive as only one more canon had sounded after you ran into the forest, and there was no doubt in your mind it was for the boy that had been shot with the arrow. You felt physically sick from crying; your sinuses were clogged and you had a nasty headache. You were also dizzy from not eating anything in hours and downright drained from how physically and emotionally taxing everything was. You had zero plan for survival in the arena, and no idea what you were going to do the next time Hoseok came close to finding you. In your exhausted state, you decided that would have to be a problem for tomorrow. Letting your head fall back against the trunk, you closed your eyes and quickly succumbed to your body’s need for rest.

Little did you know that someone very close by had been tracking you since earlier that afternoon, and was waiting for this exact moment.

  Note: Ten’s idea was to grab the bag and run, he didn’t stop to search what was inside, and obviously regretted the fact he didn’t check for a weapon when he had the chance

So close to 10K but I didn’t want to fill it with garbage for the sake of trying to boost the word count, so 9.5 it is.

[norcumii]

for the ask meme: Rex/Obi or pairing/characters of choice - Werewolf/vampire AU / Sick/injured / Stranded Due to Inclement Weather / Huddling for warmth

For this trope mashup meme.

This was CLEARLY influenced by seananmcguire's Newsflesh series, which was the last zombie related media I interacted with, and I regret NOTHING.

(Meanwhile, much worldbuilding was done by Dogmatix, who I was foolish enough to let near the plunnies again ^_^)

*****

The problem with zombies, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but muse, was that they stopped thinking. Oh, there was some low-level intelligence left in there, but it was mostly focused on consuming the living. Not tactics, for the most part, not unless the bastards were very fresh or in large enough groups, but that also meant that when some brilliant asshole declared “oh, the zombies wouldn’t/couldn’t ever do that,” no one consulted the zombies.

Thus, an early morning patrol in an area that “never saw more than one or two zombies” turned into a clusterfuck retreat. Though ‘patrol’ was rather a gross overstatement for just the two of them taking an idle walk because some days, Rex was too jittery for sleep and too damn self-sacrificing to admit that he missed early morning runs.

There was always enough fog coming in from the river that they should have been fine.

There also shouldn’t have been an entire pack of at least a dozen, dozen and a half zombies in the area. Where the fuckers had even come from was an unpleasant mystery.

“Rex?” Obi-Wan murmured into the man’s ear. “Are you with me?” he asked as if he couldn’t make out the glacially slow beat of his heart.

Rex groaned, head lolling to nestle further in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. He mumbled something that was probably a curse, which left Obi-Wan in the unenviable position of having to close his eyes and take his own steadying breath. Yes, on the one hand he did have an unfairly attractive boyfriend draped across his lap, straddling his hips and feeling like he was several seconds away from some serious necking.

On the other, they were also treed a good thirty feet above a pack of damned zombies, which had already tried seriously munching on Rex, and ‘necking’ could have serious consequences when one of them was an actual vampire.

Speaking of. Obi-Wan shifted in the cautious little jig in an attempt to nudge Rex more to the left. If he could just free up his arm enough, then he could move around while not tossing them off the tree stand or dislodging the thick emergency poncho that was the only thing keeping Rex from turning into a charred crisp. It was not sized for two, but there hadn’t been time to be more careful and drape it over just Rex instead of just plonking it down over the two of them.

“If you refuse to leave base again without your entire damned armor because of this, I’m going to be very put out,” Obi-Wan informed him, getting another incoherent unhappy noise. The armor was good at keeping the soldiers bite free – not that they needed to worry about the zombification business, but it still hurt them and fed the damn undead. It was also effective at keeping the soldiers touch starved and isolated in ways Obi-Wan had difficulty standing.

Another careful shift, and he could just barely dig out one of the small, squishy packs he kept in his jacket for emergencies.

Since his luck was shit, as soon as he pulled it free, the bastard caught on a loose thread, and with his claws he didn’t dare grab too hard for it, and down it tumbled. One of the zombies lunged, snapping at it, and blood exploded all across the remains of the bastard’s face.

Not being too intelligent, the rest of the pack turned on it immediately. Obi-Wan tried to tune out the disgusting carnage, being much more careful on his second attempt. He didn’t have many packets to spare. This one, he managed to juggle up in front of Rex’s face, jostling it a little. “Here. Drink,” he ordered, hoping that would be sufficient. He hated trying to insert the little sippy straws – Anakin had loved juice pouches back as a child, and they’d had similar fiendish straws. Anakin had learned how to insert the little bastards without a problem, but he always asked Obi-Wan to do it for him – because Obi-Wan had never quite managed to master the process, and Anakin was a damned brat.

Bad enough when it was juice.

One way or another, Rex was conscious enough to shift and bite down on the plastic packet. It was always a wonder to watch the soldiers’ regenerative powers at work. As the level of mostly artificial plasma lowered, color drained back into Rex’s face, the nasty burns along truly unfair cheekbones fading as muscle and skin reknit. He could smell the distressing blood-and-raw-meat stench fading, and only then did he start to relax.

When things had started to go to hell around the globe, the powers that be had huddled together around their failing infrastructure and went looking for fantastical solutions to unnatural problems. Obi-Wan could only imagine the levels of exhaustion and terror that had led someone to the conclusion that vampires might be immune to the infections that spread the zombie virus. The sheer potential of that going horribly wrong was at least one movie franchise long, if not several, yet somehow they’d dedicated enough science to make artificial vampires. Oh, technically it wasn’t vampirism, but ‘drank blood, super fast and strong, sunburn to death within minutes, resting vitals dropping down far enough to pass as dead’ was close enough for everyone but petty bureaucrats and pedantic assholes.

Even at the time, Obi-Wan had cynically noted how that meant both a short leash, and a strong vested interest in keeping as many people from going zombie as possible. He’d also noted the infuriating demographics of those who were selected for and survived the process of becoming vampires.

He tried not to think on that much nowadays, because the heightened blood pressure and carnage bothered Rex.

The packet slurped dry in a way that always raised Obi-Wan’s hackles, then Rex blinked up at him a few times in confusion. “You’re fuzzy,” Rex accused.

“That’s called a beard, dear,” Obi-Wan drawled in his most obnoxious tone, pretending he didn’t also have fur sprouting most places, nor the partial muzzle of a transformation enough to give him speed and jumping ability enough to get to one of the safe perches they’d set up weeks ago.

The Powers That Be might have created vampires, but they had also somehow missed the small but stubborn population of entirely naturally occurring werewolves (and affiliated were-creatures) around the world. Some, like Obi-Wan and his pack, were doing their damndest to both keep a low profile and help the poor bastards trying to protect the last of humanity.

Some, like Obi-Wan, might have become unwisely open to certain non-lycanthropes due to unfortunate feelings – not that Obi-Wan was ever about to complain about that.

Either his sarcastic tone or the guttural noises of thwarted zombies sank in, because Rex stiffened and glared down. “Fuck!” he hissed, thighs clenching in a way that Obi-Wan both very much did and very much did not appreciate. His eyes damn well crossed at the wiggle that followed – he could only guess that Rex was going for a weapon that he didn’t have.

“Stop that!” he snarled, letting the wolf out a little more. He needed the muscle and mass to keep Rex in place, longer paws digging into the tree trunk for a slightly more secure hold that was notgroping his idiot boyfriend.

His idiot boyfriend leveled a flat, unimpressed look at him. “Really?” Rex grumped. His eyes flicked down, then back up. “Right now?”

“So sorry, but some of us don’t need to ingest extra blood to get it up, and under less fraught circumstances this might be my idea of a good time.” He tried for a drawl, but it was much more strained than he meant. Oh well, it wasn’t like Rex didn’t know he could be ridiculous. And it really wasn’t intentional.

“Less fraught meaning less zombies?”

“And less daylight.” Obi-Wan didn’t mean for his tone to turn sharp, either, but it did even as he very carefully wrapped his arms tighter around Rex. He made certain not to disturb the poncho, but he, at least, wanted the reassurance. He still wasn’t over the terror of having to go mostly wolf to grab Rex from the pack he was trying to slow down, nor the horror of slinging him over a shoulder to go pelting through the trees. Madcap desperation to find a tree stand before a foggy dawn was not his idea of fun. “Your life is worth a hell of a lot more than an inconvenient hard on.”

Rex huffed a laugh, leaning in to rest his cheek against Obi-Wan’s. “Stop being charming.”

“I’m afraid that’s going to happen approximately never. So sorry.”

For a moment, it was just them – two idiots cuddled together, healthy and alive on a genuinely beautiful, bright Spring morning.

Then a terrible gurgling noise broke the moment, and Rex glanced down at the pack still mingling around the tree, groaning their displeasure at not remembering how to climb. “Was that a zombie?” he asked, as if he damn well didn’t know the truth.

“Shapeshifting burns calories,” Obi-Wan reminded him primly. “As does marathon sprints lugging around idiots like potato sacks.”

“That explains the bruises on my stomach,” he muttered, shifting about to rummage in one of Obi-Wan’s pockets. “Jerky?”

“Please.” All in all, now that matters were calmer, Obi-Wan almost hoped that a rescue would take its sweet time. This was almost nice – all things considered.

~end

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

attraction |  hs vampire au

moodboard made by me so don’t use pls

Pairing: Vampire!Harry x NewbornVampire!Reader

Warnings: major mention of blood, basically a slow burn with sexual tension/teasing, SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up before ya tap it), kids), voyeurism, oral (f receiving) and so much more, fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 10.9k (oops)

A/N: well... hi again? i guess?? 🙃 back from the dead agaaaain 🙌🏻 okay but i had a major writer block since my last one shot and oof, was it tough... but now i’m back! more relax and feeling inspired for halloween? so hope you will enjoy this special oneshot about one of my fav brit boys ❤️💞

masterlist  |  tag list

Somewhere near London, UK – year unknown.

Tonight was probably the worst one you ever experienced in your life – well, afterlife –, aside from being turned into a monstrous blood creature against your will just a few months ago. Despite your new inhuman abilities, the mob running and screaming after you still gains ground since you’re leaving a most vivid trail for them to follow.

Though your heart no longer has a normal pulse it feels as if each thump is excruciating pain. The obvious reason might be because you haven't been able to feed yourself properly since you've been... reborn. And so very little human blood was running through your veins because you couldn’t seem to control the hypnosis power. That’s why you’ve been sticking to animal blood but if you were honest, it didn’t give your body the same strength.

Now your body starts to grow heavier by the minute, along with a most painful throb to your fangs that threatens to turn you into a mindless monster that will slaughter aimlessly just to get fed. But that's not what you want. No. No. It may have been four or maybe five months since you could no longer be considered as normal, but still you thought of yourself as a human. And hurting any human was just not conceivable at all for you. You just couldn’t... But sometimes, even the biggest will in the world wasn’t enough anymore.

I feel so sick, I can't go on much longer...

If only these damn hunters knew I wasn't going to kill anyone...

All I wanted was some of her blood because she was alone... just a little bit...

Tears form in the corner of your eyes, feeling like a lost and hopeless child despite being in your twenties. Though you suppose you won’t age anymore now? Or maybe age in such a slow manor you will not be able to see the changes until dozens of years pass. You have no idea at all. The person whom turned you didn't even care to explain a damn thing and just left saying it would be “quite amusing to watch you struggle”.

Your fangs grit in anger just by remembering all this, remembering how and why you could have been so naive – stupid being the right word actually. Willing the tears away you jump into the nearest centenary oak on the side and climb as high as you possibly can. The leaves and branches obscure most of your body, making it easier to hide yourself as you wait in breathless silence for several long minutes. The humans bellow carry guns and crossbows, even torches with blistering fires waving in the cool British wind so hiding from them is definitely the best solution here.

They seem confuse at losing sight of you and your tracks, but the conversation you pick up with your improved hearing foretells how they believe you're still in the area. A tall man with a buff body and dirty blond hair seems the most knowledgeable and well prepared as he dictates how everyone should fan out to cover more space.

Sweat is now dripping all over your body in a way that lets you know your consciousness is going to fade if you don't feed yourself soon. So you use the little strength you have left to escape their sight, silently crawling from a branch to another to reach the next tree. Your senses are becoming dull as well and you know by now you’ll never be able to put up much of a fight if they spot you.

Since there is no one around right now, you decide it may be the best opportunity to climb down and try to get further away into the forest. However, you barely make it to the ground, crunching some leaves beneath your feet before a bullet was fired directly at you. With the quickest slam of your body to the ground, you avoid being hit. For the moment, at least.

“Don't let her get away!”

“Shoot her down! She's weak now!”

Your head shakes, body shivering in a sense of mixed cold and fear, hearing dozens of weapons getting loaded before bullets and arrows start whizzing your way, thanks the lords most of them missing you due to your astute senses. Like blondie said, you are now really weak and can’t help but fail to avoid all of them as one wooden arrow pierces through your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the floor with a screech of pain.

It hurts more than you expected it to, but you grit your teeth and yank it from your skin in one motion. The wound may not be that deep but you can feel blood oozing down your back, staining the fabric of your long dress. After forcing yourself to stand you try to keep running, but after a few steps your body succumbs to your fatigue and falls, noticing the humans have now formed a pretty wide circle around you to cut off every single path possible to escape.

If you weren't this weak and starving for blood, you could fight them off and get away but at this moment, that’s completely impossible. A man with long black hair approaches, extending his hand forward as he’s holding out a wooden cross. The closer he gets the more a headache pounds inside your head, causing you to hiss in agony, tears swelling in your eyes and claws scratching the muddy ground.

Is this the end?

I never got to really live...

I never got to properly love... Love in a way that was true and fulfilling.

A tear slides down your cheek but it's too late. Everyone readies their crossbows and guns to fire at the behest of the long raven haired man. Both of your eyes immediately clench shut, preparing for your upcoming death...

But it never came.

Suddenly, screams and several wet crunches invade your ears while your eyelids slide open the moment you feel an imposing shadow looming over your body. A broad but not too bulky back comes into view as you note a peculiar style of clothing, the vivid red suit they wear contrasting with the dark surrounding of the London outskirt. However the smell of fresh blood rushes through your nostrils, causing your eyes to pulsate and your fangs to throb hungrily.

“How dare you filthy humans attack one of my kind.”

A deep unfamiliar voice penetrates your skull, making you lift your head and discover a tall man with dark wavy hair. He slightly turns towards you, sending you a stoic yet piercing type of glare with intense scarlet pupils that causes goosebumps to bubble all over your body. You have no idea who he is but you can feel in your guts that not only he is indeed a vampire as well but that he's extremely powerful, as demonstrated from the way he dismembers two humans with the vicious dart forward and jerk of his hands. The corpses join the other four on the floor who you discover have their heads decapitated in a clean swipe, no jagged edging to the flesh around their torsos.

The imagery is whiteout a doubt disgusting to even look at, but it's even more appalling that all you can think about is how delicious all this river of bloody disaster smells and how exquisite it would be sliding down you throat. You start to salivate heavily with the madness of hunger, the extreme sensation almost completely overwhelming you but you try your best to hold yourself at bay.

“I didn't expect to see ya again thi' soon, Harry...” your blonde pursuer sighs, his facial expression clearly showing that now, tables have turned.

“I don't want to hear it" interrupts your saviour (at least you hope he is?), his intimidating hoarse voice bringing chills to everyone – you included – while still in front of you. “Leave right now, Niall or I won’t hesitate to rip off y’head too.”

The man named Harry flares all ten of his claws to life, also baring his fangs to definitely reveal that nothing of this was just for show. “'m sick of you killing my people. If they're slaughtering the humans, it would be different but this one–” He turns pointing his finger at you, “this girl hasn't killed anyone. I can smell it... You're chasin' her down for no reason.”

“T-That's not– she was attacking someone, dat's why she got caught–”

"If you speak one more word to me that isn't beggin' for your life followed by leaving, I'll rip all of your limbs before I even go for y’head.”

Harry and Niall stare each other down, the tension as shape as a knife. The human may know how to counter his vampire foe but in all likelihood with most of their numbers dead or bleeding to death, he's aware that right now he has not a single chance. And once again, cohabitation seems the only way to get out of here in one piece (hopefully).

“Fine... we'll be goin'. I know thi’ is yar territory mate, we crossed da border” Niall apologises, a hand over his chest and a small bow before telling his fellow hunters to retreat back to the city.

Though Harry isn't usually happy about letting humans go his posture is finally relaxing a bit, claws retracting as he death glares everyone down until they are no longer insight.

With a long and heaved sigh he fully turns around, finding you holding your head and gritting your fangs in disarray. It's quite clear you are probably not even aware of your surroundings, the blood shot vessels in your eyes telling the brunette your current state of hungriness. As soon as he's by your side in a blink of an eye, he bends down on his knees in front of you, pushing your own hands away so he can clutch your cheeks.

“Calm down, dear, relax your mind. Open your mouth and let me see your fangs, please.”

Though you whimper in uncertainty, that man in front of you is after all the vampire that slaughtered those humans to save you. So you still let him give a look at your small white fangs, your whole jawbone hurting as if you just got punched right in the face.

“I see they haven't grown completely... You must’ve been turned recently, am I right?”

Harry seems slightly angry, though you're not entirely sure it's directed at you but more at his findings. When he pulls back, you follow his body as he grabs a nearby severed arm and brings it back to you. His brows raise in surprise, not expecting this reaction when you whine and push it away, clearly disgusted by it.

“There’s no time to be picky anymore, darling. Y'need to stop thinkin' you're still human, so drink the blood.”

Your head slowly raises, panting as you stare right into his most mesmerising green eyes, some scarlet red from before still outlining his pupils, with your own sorrow filled orbs. Though Harry knows what that look represents, he could hold no sympathy for your lost humanity as he delicately brushes his hand through your hair before pushing the flesh into your mouth for your own good.

It only takes a second for your fight to disappear, the taste of blood that your veins and taste buds have longed for these last weeks finally flowing in your system. Like a wild beast your fangs sink deeper into the arms flesh, sucking and gulping greedily until it's nothing but a shrivelled and discolored severed limb.

The older vampire watches your irises glow with the brightness of your eye colour. In like a snap the strained vessels inside your sclera dissipate bits by bits, assuring that the wound on your back would heal after some minutes as well. Harry expected it when you flicker with your new found strength over to one of the corpses and starts bleeding it dry.

He stands here, crossing his arms over his classy red velvet suit while watching over you. Once he judges you had enough and didn't want you to become addicted in a way that would drive you insane, he carefully but still kind of strongly grab your wrist. You let a little hiss at him, defiantly, which makes him smirk in a way that lets admire his now noticeable dimples and handsome features. Within a few seconds you calm down but Harry is now holding both of your wrists in his grip

“Stay still, dear” was his command, simple yet strict so it feels like you have no choice but to obey.

After letting go of both of your hands once you calmed down, Harry cups your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently turning your head back and forth. You are not sure what the brunette is doing until he finds feint punctures on the side pale skin of you neck. The wound itself seems healed but you still have little small bruises.

“How long ago were you turned and who was it? Why are they not here watchin' over you?”

His array of questions makes you frown, wiggling free of his grasp just so you can huddle your hands around your trembling sorrow body, memories getting their way back into your brain. Memories you consider more as nightmares that keeps hunting you like a damn curse, only to remind you at each breath you take that nothing will be like it was before.

“He was... s-someone I cared about. We'd been seeing each other for a while, and then one day... H-he bit me... a-and forced his blood down my throat.” Telling the story doesn’t really make you feel any better, specially when you let Harry know that the man you trusted only wanted to watch you suffer for his own pleasure.

Seeing a newborn vampire like yourself, looking as lost and fragile as a deer into the wildness, really gets to him. Harry lived for countless centuries he forgot the exact number, but he definitely knows since day one that turning people was against the rules for the most part. At least turning someone and not helping them come into their new desires, powers and hunger. Honestly he is quite impressed you lasted so long on your own when he heard you say it has been nearly five months.

“Come this way, darlin'. The air reeks of human filth out her’.”

With a sudden but graceful turn the vampire starts walking away and finds it amusing how you scamper behind him like a lost puppy. Even your hand grabs the back of his velvety suit, like you dread the feeling of being alone. His comparison to you as newborn is not to be mean or even condescending. You are just so new to your turning that it is perfectly plausible to be scared and anxious about literally anything in your surrounding.

Harry doesn’t mind at all and pretty soon, you both are stepping deeper into the forest your attack happened for a good twenty minutes if not more. Then in front of you slowly appears what looks like a field, a large meadow embraced by the night and in its middle a quint little cottage. It looks nice and homey, but not what you first expected from a fearful creature like him.

“It's not a castle...”

The older vampire sneers at your remark and then turns to you, showing a surprisingly charming grin before pointing to the east. “My real home's far away from here, that's where the castle of y’stories will be. It's vast an' much larger than y'could possibly think, but I don't really fancy it.”

Your eyes blink curiously at him before gasping and pointing your finger in disbelief, a sudden realisation sticking your mind.

“O-Oh my god– are you from r-ro-royalty?!”

“You could say that” the brunette grins while pushing some curly locks back from his forehead. “Lord Harold Edward Styles, is what they call me. Harry for short.”

He merely cackles when your eyes start to swirl in confusion, before babbling nonstop that you didn't know and hope in the same breath with fearful eyes that he won’t kill you. Harry can’t help but frown at this, letting out a sigh.

“Come 'ere and tell me your name, dear. I have no reason to kill ya.”

For some reason, the peaceful and serious expression on his face feel trustworthy, offering his hand like a safety net he knows you need to feel secure. So after a small nibble of your bottom lip, you slowly place your petite hand in his and let him pull you inside his home.

“My name is (Y/N)... Thank you for saving me, my Lord.”

It honestly feels awkward to refer to him like that but maybe was it his rightful term? Being now a vampire yourself, you assume your “rank” is probably way lower than his so “serving” him seems... obvious, right? Yet anything that was happening since you began this new life was a matter of pure confusion to you, even more now since your new encounter with this vampire from royalty.

“You wanted to know who turned me... well, his name was Nick. I don't know if he's still around here, I'm sorry–”

“Just call me Harry, darlin’. I don't care at all for useless formalities unless y’break the rules or try to attack me.”

You viciously nod your head. Never would you do that, you still feel incredibly grateful and intimated by just being in his presence.

“The name sounds familiar as well. A fugitive whose turns 'umans against their will for dozens of years...” Harry mutters to himself, looking pissed that the enforcers in charge of catching people like that still haven't.

And so over the next few days, you learned about your new species in details and got a low down on all the rules you must do your best to follow at all costs. Harry even began to teach you about your abilities and how to tame your appetite for blood, though he commented once again that you were handling yourself well from the beginning.

Harry is for sure a mysterious man and doesn’t honestly act like someone whom is probably rightful King to the vampire’s world. It’s pretty clear he lived a long life while yours had just started. He appears to you as a ray of hopeful guidance in a world that becomes murky and malleable.

“(Y/N), dear, come 'ere.”

At his beckoning call, you place down the book you're reading and come to sit down next to him on the couch. At this point you've been staying with him in the cottage for a few months and knew what to expect when his hands approach your visage to cup your cheeks. Though it’s still a little embarrassing, but still you part your lips and let him examine your fangs like he has many times before ever since you met.

“They're just 'bout fully grown, since you've been fed regularly.”

Your head nod as his hands delicately slide away. It looks like there is something going on his mind, an internal struggle based on his body language that you get used to understand by now.

“Are you still havin' headaches and painful pulses?”

Honestly you wish to say no so he wouldn't worry. But the man likes the truth and only the truth as if the word is his middle name, and you own him that.

“Sometimes... but I'm fine right now. I thought it might be a form of withdraw?”

“You're not too far off. That piece of– person who turned ya didn't give you enough blood. Your human cells an' new vampire ones were basically fighting for dominance at the beginning, but it's clear which one will win in the end.”

Lifting his hand he uses the sharp claw of his index to slice a gash across his palm. Instantly his dark red blood pools in his grasp, before holding it out towards you.

“Drink.”

“I... c-can't?” It comes out as a question because you are indeed confused. “I mean– am I even allowed to? You're the vampire Lord after all... I–I don't want you to get in trouble–”

Harry chuckles immediately, like there isn’t a being alive that could punish him for breaking the rules. With a lift of his unharmed hand looping around your hip, he has you feeling all kind of dizzy when he clenches his fist and dripped his blood onto your plump pink lips.

“Just drink, dear. Maybe I need to start teachin' ya not to question my decisions, mmh?”

His words and your newfound position that has you sitting in his lap makes you feel bashful. You barely begin to lick your lips when the brunette lets you grab his hand to hold it up against your mouth. He feels your warm tongue lap lightly at first along his cold skin, before pursing against the wound and slowly starting to suck.

“That's it... You can sink y'fangs in if you want. The wound will heal faster than you think.”

You blink your big doe eyes at him, your face wondering without a word if all this is alright but you know Harry doesn’t want you to doubt him. Pulling back for just a second you take a breath and bare you fangs again, gently pressing into his skin enough to gulp a little more of his blood. As soon as he decides you had enough Harry pulls back and to your surprise, his wound and marks of your fangs both disappear within a few seconds.

The corners of his pale lips edge up, amused by your astonishment but he startles you with a reposition of your body before you can even realise anything. Now your legs are suddenly straddling either side of his hips, both of your hands pressing timidly at the turquoise suit covering his shoulders with confusion and shyness as the vampire brushes back your hair and leans down to your neck.

“My turn, now” his voice enticingly rasps against your skin. “We can replenish each other thi' way... though my blood is more to stabilise your vampire genes.”

Harry aires the hottest breath along your neck as he then bares his long fangs and sinks deeply into your flesh. You can’t help but gasp, but it sounds more like a moan that you aren’t completely aware of as he starts sucking your warm liquid.

“O-oh Harry–”

He smirks at your honesty, looping both of his hands around your backside. Within seconds he feels your own unsure sway, with the slow pet up against the back of his dark curls. It's been awhile since the brunette had a woman in his arms so his instincts and desires are telling him to take advantage of it.

But in the end Harry resolves against himself as you are still new to his world, and just wants to help you without adding strings. After a handful of seconds and a gulp or two of your sweet wine he pulls back, tenderly lapping up and down the holes until they heal properly and then help you sliding off his lap to make you sit next to him, catching sight of a shy blush of your cheeks and slightly faze expression.

“You shouldn't experience headaches anymore, darlin'” he begins almost too indifferently, “just don't do anything futile an' you’ll get used to bein' a vampire in no time.”

Next Harry sits up more comfortably, flattening his cream oversize pantsuits over his thighs as he side-eyes your cute expression – though is kind of displeased that you’re not looking at him anymore. But he does have to admit that teasing someone was such a nice sensation.

"I’m goin’ to make us some food, so relax in the meantime.”

You simply nod as an answer, definitely not trusting your voice since only stutters would come out if you try. But Harry doesn’t seem to pay attention to your lack of vocal answer, a satisfied expression on his face since he keeps enjoying the reactions you get over anything he does. And as much as he could simply use pressure to dominate and have you sweating in fear, all the man wants is a companion that won’t mind being at his side for awhile.

And so that's exactly who you became to the vampire.

Even after a few months and display that you were functioning perfectly as a vampire and could live on your own without trouble if you desired, you stayed. But the disheartened expression you showed him when Harry said you could leave struck a chord inside his chest. It was clear you thought he’s got tired of you or that you weren't allowed to stay with someone like him for very long because of his status.

Instantly the older vampire put a stop to any of those thoughts by saying that if you wanted to stay, you could. He wasn't kicking you out, he was only giving you the opportunity to leave and see the world by yourself. You were still a young and inexperienced vampire after all. Though the thought of traveling didn't sound like a bad idea, the year you spent with Harry up to this point had been very enjoyable. He held a most gentle yet imposing aura, which was only right since he was not just Lord in name but mostly in power. However that wasn't why you wanted to stay.

Harry had taken care of you and made you feel safe. The feeling you began to experience for him was new but somehow, you wanted to nurture the desire to be with him and make him happy if possible. The way he talked, teased, touched, held you in his grasp and let you feed off of him felt so intimate and somehow romantic.

In this respect time flew by and in a way felt like it had frozen since neither of you would show any signs of ageing. Both of you grew closer and found out that Harry was (surprisingly) a great cook, received visitors from the castle he told you about almost all the time and had a soft spot for the graceful beauty of nature. It was not that hard to tell because the brunette admitted right away that he enjoyed wandering outside the cottage, might be only to walk around or appreciate the first rays of dawn or sunset. And you could tell he took care to not trample the flowers under his steps and sometimes, you saw him watering the ones around his front porch. Some days you would even notice a new bouquet freshly gathered, settled in a Victorian style vase on the living room table. It was a small most insignificant trait, but you adored finding out those types of mannerisms.

“Harry?” you call softly with a thoughtful finger under your chin. At first you thought he was reading in his study since he had a nice little library, but the room was empty. Turning back, you check the living room and kitchen but they are both empty as well.

For a moment you wonder if he stepped out without saying – he's done it multiple times before. However you stop in front of his bedroom and get the feeling he might be taking a nap, another thing that isn’t uncommon. If he indeed is resting you don’t want to disturb him but after a small knock, you peak your head inside the room.

Low and behold there the brunette vampire is laying sprawled out on his bed, the silly thought that it should have been a coffin makes you giggle but you learned with him that many stereotypical aspects of vampires are so wrong – though it's true you can't walk in the sunlight, that crosses can cause pain and any significant damage to your body will kill you.

Now that you know he's asleep, you can't ask him what you wanted. Without getting too close you watch him sleep for a second and find his peaceful expression alleviating. Every now and then, you get the feeling the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And inside your heart, you know he was such a good man. After maybe a minute you turn back, ready to head out the room but his low and raspy voice calls out to you in a way that has you tripping over your own feet, bumping into the nearby wall.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Aren’t ya a bit clumsy, dear?” Harry snickers while sitting up, watching you rub your shoulder with a flustered expression.

From the look on your face and the way you avoid eye contact, he can clearly guess what you are bashfully unsure of if it's alright to ask of him.

“If you want to be fed, come ‘ere.”

The fact that Harry always knows what's on your mind is a little scary and reassuring at the same time because he has never used any of his power to harm you. With soft eyes, you step over to the right side of his bed and watch as he unbuttons the first few around the collar of his extravagant flowing shirt. As soon as his neck is exposed from the lacy collar, the vampire leans to the side beckoning you to take what you want without a word.

A gulp slides down your throat as you sit down on the edge of the bed. With the lift of your hands, you slowly push his pearly necklace up then press them on each of his shoulders before brushing your nose along his neck, fanning an ever soft breath against his skin with the bare of your fangs.

“I really like your personality, Harry... I-I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Your tender confession catches him off guard more than the actual prick of your fangs, not that any bite you'd already given him comes with very much force. The brunette can feel himself enjoying the way you suck his blood out of his system. It’s definitely a hard thing to play off for him right now, and it has actually been every single day you shared with him.

When you had a gulp or two you then part a little and tenderly kitten-like lap at your punctures, speeding up the healing process for him.

“... do you want to bite me as well?”

Though your cheeks are a little warm you show a most candid smile, brushing back your hair to display your neck for him just as he has done for you.

“I do, but... I'll decide where I want to bite ya. Just relax, darlin'.”

Despite a little confusion, you don’t mind the tug of your body closer to his own. Both of his unblinking emerald orbs glanced your body up and down in a way that makes you feel embarrassed. If he’s not going to bite your neck, where else is he going to sink his fangs?

The dress you have on is a simple long white off the shoulder variety that honestly displays some of your skin while still letting you look sweet and innocent. Honestly Harry likes it a lot – maybe a bit too much actually – just because he would wickedly enjoy defiling that imagery in his mind. You are a kind and sweet woman, a total sweetheart indeed, but the man already found out vividly that you liked pleasure just as much as anyone else does.

Without thinking very much his cold hand raises up against your right knee, the tail of your outfit covering it. The way you shyly bite your bottom lip with your fangs is a hell of a nice image. Harry only caresses a little bit along your inner thigh before sliding his hand under the fabric, and then rest it directly on your skin. Edging his head forward he startles you with the way he tugs down the middle of you dress with his fangs, until he can see perfectly between your cleavage.

The location Harry chose is so confusing that your frame jolts the moment the vampire sinks into your flesh. Both his hands are against your body, enjoying its shape as he gulps your sweet nectar greedily. He savours your startled grasp on his shirt but the uneven pulse he feels beneath your flesh encourages him to keep going, his now scarlet orbs flickering with heavier desire.

All it takes is another small tug to reveal your bare breasts to his lidded sight. By time you realise his lips are already pursed around the closest nipple, warmly lapping the flat of his tongue in a way that feels exquisite. Like the male vampire you quickly get caught up in the moment, leaning your head back to moan and enjoy the added fray of his hand squeezing the other breast.

For a moment, you briefly thinks about how his saliva and tongue are both so warm as they suckle and lick your skin, when his flesh is cold and pale like your own. The answer doesn’t matter specially as his fangs tease your little nub. It’s clear Harry can’t hold back no more, now sunking savagely into your mound.

“O-oh my–!”

A ripple of pure ecstasy slides all over your body, causing you to moan Harry’s name not just once but a couple of times. The pleasure is so unexpected yet your arms circle around his shoulders, curving along his fine muscles but that’s when he realises how he’s letting his lust for you take over him.

Abruptly the brunette detaches from you, a small pop making you gasp but for the most part your hazy expression questions him with such want that he has to look away for his own sanity. The unhindered view of your breasts really dulls all of his develop senses. It had been awhile since he felt such powerful sexual desire for a woman, definitely way too long since his body was apparently getting out of control and a mind of its own. 

“Get out” Harry suddenly growls, making you frown and wonder what you’ve done wrong. “I didn't mean to do that– I just got caught up in trying to tease ya. If you're still hungry, go find a human.” When you don’t seem to move, still shocked at his harsh way of talking that rarely happen (in fact it never happens with you), the vampire turns his head back while flaring his menacing dark embers at you in a way that makes you tremble.

With a hurt expression you quickly cover your chest, trying to fix your dress the best you can before apologising like a hurt puppy and simply scamper at the speed of the light out of the room. Once alone, a now heavy silence settled in, Harry’s fists bowl-clawing his palms but it was the least he cared about. He didn’t mean to scare you, in fact he's been trying so hard not to use any of his powers on you.

The man is centuries older than you and shouldn't care about trivial feelings you may have, but both of you had such a good relationship since now and a part of him doesn’t want it to change... though Harry has always seen you as a beautiful woman. It’s not like he can’t admit that much at last, the man was kind of bad at expressing himself out loud most of the time. What he was most unsure about is if you really wanted him or if it was your vampire senses that tells you to submit to him like that.

With a heavy sigh he buttons his white shirt half way up, arranging his long and floating sleeves while deciding he should at least check on you. After all Harry won’t blame you for leaving if you want to create space between you two. Because now that he thinks about it, never did he ever speak to you like he did five minutes ago, and repeatedly calls himself a douche for that. 

The thought quickly – and thankfully – dissipates the moment he steps into the hall and hears the running water from the shower inside your bedroom. A relived expression formed on his face, glad that you didn’t leave. Abandonment was something he was used to over the centuries and had lived through many times. It’s honestly a miracle it had been about three years at this point and you maintained a good playful relationship with each other – well, until a few moments ago.

Soundlessly, Harry edges down the hall and notices the door of your bedroom open. As he approaches towards it, he finds himself inside the room before advancing to the closed bathroom door. Now in front of it he closes his eyes and place his hand on the wooden doorframe. His senses are far more astute than your own so every subtle breath you take, movements through the water or flex of your hands as they rubbed soap against your pale body... he could picture it pretty vividly. Just imagining the curves of your body is turning him on, specially thanks to the welcomed sneak peak at your chest from earlier. His fingers silently curl around the door knob, a light voice in his head reminding him once again he should stop before reaching the point of no return, that he should leave you in peace to wash up and later and offer you a nice meal as an apology for being a complete jackass earlier.

However, he can't. His senses twinge with the soothing aroma of lavender tickling his nostrils, knowing that's the soap he got you some weeks ago. With the slowest of movement that you won’t hear nor sense if you don't focus on it, the brunette opens the door wide enough to allow him a peak through the crack.

The first thing his eyes drag over is your long dress crumpled on the floor along with a soft cotton pair of light blue panties. Without waiting a second longer he tilts up and gets a completely unhindered view of your backside. His eyes follow the dip of your spine to the soft plush curve of your ass and long legs. Just observing this much of you has him gulping down hungrily but the moment you turn, using both hands to accentuate your breasts and stomach, there is no path to return to. All Harry can do is pant an uneven breath as you sway the water over your womanly shapes, washing away the soapy sheen of bubbles and suds.

The content and relaxed hum you air echoes inside the small space of the glass shower, bringing the man goosebumps of delight like a moan without sexual inclination. The more he watches your body and the subtle move of your fingers, the more Harry can't stop his own from unzipping his pantsuit to free his cock. His strong fingers curl around his girth, slowly pumping himself up and down as he watches you bend over just a bit to let water cascade down your back. An instant burn of want invades his entire body, the desire to squeeze those fine cheeks or even offer you a naughty little spank not leaving his mind.

Harry watches your hands do exactly what he desires when they pet down your hips and accentuate the shape of your bottom, like the water feels particularly nice cascading against it. Honestly, the smirk can’t leave his face. You're incredibly and undeniably sexy in a most natural way, so why holding back? His palm squeezes the tip of his manhood with excited fervor, still watching you smile shyly at the barely noticeable bite marks on your chest. You like to an extreme when the brunette vampire bites you, there’s no denying this fact as you moaned it to him many times. And Harry has a feeling you would have let him go further if he didn’t get confused about his fantasies.

The claws of his other hand dig into the frame of the door, scratching it all up as he pumps himself with the unbearable desire he has inside his guts for you to touch him. It doesn't even have to be his cock, he'd be fine with you admiring his body like you have before or stroking through his hair with that soft content smile on your delicate pink lips.

Thoughts inside his head become more erotic when he looks up at the sound of your soft voice humming a little tune. Both of his now dark scarlet eyes end up focusing on your mouth and gritting his teeth in a haze of wanting to feel those plump appendages against his girth. The movement of your tongue and warmth of your throat he can picture so vividly bring him closer and closer to the edge with each squeeze along his base and tip.

He even finds the way you rinse your hair to be erotic because you look so whimsical. A thought of wanting to devour you in every single way possible is what officially sends him over the edge, causing him to grind his teeth and grunt your name as he comes all over his hand.

His mind is so cloudy and hazy he doesn't even care that you’ve finally noticed him. Your eyes widen in total surprise, but your complexion darkens at the lewd sight of his arousal dripping from his fingers. Your head turns away before you can implode from embarrassment, hot water still running along your naked skin. You can’t help the deepest thoughts running wild and wondering if Harry was watching you shower to eventually pleasure himself to your body while doing so.

“Don't act shy now, my dear. I'm about to join you.”

At first you blink in confusion, glancing back in his direction to watch as he shuts the bathroom door to be inside the room with you. This signature showing-dimples grin enlightens his face in a way that reveals his pearly white fangs, before letting his already oversize black pantsuits fall to the floor. Harry is pretty quick to unbutton his shirt again, the soft and almost see-through fabric sliding off his shoulder to cascade on the floor soon followed by his trousers and underpants, leaving him absolutely naked for your eyes only.

Harry is the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. A tall and sculptured vampiric body that probably hasn't changed for hundreds of years. With a few steps forward the brunette is on the other side of the shower glass door and wraps his fingers around the handle, ready to erase any distance separating you both. He pauses his movement for a few seconds, letting both of you take in each other’s new found appearance and what might be about to happen.

“If I join you, (Y/N)” begins Harry almost in a whisper, his eyes never leaving yours, “... I won’t ever be able to leave ya alone.”

Your eyes rise in surprise, his expression reflective of how serious he was being. For a second or two you turn away, your hands covering your face which is giving him the impression you might be having second thoughts. Though the croak of your voice and the tender expression you offer when you slowly spin back proves how you've been able to constantly surprise him these past years.

“Is that a promise?"

Without a second thought Harry is right by your side and looming over you in a possessive dominating way. Both of his hands pet along the warm and wet edge of your stomach, before gripping your hips and tugging you completely into his body. Without pretence his expression represents just how much he enjoys your whole and can’t wait but brush some of your hair sticked on your face, assuring you he can't wait another second to kiss you.

The distance between you both closes with the warmest capture of your lips that quickly becomes some passionate tongue action. It honestly feels that divine you couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss. The warmth of the water doubles nicely the little fire forming inside your guts, in a way that affirms you’ve never felt such a discombobulating kiss before.

Right away Harry greedily begins stroking, groping and petting every single supple curve your body has to offer. Even your own hands note the nice shape of his back and every defined dreamy muscle. His lips curve up as he tugs playfully at your bottom lip, the gentle way you appreciate his shape really has him feeling some type of way.

“Give yourself to me, darlin’, this time I won’t be holdin’ back.” 

The air of his wanting rasp meets the underside of your chin, of which Harry is currently kissing his way down. With a press of both his hands on your lower back he has you arching and moaning as he licks between your breasts. When the vampire starts to nip at your plush skin, it’s even more overwhelming because not only is he pursing his lips but his tongue is gliding all over you. The flat of his wet muscle makes sure to whirl around the ridge of your nipple, assuring it’s perfectly erect before nibbling on it with his fangs.

“Oh Harry, that feels so good...” 

Hearing your honest pleasure encourages him to absolutely cover your breasts in love bites both a literal and physical way, each mark more blissful than the next. Your mind becomes so consumed you don’t even know Harry is backing you up until you meet with the wet and slightly cold tiles.

Just looking up to admire the shower water perfectly cascading over his rippling muscles – his weirdly yet attractive inked skin on full display and usual necklaces in place – is the most blessed image you could wish for. This Adonis of a man looks so perfect that you lean up to offer him your own slow and sensual desire filled kiss. Little do you know he enjoys your initiative, specially since you’re kitty licking around his tongue.

Slowly Harry begins to take over such as his more dominate nature, but you oh so don’t mind. In fact you’re getting lost in the way his strong hands fondle and squish your chest. The thumb of his left hand even circled around the perky tip, while his middle and index on his other give you some slow pinches like he’s determined to have you mewling into his mouth.

“I must ‘ave been out of my mind to wait three fuckin’ years to ‘ave you...” Harry growls while baring his fangs, pressing into the top area of your shoulder. The bite he gives isn’t even painful since the puncture is slow and the suckle he drinks your blood feels so pleasurable.

“H-Harry, I’ve never felt any pain w-when you bite me” you start, stuttering from all his attention on you. “I-I thought I was weird, b-but I can't help but want so much more...”

Harry’s lips curve up against your skin as you let a louder and more frequent moan, not only because the vampire leaves deep red hickeys on your neck and collarbones, but because his hand slides down to rest between your legs.

The moment you sense it outlining your womanhood, you arch your back while clutching your hands tightly around his shoulders. Without waiting his index and middle finger caress your lower lips for just a second or two, before encouraging your legs to spread further apart so Harry can thrust them effortlessly into your core.

“A-ah– feels so good!”

Enraptured by your praise, Harry increases his rhythm and feels the thump of your slow heartbeat. His own is probably pulsing in the same way, it's been so long since the man felt this exhilarated. With a caress at your hip for you to steady, the wobble your legs frays at his kisses all over your breasts and even a slippery curl with his tongue down to your belly button.

By the time you try to follow what’s happening, the brunette is already on his knees between your legs, kissing nonstop at your inner thighs. Out of the corner of his eye you can tell Harry is actually watching himself glide his fingers in and out of your slippery folds. It should be embarrassing, but you find that more thrilling than anything else. He’s so passionate as a lover, the attention he gives being excruciatingly euphoric whatever he does.

“Earlier” his raspy voice mumbles against your thigh before he proceeds, “I was so tempted to push y'down an’ bite your thigh...”

As he licks hungrily at your skin, you recall how he caressed up your upper leg earlier, the touch offered when you woke him up was oddly intimate. It made you bashful since it was so sudden, but if he had done as he wanted you wouldn't have stopped him.

“Now I’ve a second chance... so don't mind if I do, darlin’.”

Your chest heaves with the warmth bubbling all over your skin as you watch the bare of his pointy sharp fangs and the immediate pierce into your inner thigh. A loud moan echoes around the shower, the vibrations prickling Harry’s ears and assuring he won’t part from your delectable flesh until he gives you his most vivid love bite.

Your head shakes at how all consuming the pleasure you’re gladly receiving feels. And as he sucks the sweet blood from your thigh, he doesn’t hesitate to add a third finger into your fold, now working a pace that lets you know in accurate detail that you're indeed incredibly wet. It’s not just the shower anymore, both of you know this for a fact. By now you have no problem admitting you’re turned on like a thousand lightbulbs.

“Your smell’s drivin’ me insane...!” came his lidded snarl, some little blood dripping down his chin but quickly washed away by the shower. Harry is darting for your womanhood like a famished animal, the instant curl of his fingers along your slit having you whimpering and yanking at his wet hair a bit too hard.

“F-fuck– I’m sorry Harry” you whimper out your sincere apologise along with a moan, the back of your head bumping on the tile wall as if the king of vampires like the one kneeling between your legs could get hurt from such a small type of friction. “It feels like I-I can't breath– feels so good!” 

"If you're that out of it, y'can be rougher...”

His warm breath hazes over the sensitive bead of your clit, making you convulse in pleasurable disarray. With his hands taking a fist full of your ass, Harry pushes you deeper against his tongue to then curl it up and down. The sensation of him lapping against your slick inner walls has you seeing stars, knowing a man has never eaten you out so hungrily before.

With the constant pant of your moans filling the primal space inside his head, there is only one and simple desire he has: to make you cum on his tongue and no matter what, he will not pull away until you do. It’s more rewarding than you'll ever know to have your writhing body in his grasp, not just your trembling legs when he had the chance to have you innocently straddle him, but the arousal coating his lips and the subtle desire filled push of your hands that want him even deeper inside you were exciting in a maddening way.

“A-ah please Harry, I c-can't–!” 

You are barely able to tell him how close you’re feeling right now, as drool ebbs heavily down your lips. Harry is already aware though because of the curl of your fingers, each tugging at his hair in your peak of utmost disorienting pleasure.

With a gentle pat over your soft wet body, he squishes both of your breasts and thrusts his red muscle in a most detail oriented type of way. Your praises grow in frequency as well, telling him how utterly euphoric you feels and how hot the knot in your stomach makes your skin burn, bringing you closer to your end. Everything kinda rushes to the tipping point with a pinch to your buds, causing the instant convulse of your folds and drench of your fluids flow down his chin, assuring the fangs in his mouth are vividly pulsating.

It takes everything not to sink in to your most sensitive body part. Harry manages to calm himself down with the caress of your hands falling limp, feeling one curve around his ear to hold him gently where he is. With the thought of how much he needs to claim you, the brunette gulps down your nectar and even laps the slippery sheen coating your slit.

As he raises back up to stand, all it takes is a small hazy blink for you to miss completely the way Harry yanks up both of your legs and positioned you right against his cock. “’m gonna take you hard an' fast– can't wait another second to make y'mine.”

Your lips part but all you’re able to say is a pant of his name, while coiling tightly around his neck and nodding your head.

“Have all of me, take me Harry–”

The vampire most certainly doesn’t have to be told twice, so without hesitation he thrusts deeply into your slippery folds. His speed is just as instantaneous as the pleasure you start to drown in. You never knew your voice could go so loud and high pitched until a man with much vigour and strength named Harry came along, thrusting his hips in a way that fills you to the brim with every movement he makes.

“S-Shit you're so fuckin' wet– so tight ‘round me, only for me–”

His fangs are on domineering display, getting off on your pleasurable honesty just as much as the throb of your tight folds. You don’t get to see his expression though as you leaned your head back again but this time caused by a every aggressive slam of your ass on his thighs. That gives him the perfect opportunity to enjoy your neck, so the vampire doesn’t mind.

Each electrifying kiss left on your skin feels exceptional, every sway of his hips lets you know he’s a well endowed man and quite honestly just being in his arms has you feeling this way. This man didn't have to save you or take you in and just could have gotten rid of your at any time. But the instant he's allowed you to stay and gave you a comforting space to get used to your knew desires and vampiric body.

There is a part of you that wishes you still has a conventional heartbeat just so you could feel how erratic it could be thundering against your ribcage. However, even without a human heartbeat you still knew you were excited beyond all belief. Just being able to run your hands along his shoulders, maybe even brush up against the back of his head has you feel like his long time lover.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of ya” Harry suddenly growls in madness, dropping one of your legs back against the floor while he pulled the other higher up and hold your thigh, basically watching himself rammed his thick cock into your body. There’re not a single word forming on the tip of your tongue other than whimpers and mewls of ecstasy.

His speed and precision to hit your most sensitive spots are probably only possible due to his improved senses and longevity. No doubt in your mind Harry probably had many past lovers before you but you don’t really care. He always tells you to live in the moment and not muddle through just because of your past.

“You're now a vampire, (Y/N). Act like one for your own sake.”

These are the words he told you over the past shared years together, which became your mantra to feel validated in your new life. Speaking of your new desires, your fangs are constantly throbbing and pulsating for the past minute, reason why your eyes have been glued to his neck and shoulder ever since. The need to bite him is so overwhelming that you simply don’t care to ask before diving forward to sink deeply into the space right bellow his ear.

“H-hah, y'little vixen– that feels so damn good, have your fill” the brunette encourages you with no malice but utter pleasure.

In fact he’s enjoying the twinge of your fangs so much his fervour keeps increasing. His hips edge even closer while his clawed hand takes a hold of your waist and starts slapping at your inner thighs in a way that have your arousal dripping profusely onto the shower floor.

You can’t stop yourself from moaning against his skin or salivating heavily as you absorb down his delectable blood. You swear his nectar tastes even more delicious then it ever has before, like the most finest aged wine. It's a thought you can barely focus on as you suddenly toss your head back, feeling yourself reach a most blissful end.

The moment Harry senses your insides clench repeatedly, he shoves his tongue down your throat and becomes enraptured in the way you meet his every slapping movements. Heavy saliva from both of you mixes together, dripping profusely down your chin as soon as you feels the deeply penetrating thrust of his cock slam into your womb. His arousal fills you to the brim in a way that makes you drift through euphoria.

After some time the brunette parts from your kissed swollen lips, a thin sheen of saliva still connects you together before quickly breaking when he licks his fine pale lips. The vampire smirks at you in complete satisfaction while ever slowly edging his girth away from your wall, not without admiring how thickly coated in your juices his manhood is. Maybe Harry even salaciously admires the dribble of your combined arousal from your slit, but it’s clear you are feeling utterly spent and can only keep yourself up by pressing a bit at his chest and shoulders, leaning your back against the tiles behind you.

With a soft expression that suits him so heavenly, Harry tenderly strokes his hands up your body while admiring once again the plush shape of your stomach, breasts and the slender trail up your neck to cup your soft cheeks. The smile you give him proves he’s offering all the affection he is able of with the sensual touch of your lips with his. This kiss is the slowest and most romantic you ever felt from him yet, while the brunette lifts you in his arms properly again before pulling away from the kiss.

“I'll help you dry off, dear. ‘think we've soaked in the shower long enough.”

“Thank you Harry” you thank him with a slight smile, your cheeks nuzzled into his wet chest before placing a kiss there that has him avoiding your gaze and wondering where a romance like this has been all his long life. 

You sit still once he settles you on the sink counter, wiggling cutely as he dries you off with purposeful caresses of your more intimate body parts. When he also dries himself both of you get dressed – you into the long nightdress you took before your shower and him back in his oversized pantsuits only. Afterwards, you take his hand as Harry walks you both out of your bathroom. It’s clear you wish for him to lay with you in your nearby bed but he hesitates at the edge of it, looking towards your still wide open door. It seems like Harry wants to escape but that’s not it at all. He is looking towards his study at the other side of the hallway where an item he had hidden was secretly and well kept.

“I'll be right back– hey, don't make that face, darlin’... I'll lay with ya when I come back.”

You lean into the palm of his warm hand that softly strokes your cheek, adding a hopeful nod. Your soft eyes trail behind his tall figure as Harry steps out into the hall, leaving your door cracked open behind him. With a little doubt forming in your heart you lay on the silk mattress of your bed and turn, rolling back and forth like a restless child waiting for time to fly as fast as possible.

It took him longer than he wanted as he struggled with whether this was the right thing to do or completely the opposite, tons of questions invading his mind: did you want him as much as he wanted you, and so should he trust you with a secret only a handful of the Royal vampires know? His hundreds of years differs so greatly from your barely twenty-five-ish ones. The brunette keeps rushing his thoughts because first, he wants you to be happy and second, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

With the item in his hands, Harry clenches his fingers tightly around it and makes his way back to your side. As he enters the silent room, smelling some faint aroma of lavender from your previous shared (hot) shower, you’re actually snoring softly while sprawled out in a way that takes up nearly the entire bed, which makes the brunette slightly chuckles at how silly yet adorable you are. He shakes his head with the soft expression you love so much on him, effortlessly scooting you further to one side before climbing in next to you.

For a couple of minutes Harry strokes your hair and caresses your skin, before taking your right hand and placing on your fourth finger a gold ring with a glimmering ruby jewel in its middle. Your eyes flicker open at the feeling, followed by a small yawn while watching the careful placement of your new jewellery with a bashful smile.

“... Are you asking me to marry you, Harry?”

His emerald eyes open wide in shock, skin darkening more than you thought a creature like him was capable of. Instantly the brunette uses your palm to cover his face and slowly shakes his head, the white pearl of his necklace softly jiggling around his neck at this. The breath from his parted lips tickles your skin and honestly makes you fall at peace.

“N-no– well n-not yet at least, uh–” Harry stutters, still hiding his face with your hand. He clears his throat before continuing “though this is my gift to you, love.” 

You can’t see the way he actually bites his bottom lip, but your eyes notice both his hands covered in rings that he always wears. And one catches your attention, the one with a similar ruby jewel in the middle yet of a different shape.

“This will allow ya to walk 'round in the sunlight, this way it will no longer cause you any harm, my dear.”

“Really? But you said that it would always hurt...?”

“Without an amulet blessed an’ enchanted by a powerful witch, the sunlight will cause us vampires harm. That’s why you must always wear it.”

Harry lowers your combined hands so you’re finally able to see the serious expression on his face. “You must never tell anyone abou' this. Not a single soul, vampire or human alike, my dear. No one.”

“I would never cause you trouble, Harry. And I promise I'll take this secret to my grave” you respond back, arms sliding around his hips like a silent wish to lay your head against his bare torso, a motion which your lover gladly welcomes by sliding his fingers through your hair. 

With a thankful smile you get comfortable, closing your eyes in hopes to snuggle with him while you sleep.

“People will not question it if y’tell them you were sired by me” proceeds the brunette vampire abasing your hair, fingers still entangled in your soft locks to massage your scalp. “It's a misconception tha' pure royal vampires are born immune to the hurtful rays of sunlight... Most of our kind think a person turned by us will also be immune.”

“I wish... I had been turned by you” you let out in a whisper while keeping your face nuzzle against Harry’s chest. “I want to be with you for as long as I'm able to.”

The vampire can’t resist but leave feather-like kisses on your forehead and hairline, your confession definitely making him feel... alive. His hot breath hitting your skin gently soothe you and so are his kisses, the sudden brush of his nose against your face bringing a delightful giggle out of you which Harry would never get tired of.

“Maybe I'll be the one to ask you to marry me, who knows...” you add, your index finger sliding over his pearl necklace with a define grin on your face. 

No words could describe how you make Harry feel. Never has he been more grateful for the quick way you fall asleep just so he could hug you tightly against him. Maybe later, he will be able to tell you that, as surprising as that may sound, the man has never been married in his long life either. There has never been someone this special to him to go for it. It's indeed hard to say if Harry wants to make that commitment with you at this point either the thing he’s sure of is his wish - no, his desire to be with you. Forever. 

“Good night, my love... Maybe tomorrow I’ll take ya to the castle y’ask me about all the time.”

* * * 

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[hpalways]

Yaksha’s Destiny || Xiao

DARKNESS was the biggest fear held by fellow Yakshas. This power bestowed upon you and many alike gave an opening to the pitting shadows that raged within your chambers. Some days, it wasn't as bad -- other days... it felt like you were getting ripped apart into shreds, taking in all your willpower to battle against it. It was tempting, to give in and call it quits. Life for a Yaksha wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. There were always too many demons and not enough heroes. Especially for a weaker one like you, anger and frustration would stem from these battles, only to eat at you later on. 

Today was one of those days. The sky was a stormy sea of clouds, with the Gods crying from the heaven above. Droplets prickled down your bare skin, cold to the touch. While in the mountainside, you had stumbled upon demonic energy, so there was no choice but to finish them off. 

Dodging the monster that lunged at you, you took out your polearm. The hydro vision on your hip gleamed brightly in the setting. Taking a turn, you could feel power surge to your arms. As you were about to jab your weapon into the demon's abdomen, they had ducked in time. Shit. You had underestimated this one.

Its body rammed into you, knocking you off your feet. Air left your system, causing you to groan in pain. Just as it was about to sink its teeth into your arm, you rolled over on one side and jumped back to your feet. Fingers clenching tightly around the metal stick, you pushed your hind legs and tried to stab at it another time. Your speed and reaction time was too slow. Too damn slow. Too damn weak. Gritting your teeth, you began to use up more of Yaksha's power, drinking the exhilarating taste of freedom. It was so addicting... often times, you'd wished it'd never stop. 

A burst of water shrouded from the weapon, circling the demon until it was surrounded. With one, clean fell swoop, you sliced the demon and the energy faded away. The deed was done. 

Falling to your knees, your entire body was shaking. Face contorted and in pain, nails dug into the earth to feel wet mud. Your body would not move -- it could not. Stilling there as if you had just been paralyzed, hungering thoughts plagued your mind... Thoughts you wished weren't yours. Letting out a disgusting whimper, similar to that of a wounded animal, you bit down on your lip, hard. Blood dribbled down your chin, painting the grass in crimson. Tugging at your mask, you stared at it for a moment. A sigh let out. 

That was a close one. Crashing to the ground, your chest heaved up and down in exhaustion. 

A figure suddenly entered your peripheral vision. Climbing up to the ridge of the mountain was Xiao, his dark teal locks blowing along with the harsh winds. Donned in his usual robes, he was as attractive as ever. The first time you stumbled upon him -- one of the famous five -- you nearly forgot to breathe. You had referred to him as Alatus then, starstrucked by such a powerful being. 

You would never not awed by him. The way he held himself would always come to remind you of the big gap in strength between the two of you. Maybe you did establish a relationship with this all-mighty Yaksha, but this inferiority complex was tugging your strings more than you'd like to admit. 

At the same time, he provided you the distraction needed. He kept you grounded, which prevented you from going mad. He was the only one who made you feel human, if that was even possible. 

Golden amber hues landed on you, withholding an unreadable expression. He walked up to your beaten up form and sat down, unbothered by the rain. Struggling to get yourself into a sitting position, you looked out at the view in front. 

"You used up too much of your power again," he murmured. 

"Do you think I don't know that? I had no choice," you sighed. 

His sharp eyes narrowed further. "You were being careless."

"It happened. There's nothing I can do to change it." His anger barely dwindled and the scowl only deepened. "Come on, Xiao. I don't want to talk about my mistakes when I'm with you. Busy as we are, I barely get to see you as of late. Can't we just enjoy our brief time together?"

That got him. His eyes softened at your words and he reluctantly nodded in agreement. Seizing the victory, you laid your head on his shoulder, feeling warmth even upon this cold weather. The rain was starting to let down too -- perhaps Xiao was the lucky charm.

"What have you been up to?" you inquired. 

"Demons. Monsters. The usual," he responded. His cheeks tinged with a soft pink all of a sudden. "I... I also got you something."

Your ears perked up at the sound of this. Lifting your head, you watched him in curiosity. He took something out from his robe pockets and slowly opened his palm. Laying there was a blue, glowing object. Shaped as a butterfly, it was gorgeous. You had never seen this kind of butterfly around these parts. He must have traveled far to have found it. 

"It's a crystalfly," he mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your heart raced at his actions. He was too cute. Before meeting him, you could have never imagined the Vigilant Yaksha to possess such qualities. "I saw it and... thought it would look good in your hair."

"Oh, I love it. Thank you," you whispered breathlessly, touched beyond words. This was exactly what you meant with how Xiao could easily brush your problems away with a smile.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed his lips. They were soft as petal leaves. He returned the gesture immediately, arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. Digging your fingers into his hair, you kissed with a ferocity that was never present in your fights. This was to release the pain you dealt with today. As long Xiao was here, you were going to be okay. As long as he was by your side, you were going to be okay. This era of demons and gods will end someday, leaving you a happy future with him. 

You tasted him. His lips. His mouth. His entire self. He tasted of mint. He tasted of life. He tasted of iron. The kind of metal tang found in blood. Sighs were exchanged upon each kiss, breathless but the two of you would not let the other go. Your lips trailed down to his jaw, peppering his baby-soft skin with a few nibbles here and there. He let out a gasp. 

Finally you pulled away, giggling at his flustered state for your bold moves. 

The end was nearing. He picked up the crystal fly and reached up to your [h/c] hair. While he gently pinned it down, you could only focus on his swollen lips. He was beautiful... and you loved him so. 

"[Y/N]," he said, interrupting the honey silence of the mountains. "If you are ever in trouble, just call my name and I will come to you. In any circumstance, avoid overusing your power."

This bliss that left you giddy disappeared as quick as it came. All that remained was the harsh, cruel reality. Brows knitted together in offense and you quickly shook your head. "Why would I do that? I'm a Yaksha. What kind of Yaksha seeks help from another? This wounds my pride, Xiao. Is your faith in my skill and strength that low?"

"No. That's not it," he argued, features twisted in desperation. "Why won't you let me protect you?"

"Unbelievable," you merely scoffed, staggering up to stand. "I have to go. I'm sure you do too."

Ignoring his blubbering protests, you jumped down upon ledges until you reached ground level safely. He didn't understand what you had to go through. He never had to face judgement from those who didn't believe in you. Strong enough to battle the demons both externally and internally, Xiao was different from you. But even so... even if his words meant that he only cared for you, it hurt like you had been just stabbed. 

You were willing to prove to him that you could stand on your own feet. He was going to eat his own words. So would the other Yakshas who looked down on you your entire life. If you trained hard enough, surely improvement could be gained. Right? It wasn't as if destiny could determine what you could accomplish already. 

Approaching the forest that was said to contain many strong demons and monsters, you surged ahead, with eyes filled of challenge. 

There, sitting in a nook was a cave, Sensing a suffocating presence, you knew you had hit a jackpot. Sneaking across the grassy lands, you stayed silent. The tall, towering trees were beginning to look a lot more ominous. Tiptoeing to the edge of the cave, you peered in to find the energy unbearably strong. One staggering breath later and you went forward. A roar let out, signaling that it knew of its intruder. Shoulders tensed up and sweat beaded your forehead, but you couldn't stop now. No matter what, you were going to go through with it. 

It was a beast. Fangs gleamed in the darkness, nearly the size of your weapon. Having woken from its slumber, its terrifying eyes landed on you. Claws swiped the air, which you barely avoided in time. Fear had seized you with a hand, choking you until you could barely move. This was a terrible, foolish move. There was no way you could beat such a demon. 

Calling in more power, it filled you up at the core. To waste no time, you delved right into battle, slashing at the monster. It had little to none effect on it. With a lazy swipe of its arm, it slammed you right into the cave's walls, causing you to spit out blood. Pushing yourself up, you tried again, putting in more power to your weapon. Adding hydro to the mix, the weapon hit its arms. It caused the monster to roar in pain, but that only made it more angry. Barreling straight to you, similar but much more frightening than the last demon, it pounced on you, pinning you down to the ground. 

Drool left its mouth, splattering all over on your face. Its claws dug into your side and you let out a piercing scream. You were so fucking sick of this shit. Why was it destined that you had to stay weak? It was so unfair you wished to cry your heart out. 

The last of the powers was used. Pushing the demon's hold on you, you stumbled up and felt thrill run through. It was delicious, but your mind was also beginning to grow hazy. "X-Xiao..." you uttered out. 

The Conqueror of Demons arrived as soon as you called, anxious to apologize for his insensitivity. What he didn't expect to see was a battlefield. A large and strong demon was torn apart to pieces, the iron smell of it so strong, it was gagworthy. Sitting on the pile of bones was you, dark, gruesome scratches decorating your arms and legs. A deep gash was bleeding from your torso and your [e/c] eyes were dimmed; at the same time, they held a crazed look in them. 

His face paled and his body grew cold at the sight. You did the thing he last wanted to happen. Already too far in and consumed by the darkness surrounding your whole life, you were looking at him not with love, but with bloodlust. "I'll kill you, Xiao!" you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

Climbing down, you tried to run to him. But your footsteps halted and you crashed to the ground. Spazzing out as if you had just been electrocuted by lightning, the Vigilant Yaksha slowly approached you, tears streaming down the side of his face. He kneeled down, cradling your head in his lap. "Don't leave me..." He hit the ground in fury. "Dammit! Why didn't you listen to me!?"

Consciousness returned but you were on the brink of death. The wound was deep, but so were the demons. It was raining again, so you forced a small smile out. "I'm weak. It's my fate," you whispered. "At least I won't have to suffer through this darkness any longer. It's over. I quit. You won, my demons. I am yours to keep."

"Shut your mouth," he snarled. The rain had turned into a storm, adding fury into the mix. "Please. You can make it through this. Don't leave me yet. It was going to get better. An era with no more demons to haunt us. You said so yourself." 

"That was just a stupid dream."

"Don't fucking say that," he growled, flinching as if he'd just been slapped. You were supposed to be the optimist here. It meant that this death was real... and that you would accept it with open arms. "It's going to happen. So hold on. Let me find someone to save you."

Your head shook and you winced. "We all learned this since young. We'll die if we let our power consume us. It's impossible and you know it."

"Stop," he choked out, lowering his head until his hair covered his broken expression. "Then don't talk. Save your breath."

You ignored his words. "Thank you... for the crystalfly. Does it look pretty on me?" you murmured.

He heaved out a sob and slowly nodded. "I've never seen anyone more beautiful."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"And I'm sorry."

"I am too."

"Protect... the people... like you always do, my sweet, Vigilant Yaksha." Your voice grew more raspy by the second, for the pain was getting unbearable. 

You fluttered your eyes shut and the pain faded. On the other hand, Xiao's pain grew, the scars and trauma there to haunt him, for a life and infinity.

[kraekat29]

@wannabestarkeysgirl here’s part four! I apologize in advance, this may make you cry:

For the first time in a half a year Ruby looked like a Pogue, she was happy to be in her element once more. 

She sat next to John B in one of the hammocks, this was unusual she’d either be laying in the tree or laying next to JJ in the other hammock. 

Things had changed, a new girl had arrived because of Kiara, she was taking her place it seemed, Ruby rolled her eyes hearing Sage giggle as JJ whispered something in her ear.

 Oh god, the familiar tightness in her chest was back, it felt like someone was dragging a thousand degree knife right down the middle of her heart, she couldn’t breathe.

 Ruby stood up and ran inside the chateau, she quickly piled her hair into a high ponytail and changed her outfit to look more Kook and she ran. 

she ran all the way to Figure Eight, not even thinking about what the others thought of her, ‘Sage Medici.. Why her?? What does she have that I don’t??’ A small part of her kept nagging and nagging, 

a part that was madly in love with her blonde best friend, the part that loved to surf and stay up all night talking about the stars, a part she shoved down so deep she thought it would never return. 

Ruby climbed up the tree and knocked twice on Rafe's window, only when he came over something in his expression was unreadable, “what the hell are you doing here?” he seethed, her eyes went wide, she was confused, 

“Rafe c’mon it's me..” she said and he shook his head, “sorry Routledge but you aren’t anything to me, so get the hell off my property” he said and it all clicked, she still looked too much like herself, even half dolled up. 

Her heart ached, she wanted nothing more than for someone Him to comfort her, “right.. Sorry” she mumbled and turned to go, but as she did he caught the reflection of the ring he’d given her, his mind raced, ‘Butterfly couldn’t be Ruby right??’ He shook his head at the thought and watched her run off into the night. 

***********************************************

She was miserable, she’d been with Rafe for an entire year now but her facade was starting to slip, she was tired of the fancy clothes, the tight curls her hair was always in, she was sick of the champagne and she was SICK of Ward Cameron. 

Ruby sat at the table, listening to Sarah ramble about her latest shopping trip, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, 

“ Butterfly, you know I don't like that” Ward scolded but all Ruby did was smirk and blow smoke in his general direction, 

“of course she knows” Rafe interjected and plucked the cigarette from Ruby’s mouth, putting it out on the ashtray.

 Ruby turned and gave Rafe her most bitchiest smile before she stood up and walked into the courtyard, she cringed in disgust at the silver high heels and fancy red dress she was in, this wasn’t her at all. She heard leaves crunch behind her, and looked over about to scream when she saw JJ but he put her hand over her mouth, “so this is where you’ve been?” he sounded disgusted. 

She shoved his hand away from her mouth, “what does it matter? Shouldn’t you be with Sage?” she bit back, he could parade around all he wanted in fancy clothes so why couldn’t she?  He scoffed and gave her a glare that she quickly returned, Game, Set, Match.

 JJ towered over her and she suddenly felt small, “ we both know its much different than that, at least I don’t lie” he hissed and suddenly her right hand was slapping his cheek, hard, “ go fuck yourself JJ Maybank” her glare was icy, her words even colder. JJ caught her wrist and backed her against the fountain, “

 he’s using you, look what he’s done to you, to us” he said and Ruby scoffed, “ Us? There is no us anymore, not since you ditched me for a good lay” she said and his eyes searched hers, 

“ you’re holding a grudge over Carly?” he sounded amused, “ I’m holding a grudge on you, my supposed best friend who ditches me anytime he can get a good fuck!” she shouted, 

“oh yeah coming from the virgin!” he growled and with one last play she knew how to hurt him, “ I fucked Rafe! So no I’m not the poor little virgin” she said and he dropped her wrist, stepping back, 

“you’re joking..” he said and she shook her head. JJ took another step back, his eyes were unreadable,

 “J..” she whispered and went to grab his hand, “ don’t.. Enjoy your rich boyfriend” he said and walked toward the gate. 

Everything inside Ruby was screaming not to let him walk away, 

to follow him and kiss him until neither of them could breathe, but she stayed frozen in the courtyard, watching him go until Rafe came out, 

“ Are you okay?” he asked and wiped the single tear off her cheek, “yeah.. I’m okay” it was a lie, so many lies surrounded her but all she cared about right now was being curled against Rafe’s side. 

Ruby knew she couldn’t go home now and it pained her, she looked up at him, her devil, she just let her angel walk away,

 even in sunlight darkness was over her, only she wasn’t sad about it anymore, she welcomed the darkness.

[bugabash]

Hold Me While We Fall Chapter 4

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child abuse, domestic abuse, depressed little Plagg and abusive Gabriel!! This chapter is about Plagg's childhood up to when he joins the cadets, there are heavy themes of abuse and graphic descriptions, please be aware of this when reading this chapter! The next chapter will not have this as it will be from when he is away from his father! Also sorry for disappearing lol, I got distracted by drawing :D Please enjoy ^.^

All art is on my insta! Tumblr has shot the quality

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AO3

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Plagg's Backstory Part 1: Tragic Childhood

Edward Phillip Agreste was born in the year 827 during one of the coldest winters the people within the walls had ever experienced. A blizzard raged on as the small, frail boy came into the world earlier than he should have, his hair as black as the night and his eyes a dark green. His mother cradled the sickly child as he cried out into the night, declaring he was a treasure she had waited her whole life for and that she loved him more than life, all while his father watched from a distance. Edward was born in the first year of the marriage between the cruel and feared Commander of the Military Police, Gabriel Agreste and Emilie Agreste.

Being their first born son and the heir, a lot of responsibility fell onto his tiny shoulders as soon as he took his first breath, and with that came his father’s high expectations. Gabriel watched from across the room, watching the frail boy with narrowed eyes.

Emilie looked up and smiled at her husband, “Gabriel, come and hold him.” She said, shifting the crying boy in her arms for her husband to take him. Gabriel approached the bed, a look of disgust on his face. “Isn’t he perfect.” She stated, looking up at Gabriel with love in her green eyes.

“Don’t make me laugh.” He replied in disgust, Emilie’s smile faltering and she pulled the baby closer to her. “Look at that child, he is too sick to survive. I find it hard to believe it’s even mine. I could never make something so… weak.”

“What?” Emilie exclaimed, “how could you say that? He’s our son! Please, Gabriel!” Gabriel glared at the screaming infant before he turned and left, ignoring his wife’s pleas.

From that day, Edward’s father rejected him and openly spoke about his distaste for the boy when in the walls of their home but he had to accept that he was the new heir and so he set extremely high expectations for the boy. As Edward grew up he felt the hatred from his father and endured constant mental and, by the age of four, physical abuse for misbehaving or simply getting too much attention from his mother.

As he grew into a young boy he grew stronger but still struggled at times with his health, spending many nights up coughing in his bed while his mother stroked his hair, singing to him. But even with his poor health he grew rather tall for his age, with lanky arms and legs with a skinny physique, which he discovered was an advantage when he found he loved climbing trees and buildings to escape from his father and the military police. He was known in the town as mischievous and always getting into trouble, which in turn brought on more trouble from his father when he would be at home.

Plagg was sitting at the large dining table a few days before his fifth birthday, eating his dinner in silence sitting across from his mother, poking at the way too big portion in front of him. He hated the family meals, he saw poverty in the city all the time, saw the children at his school who barely ate, so seeing the big meal in front of him made him lose his appetite.

He had a newly black eye and a split lip from a beating from his father for getting caught exploring the military police headquarters earlier in the day, the throbbing a familiar feeling to him now. He looked up at his mother who was quietly eating, her eyes downcast onto her food, purposefully avoiding looking at him. He wondered if she ever questioned his father’s actions towards him or if she spoke up for him when he wasn’t there like she used to, but he had learnt long ago that speaking out to his father resulted in punishment. He remembered the bruises he saw on her when he was smaller, he hated them on her face, remembering the pain he saw he had caused, so he never spoke up to her.

“Edward.” He heard his father’s blunt tone boom across the table, making him flinch and look toward his father who sat at the head of the table, his light brown hair in his usual slicked back style, his piercing blue eyes boring into him causing a cold sweat down his back.

“Yes, father?” He responded, sitting up straight and placing his hands in his lap as he avoided his father’s gaze.

“Your mother is pregnant it seems.” He said bluntly, picking up his cutlery and started cutting up his dinner, his eyes leaving Edward and looking down at his food. Edward’s eyes widened and he looked over at his mother who finally looked at the small boy and smiled, her hands over her stomach, “so you need to stop being such a nuisance and causing so many problems for me.” Edward gripped his hands in his fist tightly, looking down at them, “you will hopefully have a brother, a good and proper boy unlike you,” Edward gulped, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Gabriel, don’t speak to him like that.” Emilie spoke up, Edward’s eyes shooting open and he looked up at his mother in shock, “please.”

“I will talk to him however I want, Emilie.” Gabriel boomed out, “Edward, if it is a boy and he is… a more appealing son he will inherit what you are meant to and will take your place.” Edward gulped, his black spiky hair shading his face, as his eyes moved to his father, he didn’t understand a lot of what was said but he knew he felt hurt and betrayed, “I hope this one isn’t a disappointing mangey stray cat like you.” Edward looked down, he hated being called that. His father told him he was an unlucky black cat all the time, saying he wasn’t even worthy of being called the black sheep of the family. And because other’s had heard his father calling him that, the kids in the city called him that too, which ended up with him getting into a fight over it.

“So,” He spoke up in his soft voice, “I’m going to have a baby brother or sister?” He asked looking up at his mother who smiled at him.

“Yes, dear, you’re going to be a big brother.” She said before standing up and walking over to Plagg, pulling him into her arms as she knelt by his chair. He wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her tight.

“Do not coddle the boy, my love. He is not worth it.” Gabriel said before he started eating his dinner. Plagg gritted his teeth together before pulling away from his mother and ran from her and the table. He felt his eyes hot with tears as he pulled the door open and started running to his room, hearing his mother calling for him. He hated his life, he only knew comfort from his mother and when he was high in a tree or a building. But maybe, being a big brother would change things. Maybe…

Eight months later, Edward stood at the doorway to his mother’s room as the doctor smiled at him, the room was filled with the soft cries of a baby. His mother lay in the bed, her hair drenched and a smile on her face as she cradled the small child. Edward had been woken up that morning to his mother’s screaming and was told she was in labour. Seeing her now, she looked tired but happy. She glanced up and saw him, reaching a hand out to him.

“Edward, come and meet your new baby brother, Adrien.” She said softly, Edward nodded and ran over to her, climbing onto the bed and moving close to her. He looked down at the small baby in her arms, he was bundled up in a green blanket, his small bits of hair a prominent platinum blonde and his little hands in fists. Edward blinked before he reached out and stroked the boy’s head, smiling at him. Adrien opened his eyes and seemed to look directly at Edward, his eyes were green, just like both his and his mother’s. Edward gasped as they locked eyes, Adrien grabbing onto his thumb with one of his small hands, his cries stopping and instead silence filled the air. “He likes you.” His mother whispered with a laugh.

“Hello Adrien.” Edward said softly, his heart skipping a beat and his mind racing. “I promise to be the best big brother ever. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He said confidently. He looked at his mother who was smiling lovingly at them, “it’s a man’s promise.”

Age: 7

Plagg sat on his windowsill looking out over city of Stohess from the giant, eye sore of a fortress he called home. He hated the look of everything here, it was too clean, too fake. He huffed and stood up, curling his toes over the edge of the stone windowsill. His bedroom window was high up, high enough that one misstep and his father would get his wish of him not existing anymore. But he liked it up here, it was free. He smiled and closed his eyes as the wind blew, raising his arms up and imagining he was flying through the air, no cares in the world, forest surrounding him and the sound of nature, not rich snobs complaining about the poor. He felt weightless, free, and-

“Edward!” He heard his mother scream before he was pulled back, her arms wrapped around his small body tightly as she fell back onto the floor. His mother still called him by his actual name and not the name he had stuck with after his little brother Adrien started calling him Plagg when he started speaking. He didn’t mind but he had now grown to hate his real name, it felt too formal.

Plagg blinked and held onto his mother’s arms, looking up at her and meeting her green eyes. They were wide and full of panic as she stared at him. He blinked a few more times before he wriggled out of her arms and sat in front of her, his dark green eyes watching her as he sulked.

“Edward, you can’t do that! What if you had fallen?” She exclaimed as she moved to her knees, reaching out and taking his hands. “You need to stop this! I cannot lose you, do you understand?”

Plagg just looked at her before huffing and pulling his hands away and hugging his knees to his chest. “Who even cares. I know father doesn’t.” He grumbled out, resting his bruised cheek on his knee as he looked away.

His mother sighed before shifting closer, “but I do.” She said reaching out and gently cupping his face and making him look at her. He looked up at her reluctantly before leaning into her warm, accepting touch. “I care more than anyone ever will, because you’re my little lucky black kitten.” Plagg felt his heart jump at the nickname, his mother had started calling him her lucky black cat or kitten since his father had started calling him an unlucky black cat the years before when Plagg had got in trouble again with the military police for climbing buildings and throwing eggs at them. He closed his eyes and felt his lip tremble before he crawled forward into his mother’s loving arms. He curled up in her lap as she held him, stroking his unruly black hair.

“Why does father hate me?” He asked softly, “what did I do?” He felt tears filling his eyes and he never wanted to leave his mother’s arms.

“He doesn’t hate you.” She whispered softly, kissing his forehead and twisting one of the locks that stood up on his head. “He just doesn’t see how special you are.” She cupped his face and smiled lovingly down at him, “he doesn’t see the bright light inside of you that I see.”

“But… I just break everything I touch.” He grumbled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “Father said that I am more of burden than anything.” He looked away. “He wishes I wasn’t born.”

She took a deep breath and leant down and kissed his forehead again, “don’t listen to him, he is just bitter. Bitter people have the worst opinions on others because they don’t even like themselves.” He looked up at her, blinking away his tears. “You were my first ever treasure in life, my black haired beauty.” She said with a beaming smile, swooping him up in her arms and standing up, walking over to his bed and lying them down, snuggling him close, “you came into this world screaming your lungs out, so vocal and opinionated and you wanted everyone to know.” She chuckled, Plagg snickering softly, “and when I first held you I felt so happy, I felt like I was almost complete, your love filling a giant hole in my life.”

“Almost?” Plagg asked hesitantly, the fear of being rejected by his mother too overtaking him.

“Well of course,” She said softly, stroking a strand of hair out of his face, “and then five years later I was made fully complete when I held both you and your brother in my arms.” Plagg’s fear disappeared just as it arrived, smiling up at her. “You two complete me, you make me whole and my love for you will be with you forever.”

“Do you promise?” Plagg asked softly, his eyes begging her.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” She replied, crossing over her heart and smiling at him. He smiling his Cheshire cat smile that he was known for, usually it was for mischief, but now it was filled with love. He buried himself in his mother’s arms, nuzzling against her chest, breathing in her scent and feeling her love. He could stay there forever.

If only he could have. But reality took over and soon he was back in his father’s office for something he had done, he wasn’t even entirely sure what exactly. He wore a bandage stuck to his cheek over a cut on his cheek bone under his black eye, a fresh cut on his nose and a split lip from the hits he had just received. He stood there trembling, his hands in fists by his side as he stared up at his father. He was confused and his heart hurt, why was he treated like this? Why? What did he do?

“Father…” He trembled out, Gabriel turning and looking at him as he frowned, wiping his cane with a handkerchief. “Why do you hate me?” He asked genuinely, “I don’t understand!”

“Why?” Gabriel questioned with a raised brow as he approached the boy, kneeling in front of him, Plagg’s eyes widening in fear. “Because from the moment you were born, even before that, you have brought me nothing but problems and when I look at you, I see a failed experiment.” Plagg gulped, “I hate you, because you should never have survived, and now your disgraceful actions and you just breathing brings shame to me and the Agreste name.” Plagg backed off, Gabriel smiling wickedly, “does that answer your question, you mangey cat?” Plagg gulped before turning and running from the office, breathing heavily and regretting even asking him. The words echoing his mind.

“You should never have survived.” Well, that just made Plagg more determined than ever to survive. He ran as fast as he could as he sobbed, he would escape this life. Nothing was going to stop him, not even his father.

Age: 9

“You mangy street cat!” Gabriel boomed before he struck his eldest son across the face with his cane, sending him to the floor with a yelp, cradling his wounded cheek. He gritted his teeth and glared up at his father, his eyes wide, his dark green eyes small and cat like as they glared at him, his teeth bared and his hands clenching into fists.

“Stop it!” Plagg yelled, grabbing one of the fire prongs from the fireplace and rolling to his feet, using the lessons his father demanded he did now being used against him. “Don’t touch me!”

“You dare bare a weapon against me after the shit you caused today?” Gabriel spat back, disgust all over his face. His greying brown hair was unruly, unlike the usual comb back he had, he was in his pyjamas and his expression was evil. They were in his office after Military Police had shown up with a handcuffed Plagg who was caught trying to escape out the main gate in the middle of the night. After that he was dragged to his father’s office and well, now here he was, nose bleeding, a pain in his side and a swollen cheek.

“I haven’t done anything! Nothing! I don’t deserve this!” He screamed, tightening his grip, “I haven’t done anything to you! All I did was be born! I didn’t ask to be born!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face.

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Gabriel spat back, raising his cane again as a threat.

“NO!” Plagg screamed desperately, “I don’t get it! Why? Why do you keep hitting me?” He felt tears stinging his cheek, “I’m a KID! I’m just a kid!”

“You are nothing more than a poison on this family!” His father responded.

“Says who? You?” His voice cracked as he screeched, “I’ve done nothing, father! I… I just wanted you to love me!”

“Love you?” Gabriel questioned before he scoffed, “I wish you were dead.”

He hated this man so much, he saw how evil he was, he was never loved by him, always looked at like he put a disgusting taste in his father’s mouth, so now, images of stabbing him with the fire prong came to mind and he felt the rage to put the action behind the thoughts. He felt the destruction in his body, he wanted to destroy everything. But then he saw images of his mother and he stopped, freezing in his place and it was just long enough for his father to step forward and smack him across the face with his stick, black taking over.

A while later he had come too, lying on the cold stone corridor outside his father’s study, he must have just been thrown out of the room by his father, his clothes cold and wet from his blood. He winced and slowly got to his feet, gripping his side and making his way to his room slowly to clean himself off. He limped up the stairs, passing his younger brother’s room and closing the door to his own. He leant against the door and stared at the floor in the dark. He wanted to cry, he thought it would be a natural response in a situation like this but, for him, this was normal.

So instead, he limped over to the sink in the corner of his room and started running the water, stripping his wet shirt off and throwing it into a bucket near him. He sighed and looked at himself in the mirror, the moon shining in on him and lighting up his bruised and bloody face, his freckles standing out against the redness, his eyes dancing down to his skinny physique. He had a giant bruise over his left side, an old wound having opened up and crusted over while he was unconscious. He gently cleaned it, wrapping his torso in a bandage with practiced ease. His lower face was covered in crusted and fresh blood, a weeping cut on his swollen cheek and a small cut over his eyebrow. He hissed as he dabbed it with a wet towel, this was always the worst part. He was a master at cleaning wounds and bandaging himself up now after years of abuse from his father, hell he had mastered it by the time Adrien was born.

“Plagg?” He jumped and spun around, eyes wide with fear of another beating, spotting the big, green eyes in the shadows on his bed. He let out his breath in relief and relaxed as he saw his four year old brother crawl over his bed and look at him as he knelt in the middle, rubbing his eyes. “You have a booboo, should I get mommy?” He asked in that innocent voice that always made Plagg smile. He was dressed in a matching green long sleeve pyjama set, his blonde hair unruly and sticking up in odd ways, unlike his usually perfectly combed hair.

“Nah, I’m okay. Your big brother just was out exploring and got into some trouble.” He said softly, walking over and kneeling in front of the bed as Adrien sat on the edge. He shielded his brother from his father’s cruelty, making sure he was protected and didn’t have the childhood he had, filled with abuse and hate. He smiled at the small boy, he must have snuck into Plagg’s room looking for him and just fallen asleep again. “It’s late, you should be asleep kiddo.”

“I came looking for you.” Adrien replied as he rubbed his eyes, “I heard yelling and got scared. But you weren’t here.” Adrien blinked up at Plagg before reaching out and patting his cheek gently.

“I’m sorry, kid, but you know even if I’m not here that you’re safe in my room.” Plagg said with a smile, even though it hurt and it pulled on the cut on his lip, he ignored it. “Let me just get cleaned up and we can go to sleep, okay? I’m assuming you’re camping with me tonight?”

Adrien grinned and nodded, clambering to his feet and bouncing on the bed, “Yes, yes, yes!” He said each word on each bounce, spinning and bouncing as Plagg laughed and went back to the sink to clean himself off properly.

He watched Adrien in the mirror, smiling and unscathed, a boy who could act his age and hadn’t matured so young from darkness. That was another reason why he would take his father’s beatings, because then Adrien would be safe. He would kill that man if he ever laid a finger on Adrien. He didn’t even feel the pain anymore, determination filling his body as he finished up, placing his bandages over his small wounds, glad he had the sticky one to keep them on his skin. He pulled on a dark grey shirt he found on the floor and limped over to his bed that he always thought was way too big for just one person.

He climbed in and Adrien hurriedly crawled over, climbing under the covers and snuggling close to his brother, Plagg smiling and hugging his baby brother protectively. He lay there, his arm tucked under his head as he looked into the darkness, the light glow from the moon comforting to him, as well as his baby brother gripping onto his shirt and humming softly.

“Plagg?” He heard Adrien say softly, snuggling into Plagg’s chest.

“Yeah?” Plagg replied softly.

“Can you tell me the story again?” Adrien asked softly, lifting his small black cat toy and bouncing the legs on Plagg’s chest like it was walking.

“Sure.” Plagg responded, rolling over and looking up at the roof, chuckling at his little brother using him as part of his imagination. “There once was a little black kitten who nobody wanted. They said he brought bad luck with him because of how he looked. The people would throw things, chase him away and would blame any misfortune on him.” Plagg said softly, Adrien resting the cat on Plagg’s chest now, listening intently. “The black cat never understood why people didn’t like him or why they mistreated him, he couldn’t help how he was or looked, all he wanted was to make friends and to be part of a family.”

“Because he didn’t have one.” Adrien added.

“That’s right, he didn’t have a family anymore, he ran away from his family.” Plagg responded, “and so, for years the sad and lonely black cat wandered the earth, hated and misunderstood, until one day he met a group of other black cats all living together, and as he approached them cautiously, expecting to be hit or swatted away, they all watched him.” Adrien yawned and snuggled up closer, “then, they all burst into joyful laughter, welcoming their fellow black cat. Now, the little black cat was shocked, no one had treated him this welcomingly in his entire life. “But… I’m different, people don’t like me.” The cat told them, and they all said together, “No one likes us but we like you!” And so, he started to live his days with his new friends, and the insults and the hatred towards him was shouldered by everyone who was with him now.”

“He lived his days laughing and doing what he enjoyed with his friends, he was happy, but he felt like something was missing, and so one day he went out. He was walking along, hiding in the shadows to avoid those who hated him, when he came across a little ladybug.” Adrien squeaked softly, Plagg smiled more knowing this was his favourite part. “This small, little ladybug was sat on a rose, watching the cat. The cat slowly approached it and sniffed at it,” Plagg made the sniffing noises, Adrien laughing sleepily, “and the ladybug jumped into the air in fright. The black cat sighed, his tail falling as he realised even ladybugs didn’t like him. But then, the ladybug landed softly on the tip of his nose. He was in shock, watching as the ladybug stared back at him with big black eyes. The two creatures stared at each other, one was viewed as good luck while the other bad. They just stared before the cat laughed into the night, asking the ladybug why it hadn’t flown away. The ladybug simply pressed a kiss on the feline’s nose before flying away.” Plagg glanced down and saw Adrien’s heavy eyes drooping slowly. “And the black cat found what he was missing. He realised he wasn’t bad luck, and he didn’t care if others didn’t accept him. Because he had been granted something special from the ladybug.” He smiled and pulled the blanket over them, settling in as he heard his brother snoring softly. He reached his hand out towards the roof, his smile falling and his brows furrowing. “A lucky charm.” He whispered, clenching his fist shut.

---

The next morning Plagg stayed in his room after their mother came for Adrien, he would have to lay low for a while to make sure that no one saw the extent of his injuries for a little while. He knew the consequences if people started asking questions, not that they would when his father was the commander of the military police.

Plagg huffed and rolled onto his side, curled up in a ball and squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted to escape, needed to, wanted to disappear. He felt like a rat in a cage in this house, he had to run away, escape somehow.

That’s when he heard the whoosh outside his window. He gasped and sat up, scrambling to his feet and running to the window, looking out and spotted the people responsible. His eyes widened and he stared at them with awe. He saw the green cloaks billowing behind them, but what stood out was the wings of freedom standing proud on the cloak. The scouts. Plagg watched in wonder as they flew through the air, releasing their chords and getting higher and higher. He jumped onto his windowsill and with memorised movements he climbed up onto the roof, clambering up until he was at the highest he could get, clinging onto the one beam as he watched them in the distance grapple to the wall, running up the fifty metre wall like it was nothing. He watched with amazement and wonder if that’s where he should be, on the wall, he should be in the air, flying. He needed his wings of freedom.

“Hey.” He spun around and spotted a tall man landing behind him, a scout with light brown hair and kind hazel-green eyes, a scar over his right eye and tanned skin. “You okay, kid?” He asked, genuine concern on his face. He seemed kind, Plagg could tell, his voice calming and almost fatherly. He knelt down and was examining Plagg’s face, frowning at the bruises and cuts on his swollen face he realised a second too late. He had messed up, someone had seen his injuries, and not just anyone, a scout.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to see the scouts and my window doesn’t have the best view.” Plagg responded, standing up a little taller, internally screaming over the fact he was meeting a real soldier and not some asshole from the military police.

“Wait, you climbed all the way up here?” The man asked in surprise.

“Yup, I can climb anything! It’s all about body movement.” He said proudly, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

The man chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, I bet you can, but I bet you can’t climb that.” He said before pointing at the wall.

Plagg looked at the wall and sighed, “Yeah, but one day I will!” He exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists. “One day, I’m joining the scouts and I will be free! I will make it to the top of the wall and get far away from this shithole.” He looked back at the man with a determined grin.

“Oh, a future scout, huh?” He asked, resting on his knees. “You realise how dangerous it is being a scout?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“No more dangerous than here.” Plagg replied with a huff, sitting down and crossing his legs, gripping his ankles and frowning as he felt his cheek throb.

“Is that so? Did your dad do that to your face?” The man asked, Plagg’s eyes widening and fear turning his blood cold.

“N-no!” He exclaimed, looking up at the man with wide eyes, “I-I’m sorry, I have to go!” He said as he scrambled to his feet and started towards the ledge to get back to his room.

The man blinked and jumped up, “hey! Wait!” He called out, reaching out and grabbing Plagg’s arm. “You’re Edward Agreste, aren’t you?”

Plagg looked back at him, his black bangs falling over his eyes, “That’s not my name! My name is Plagg.” He said stubbornly.

“Okay, Plagg, did your father do that to you?” He asked softly, Plagg looking away.

“I’m fine. I brought it on myself.” He replied, feeling the man tightening his grip on his arm slightly. “I’ll be fine, I’m not a little kid.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I can see that, but you still shouldn’t have to deal with this. You certainly aren’t little, but you are a kid, and no kid deserves… that.” The man replied softly. “My name is captain Henry Wayzz, but everyone calls me Wayzz.” He said with a gentle smile, Plagg eyed the man, not sure how to react. Not many people treated him this kindly. The military police treated him like vermin and the people avoided him, not letting their children play with him in fear they will become like him. “Plagg is an interesting name.” He said, releasing Plagg’s arm as the boy turned towards him.

“I don’t like Edward, my baby brother called me Plagg when he first started talking and I prefer it. Edward is too…” He tried to think of the word as he sat down, Wayzz doing the sat and resting back against the chimney wall.

“Too Agreste?” Wayzz asked with a raised brow. Plagg nodded, rubbing his arm and looking away. “I bet your dad doesn’t like the name, bet that’s another way to rebel.” Plagg smiled mischievously, Wayzz chuckling low. “Very clever. I have met your father before, he doesn’t like me.” Wayzz said nonchalantly, fixing his cape and smirking at Plagg who just blinked, his fascination with this man growing with every word. “He didn’t like that I questioned him, do you question him too?”

Plagg gulped before nodding, “he says I’m bad luck and a poison on the family, he calls me a black cat or a mangy stray cat.” Plagg answered, hugging his arms close, “my mother says to ignore him, but he hates me.” He said, Wayzz’s lip curled in disgust, “he always has.”

“Do you know why?” Wayzz asked gently, Plagg shaking his head. “Well, I think you will like being in the scouts then.” He said with a smile, “you seem to be a resilient little man, I hope to still be here when you join.”

Plagg looked at the man and felt a pang in his chest at the idea of the man dying all of a sudden, “you can’t die!” Plagg exclaimed as he clambered to his knees, “because when I join you can be my captain!” Wayzz chuckled at that, standing up to his feet and smiling down at the boy, offering his hand to the boy.

“Well, I would be very honoured to be your captain, young Plagg.” He said with a proud smile, Plagg looking up at him in awe, he felt hope in his heart as he looked up at this man smiling down at him, his cloak blowing in the wind. He saw a future when looking at this man that wasn’t stuck in the fortress and being free from his father.

He took the hand and stood to his feet, grinning as he stood tall like the man and grinned, “Come on, I will help you down.” He said before scooping Plagg up, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his handles, Plagg watching as he slipped two fingers into the grip and clicked some buttons, a grapple shooting off and suddenly they were in the air. Plagg gasped and gripped onto the man tightly, his eyes wide and the wind blowing his spikey hair into an even more messy state. He looked around as the world around him flew past him, his stomach lifting and turning, the feeling incredible. He felt free, his grip loosening and his one arm lifting into the air, the wind putting pressure and pulling a laugh from him. It was incredible, he felt almost complete, just how her mother described it. In the air, all his problems seemed small, stuck to the ground as he flew.

But soon he was on the ground, Wayzz placing him down and smiling down at him, holstering his grips and opening Plagg’s front door, looking down and blinking as he met Plagg’s smile fell and a new frightened expression taking over and wide eyes.

“F-father.” He said, looking in and staring at his father who was in his full military uniform, his military police badge standing out, his hair combed back and his small staff he would use on Plagg held behind his back as he walked. He stepped out and glared down at Plagg before looking at Wayzz who eyed him, stepping in front of Plagg slightly.

“Commander Agreste.” Wayzz greeted with a nod, “I have just met your son, he is an incredible young man.” Wayzz said with a smile, “you should be proud, he will be a fine soldier one day, a scout it seems. His climbing skills have really impressed me!”

Gabriel glared at Plagg who hid behind Wayzz even more, gripping his cloak. “I see, but Edward will not be joining the scouts.” Gabriel said, frowning at Wayzz, “Captain, was it?”

“Yes sir, Captain Henry Wayzz.” Wayzz responded.

“Well, Captain, Edward will not be joining the scouts, that would be unfitting for our family, he will follow in the Agreste line and enter the military police. I have already decided on his post.” Plagg blinked, his eyes wide.

“What?” Plagg exclaimed, stepping out and clenching his fists. “No way! I’m not joining the military police!” He growled, glaring up at his father. “They suck! They’re all bullies who pick on others!”

“Silence, Edward!” Gabriel hissed, bringing the cane from behind his back, Plagg wincing and hiding behind Wayzz more who was glaring at the Commander. “No one wants to hear from the likes of you.”

“Sir, are you responsible for the injuries on your son?” Wayzz asked confidently, Plagg panicking slightly and gripping his cloak even tighter.

“Why would you ask such a thing?” Gabriel asked in disgust, “no, I am not, my son is a mischievous boy, he is always getting into trouble and coming home with new cuts and bruises.” Gabriel lied expertly, if Plagg hadn’t told Wayzz he was sure that he would have believed his father, a fear in the back of his mind that Wayzz would believe him. “I would never lay my hand on my son.”

Wayzz nodded before looking down at the terrified child hiding behind him, Plagg was staring at the ground, his nails digging into the palms of his hand through the fabric of the scout’s cloak, his eyes wide and sweat building on his skin. “I see, well, I think I will pop by and check up on young Plagg here, help him decide on his future, as it is just that.” He said staring back at Gabriel with a smile, “his future.”

“Plagg? Oh for… Edward, stop telling people that stupid name.” Gabriel growled, Plagg hiding more and wincing at the harsh tone.

“S-sorry father.” Plagg muttered, Gabriel glaring at him even more. “I’m sorry.”

“Get inside, no one needs to see you when you look like this.” Gabriel growled before reaching over to grab Plagg, Wayzz grabbing him by the wrist before he could, his eyes narrowed and his face stone as Gabriel looked at Wayzz in shock.

“Sir, I would advise you not grab your son in that manner, especially with his injuries, or ever in fact.” Wayzz said, Plagg looked up at him and blinked, he was tall, the same height as his father and for the first time Plagg saw someone who was stronger and more intimidating than his father. Gabriel stared back in shock before pulling his arm from Wayzz’s grip, glaring at Plagg before he straightened his jacket. “I kill titans for a job, sir, have you ever even seen a titan?” Wayzz questioned, “so, you do not scare me, and you cannot bully me like you do your son.”

“Enough of this. How dare you speak to me like this! I will be speaking to your commander.” Gabriel said in disgust, “Edward, get inside.” He said before he entered his carriage, other military police soldiers watching with wide eyes.

Plagg watched in shock, his mouth hanging open as he stood frozen like a statue, gripping the captains cloak tightly still. “Woah…” He breathed out, “No one’s ever stood up to him before.” He managed out dumbfoundedly, staring back up at the man who was grinning down at him. “You really are like a super soldier!”

Wayzz laughed and knelt down, placing a hand on Plagg’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “I’m no super soldier,” he laughed, “I just said what someone should have said a long time ago.” Plagg smiled at him, he had waited for someone to say that since he was three years old. Wayzz chuckled and gently scuffed under Plagg’s chin with his knuckle, “I think you are the super soldier, kid.” Plagg blinked at him, “you have been through a lot, so keep your chin up, okay?”

Plagg nodded, letting go of his cloak and standing up straight, “yes, sir!” He said proudly, Wayzz chuckling softly. “I will come and visit you again soon, and I look forward to seeing you in the scouts, kid.” He said before he stood up, “now, go on in, and if he ever lays a hand on you again, you send me a letter.”

“But how will I know where to send it?” Plagg asked curiously, stepping into his house and looking up at the man.

“Look on your windowsill when you get back into your room, okay? I will leave a secret address to send it to.” He said before they both turned when they heard a high pitched giggle, blonde hair bobbing on the stairs.

“Plagg!” Adrien screeched excitedly, running over with his hands in the air and jumped, Plagg catching him and hitching him on his hip, smiling at his baby brother. Adrien patted his cheek before looking at Wayzz. “Who are you?” He asked curiously, big eyes looking up at him.

Wayzz chuckled and leant down, shaking Adrien’s small hand, “hello, my name is Wayzz, what’s your name.”

“My name is Adrien and I’m four!” Adrien said with a big grin, his green eyes sparkling, holding out four fingers. “You’re tall! Why do you have a scar on your face?” Adrien asked with no embarrassment, pointing at Wayzz face.

“Adrien, you can’t ask people that.” Plagg lectured, “sorry, this is my baby brother, he’s overly friendly.” Plagg said to Wayzz who just laughed.

“Ah, the one who famously named you! Wayzz said with a grin, “It’s been a while since I have been around children, so thank you. You have reminded me just how important it is to make sure you are safe.” Wayzz said as he straightened up. “I must go, take your brother in and stay safe.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his grips, “It was an honour to meet you, young Plagg, and you young Adrien.” Plagg smiled up at him, holding his younger brother close. “You look after your brother, at the end of the day it is you two against the world, understand?” Plagg nodded, smiling down at Adrien who was chewing on Plagg’s collar, watching with big eyes. “Oh, and Plagg, I don’t think you’re bad luck, or ‘mangy’.” Plagg blinked up at him, “you have a little brother who loves you and I can tell that you are his idol. I think you’re very lucky, and very unique. Never forget that.” Plagg smiled at that and nodded. Wayzz ruffled his hair, looking into Plagg’s eyes. “You didn’t deserve what has happened to you, and one day, I promise, you will be free.” Plagg clung to the words, desperate to hear them forever, he had been waiting for Wayzz to appear he realised. He gave him confidence.

“Thank you, sir!” Plagg puffed out his chest, “I will see you soon!” He said and grinned widely, “I will make you proud!”

Wayzz smiled before he ruffled Plagg’s unruly, spikey black locks, “you already have, kid.” He said before he winked and released his grapple, flying off.

“Plagg?” Adrien asked, Plagg looking down at his younger sibling, “can we go play?” He asked hopefully.

Plagg smiled and hugged his brother tight, his whole world seeming brighter and he didn’t feel as trapped. “Of course, kid.” Plagg said before he let Adrien down, “better go hide, I’ll count to 20!” He said, watching his brother run off as he laughed, closing the door behind him with a smile.

Age: 14

Plagg lay on his bed as a thunderstorm raged on outside his window, the rain pounding against the glass and the flashes of lightning lighting up the dark, cold room. He was lying on his stomach with his arms under his chin, watching the water drip into his basin across the room, his eyes dark and his cheek throbbing from the bruises that were starting to form on the right side of his face. He had received it from his father the day before, a painful gash over his right eyebrow and a giant bruise over the right side of his ribs and one down his spine. He had got into trouble because he had evaded his father’s solders, climbing up a building and hiding from them after beating three of the military police recruits to a bloody pulp for picking on some of the poorer people in the less sightly districts of Stohess. He didn’t care that he got hit for it, it was worth it. The soldier’s deserved it.

Plagg was now fourteen and had grown strong as well as tall, his jaw slowly growing more defined and his lip starting to show sign of facial hair. He had grown into a handsome young man who was extremely skilled in martial arts and swordsmanship, his tired appearance and most of the time laid back personality making other’s think he wasn’t much of a threat, which he loved. It meant that when he would beat up those who deserved it, it was even more satisfying. Wayzz didn’t agree with his fighting but he understood that it was to help people, but he would tell him off none the less.

He huffed and rolled onto his back, the skin on his bare chest gaining goosebumps from the cold. Plagg’ body was littered with scars, some faded and some more recent, marks from years of abuse from his father and from falling from high places when he was out. He hated seeing himself in the mirror all the same, his body covered with bad memories that brought a foul taste to his mouth. Scars didn’t bother him, hell he was so used to them more than wounds at this point, it was the fact he was just fourteen and had more than anyone he had seen.

He was replaying the plan in his head, over and over, he had already sent the letter to Wayzz, and he should have them just before it was time for him to leave. It was almost time, Plagg had endured enough and had perfected this plan after countless failed attempts over the years. But now this was his final chance, he had put it off for a year now but he couldn’t anymore. He had to escape and get to Shiganshina to meet Wayzz, to join the cadets with his help and get away from the hell that was his life.

He knew he had to get out of Stohess the week before during his fourteenth birthday when his father requested Plagg to join him in his office with Adrien, something that had never happened with Adrien there. He remembered the panic as he entered to find Adrien standing in front of their father’s desk already, hands behind his back and the usual sad expression he wore around their father that was so unlike his usual happy appearance. While Plagg was subjected to emotional and physical abuse from since before he could remember from Gabriel, Adrien was put under so much more pressure and treated coldly by Gabriel but never had a hand laid on him. Plagg made sure of that. After their mother died two years ago the abuse to both of them increased, Gabriel turning most of his attention on making Adrien the “perfect son”, all while making sure Plagg didn’t even have a place at the table to eat most of the time.

Plagg gulped and walked into the far too clean office that he spent many nights being subjected to horrific beats and turmoil, glaring at his father before he stood in front of the desk, slightly in front of Adrien protectively. Adrien was a small boy, he always had been since he was born, Plagg protected him in any way possible and was always giving him the love he wished he had as a child. Adrien gulped and moved towards his brother, easily hiding behind Plagg’s arm as they stood there, his hair combed perfectly and his clothes ironed and well fitted, unlike Plagg’s second hand, tatty clothes that nine times out of ten had a few holes in them.

“You called, father?” Plagg spoke up, his voice deeper now from puberty but still cracked in fear of what would happen to not him, but to Adrien.

“It is your fourteenth birthday.” Gabriel stated bluntly as if Plagg didn’t already know, not looking up from the papers he was scribbling on, “despite my efforts it seems your brother cannot actually take your place as the heir. So,” He looked up, looking at the two confused brothers, “you will be joining the cadets in the inner wall and will place in the top ten,” Plagg blinked, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, “then you will be joining the military police to follow in my footsteps like all first born Agreste men do. And if you do not follow my instructions I will ship you off to the worst districts where they are known for butchering the military police.” Plagg wasn’t usually shocked by his father anymore, but the fact he would dispose of him to gain what he wanted was… next level.

Adrien whimpered and hid behind Plagg, wrapping his arms around his waist and clinging to him, his face buried in his back. “No! Please, father! Don’t send him away!” Adrien begged.

“Silence, Adrien, this is a similar future for you, you will also be joining the cadets when you reach fourteen and will join the military police too, but I do not doubt that you will live up to my expectations, because you are my son.”

“So am I.” Plagg stated in a blunt voice, glaring at the man he called father.

“You, Edward, are not my son. You are just someone who unfortunately I cannot get rid of, do not mock me by saying you are my son.” Gabriel said before he stood up, “either way, no matter how I feel I have to follow tradition and so,” he sighed, grabbing a black wooden box and approached the boys, Plagg shielding Adrien more. Gabriel handed Plagg the box who looked at it curiously, he glancing up at his father before he opened it and found a silver, thick band signet ring. “I didn’t want to give this to you, you aren’t worthy of it that’ for sure, but your mother made me promise. It is a tradition for the first born Agreste boy to get this on his fourteenth birthday, and so now you have it.”

Plagg blinked at the ring before looking up at his father who was glaring at him, he met Gabriel’s eyes for a few seconds too long and knew it was a mistake, seeing the slap before it made contact. Adrien cried out and clung to Plagg more as he stumbled, cupping his cheek and gripping the box in the other.

“Don’t look at me like that, you mangey street cat.” Gabriel spat, teeth bared in disgust. “Now, both of you leave.” Gabriel said before walking back to his desk, Plagg grabbing Adrien by the underarm and pulled him out, hate growing in his chest. He knew then that he had to escape, his only regret was not being able to take Adrien with him.

Plagg sighed and sat up on his bed, looking down at the ring on his finger as he remembered everything, he hated that Adrien had seen that. Adrien was the one thing that brought doubt to his whole plan, he hated that he was leaving his brother behind but he knew that his father never laid his hands on Adrien and with Plagg gone he could inherit everything and have a better future. He hoped. He had already placed the letter in Adrien’s room, and had spent as much time with him that he could knowing that it could be the last time he saw him. Adrien could survive this world, Plagg couldn’t. And he knew that.

He got up and walked over to his dresser, his black long sleeved shirt folded on top of his too big dark green hoodie Wayzz had given him to wear under his cloak. He felt the fabric and smiled, he had never received clothes this new before, he pulled them both on and looked in the mirror, the candlelight flickering against his skin. He stared at his reflection and smiled, he saw the same kid he had seen for fourteen years but he also saw someone who was about to be free. He ruffled his spikey hair, grinning mischievously. He was excited, he felt lightning through his veins and he just wanted to leave now but he knew he had to wait just a little longer. He walked over to his desk where his bag lay open, all his supplies neatly packed with the paper’s Wayzz sent, hidden in his clothes. He gulped as he looked at everything he would own from tonight from this house, all his memories and everything from this life fitting into one bag, he had a few family sketches of Adrien and of his mother and he had stolen a bunch of cheese from the kitchen for the road and a scarf his mother wore hidden under everything. He would hug it when he was having one of his low stages, it smelt of her and he could close his eyes and picture her arms around him, stroking his hair and fighting his nightmares away. He would never leave that. He zipped up the bag and felt the hairs on his neck stand up and his jaw clenched, his body freezing and panic sunk deep into his soul.

He slowly turned and met his father’s piercing blue eyes from the doorway, he hadn’t even heard his father come in. He was in his uniform and his grey hair was slick back like usual, that damned cane in his hand. “F-father…” Plagg said before gulping, his father never came up to his room, he was always called to wherever his father was, usually the office. He couldn’t even remember the last time his father had been in his room. Plagg gulped again and looked around, thanking every god there was that he had spent the afternoon cleaning it for his departure, the last thing he needed was a beating for a messy room.

Gabriel took a deep breath before he looked around at the room, Plagg’s room was quite large, a double bed in the corner with a rug on the floor, a desk by his window with a candle lit on it and a large dresser in the corner by his sink and mirror. It wasn’t anything fancy but he knew that a lot of kids grow up sharing beds with their parents so he was grateful. It was usually a mess with clothes around and Adrien said it stunk of cheese which Plagg would argue was the best smell possible.

Gabriel walked over to the bed and looked at the dark turquoise colour, eyes falling on the black cat doll that his mother had made Plagg who in turn gave it to Adrien when he was younger. Adrien had grown out of toys and now it lived in Plagg’s room as a comfort to remember his mother. He glanced at the small stuffed toy nervously, fearful as to what Gabriel would do to it.

“I never understood why Emilie made you that stupid thing.” He said, tapping the cane on the floor before he looked over at Plagg, who was standing tall, his fists clenched and his jaw tight. “Oh unclench, I am here to talk.” He said with a roll of his eyes, sitting on the bed with a sigh and resting his hands on the cane. “I know you hate me, and I couldn’t give a shit that you do. But, unfortunately for both of us, you have to represent this family. And, so you will need to be on your best behaviour when you are in the military, especially the cadets.” Gabriel said, Plagg watching him carefully. “I will be getting daily reports and if I find out you have been slacking off or messing things up like usual I will give them permission to punish you as I would.” Plagg gulped, he didn’t even want to imagine what the military police would do to him if they got hold of him after years of tormenting them. “Do you understand?”

Plagg nodded, he may as well play the part, because as of tonight he would be a missing person and wouldn’t have to deal with his father again. If he played this right he could come out unscathed, but he needed to keep his cool.

Gabriel just sighed and stood up, glancing at the bag, “are you packing accordingly?” He questioned, to which Plagg nodded again, angering his father for not speaking. “Speak, you mangey street cat!” Gabriel yelled, raising his cane, “why can’t you be more like me or your brother! You are such a disappointment!”

Plagg stared at him, in disbelief that this was the man who he called father and who was the one who made him, how could such evil even create life, he had been tormented by this man for all his life, all because he was born. He never did anything to his father, all he did was exist and that was enough of a reason to this man to beat his own son. Plagg hated him, he wanted to destroy him, wanted to make him pay and to watch him crumble into ash. He ground his teeth, his eyes going dark and he caught the cane before it hit him, glaring up at his father through his loose strands of hair, every beating and every telling off giving him power as he faced his abuser.

“I would rather die than be like you!” He growled, Gabriel staring at him in disbelief, eyes darting from the hand on the cane and then back to Plagg who gripped it tight, his gaze cold enough to freeze a sauna. “I will never be as low as you, and you will always be just a sad, abusive old man high on power who only ever loved himself.” Plagg felt power in his words, he felt weight being lifted off his shoulders and as he stood there, feeling taller with every word, he saw the shock on his father’s face. “I feel sorry for you, I feel sorry for Adrien and I to have to have you for a father, and I feel sorry for the military police to have a fucker like you running it! If the titans ever did get in we are all screwed!” He was screaming now, hot, angry tears in his eyes. And with every word he saw the anger grow in his father’s eyes. “I hate you! I fucking hate y-” before he could finish his sentence a hand back hit him across the face and sent him to the floor with a grunt, blood splattering on the stone floor from his nose.

He coughed and cupped his nose, blood covering his hands pretty quickly, his new hoodie now decorated in his blood. He looked up in fear as his father stood over him, a new evil in his eyes and in that moment Plagg knew if he wasn’t leaving tonight that this man would kill him eventually.

It was thirty minutes later, he was curled up on the floor, his eye swollen shut, his body was on fire from the pain and he lay in a puddle of his own blood. His lip was swollen and his nose was still bleeding slightly, a gash over his right cheek under his blackening swollen eye and small minor cuts decorating his freckled skin. He sobbed softly, hugging his arms close to his body, hearing the door close across the room, Gabriel finally satisfied with the punishment.

Plagg whimpered and slowly pushed up to sitting, blood dripping from his hair onto the floor, a long strand of bloody drool falling from his lower lip. He sniffed and gently wiped his nose and mouth on the back of his hand. He grunted as he slowly crawled to his sink, gripping the edge and pulling himself to standing. He looked in the mirror, his vision through his one good eye blurry and he felt like he could pass out at any second. He had to get a hold of himself. He looked down at himself and saw he was covered in his own blood, his heart sinking as he stared at his clothes. He cursed and slowly peeled his hoodie off, biting his lip to stop from crying out in pain. He held the hoodie in his hands and watched as his tears fell and hit the material. It was probably ruined, but he was sure Wayzz would have a solution.

He sniffed and wiped his eyes again, looking at himself again and saw his baggy long sleeved back shirt had survived mainly unscathed. He met his eyes and glared, determination filling his heart and he was ready. It was time. He pushed off the sink and headed to his bag, his adrenaline kicking in as he stuffs the blood covered clothing into the bag and grabbed his dark brown cloak from his chair. He pulled his windows open and stared out at the pouring rain, he would need to climb down without injuring himself more. It would be a challenge but he had practiced for just this. He looked back, spotting the black cat on the floor where his father had thrown it during the altercation, his heart hurting. He walked over and slowly picked it up, gripping it tightly as he looked at it.

He looked up and felt doubt for a second, before he took a deep breath, the pain in his ribs pushing him on. He had to leave, Adrien would be better off as the future head, he would be okay. He stuffed the stuffed cat into his bag and climbed onto the windowsill, lightning lighting up the room, the thunder echoing through the house. He gripped the wood, the wind blowing his cloak as he pulled his hood up, and with one more look back he started his descent.

He got almost to the bottom when he lost his footing, something he knew was inevitable with how weak he was. He landed in a puddle with a thud, the air escaping from his lungs as he gasped, his eye blown wide. He lay there for a few seconds as the rain pounded on him before he climbed to his feet, gripping his side and started running, gripping his bag strap for dear life. He ran, the life he knew behind him, all his chains were broken and he was finally free. He would never see his father again and won’t ever have to see that cane ever again. He was… He was…

“Free…” He breathed, a smile spreading on his face as he looked up, squinting into the rain, he wasn’t fully free just yet, but… It was so close he could almost reach out and grab it. He could almost taste the sweet freedom, and he knew it would be a taste he will be addicted to.

He ran for what seemed like forever before he spotted the carriage exactly where Wayzz had said it would be. The single lantern letting him know it was for him. He approached the man hiding from the rain and dug in his bag, handing him the wet papers, panting and looking at the man desperately. The man looked them over before he looked at the young boy, eyeing his wounds and bruises before nodding. Plagg let out a sigh of release and limped to the back, climbing in and collapsing through the material covering the back. He lay on the floor, shivering and aching from pain, he closed his eyes and curled up, the carriage starting to move. He chuckled, and felt the adrenaline leave him, darkness taking over.

He awoke quite a while later, his clothes were still a little damp and clung to his skin. He was shivering and he was in a lot of pain. He grunted and pushed up, the sun shining through a few cracks in the material. It was daytime already? He blinked and climbed onto the bench, peaking out and gasped, they were approaching a gate in one of the walls. He spotted the face and without a doubt he knew where he was, he had slept a whole day, maybe two? Who knew, but he stared at the gate of Shiganshina. He had made it! He smiled small before his heart ached, staring down at his hands in sadness.

Images of his baby brother filled his mind, his big green eyes, his mop of blonde hair, and his angelic smile. He was Plagg’s best friend, and he wasn’t sure if he just gave him the life he could thrive in or sentenced him to suffering. He gripped the edge of the bench, his jaw tightening as his eye held all his sadness.

“I’m sorry Adrien.” He breathed, the pain almost crippling. But he had to stay strong, he would become a scout, get power and one day he would save Adrien if need be.

“Hey! You alive in there?” He heard the man yell, snapping him back to reality.

“Yeah!” Plagg called out.

“Get ready to jump, kid! There are some Garrison ahead checking carts, and I aint getting fined for some kid.” Plagg blinked.

“Wait, did you say jump?!” Plagg asked in disbelief. “You want me to jump from the moving carriage!?” He exclaimed in panic, standing up and peaking outside, and saw the ground was just dry dirt, even without his injuries this would be a hard and painful fall. He gulped and felt his stomach drop. He was in so much pain and was still exhausted, he looked back to where the voice came from.

“Yup! Unless you wanna deal with the Garrison soldiers!” The man said, laughing like an insane person. Plagg wouldn’t be surprised if he was. He gulped again and tried to calm down.

“Fuck…” He cursed.

“Now! Hurry!” The man yelled back, Plagg chewed his lip before he took a deep breath.

Plagg got ready to jump from the back of the carriage, pulling the material aside and took another deep breath. He called thanks to the driver before he gripped his bag and dove out, rolling as he hit the ground before skidding in the dusty dirt on his side, curled up. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth clenched until he came to a stop. That hurt more than he wanted to admit, a whimper leaving his throat as he lay there.

He coughed the dust out of his lungs before slowly opening his good eye and looking around. He saw the gate to Shiganshina in front of him in the distance, and the houses he spotted were small and quaint, the town much poorer than Stohess, and he smiled at seeing all the people smiling and getting on with their day.

He chuckled before he spotted a red dress blowing in his peripheral vision. He blinked before he looked at where it was coming from, looking up at a girl maybe a few years younger than him looking down at him with wide eyes and raised brows, clenching her brown shoulder bag to her chest. She had her black hair in two high pigtails, her shining hair blowing in the wind around her, her cluster of freckles visible from where he was on the ground. Her eyes were a dark blue, watching him out of what he thought was curiosity and a bit of shock. He must had landed in front of her and scared the shit out of her. He blinked and felt his heart skip a beat, something about her made the world freeze and all he could do was stare at her. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever before she spoke up.

“U-uh…” She spoke, her voice soft and sweet like a song, her long eyes lashes fluttering as she blinked and shook her head, “are you okay?” She asked finally with a raised brow, Plagg realised he must look like a right creep, his face was beaten and bruised and he was dressed very ominously, not to mention he was on the ground covered in dirt.

“Y-yeah, sorry if I scared you, the driver said he wouldn’t stop so I had to jump.” Plagg explained before he scrambled to his feet, strapping his bag to across his chest, ignoring the aches and pains.

“You didn’t scare me.” She said bluntly, examining him, looking at his face to which he just blinked and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then she looked him up and down. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“Uh, yeah, how did you know?” Plagg asked curiously, his breath catching his throat when she grinned and held up a finger knowingly, throwing her pigtails back. He blinked at her confidence and tell all attitude, watching the small girl grin with a raised brow.

“Simple! For one you are dressed way too nicely, and while your face isn’t something I don’t see everyday on kids who have been beaten up, I haven’t seen it around here before.” She said as she looked up at him, he just realised how small she was compared to him as she craned her neck slightly, how old was she? “So where are you from?”

Plagg contemplated on whether he should say or not, but something about her seemed trustworthy. “I actually just ran away from Stohess.” He admitted, “I’m here to join the cadets.”

“Stohess? The cadets?” She asked in shock, “why the hell would you come here when you could stay in the inner walls?” She asked, shifting her bag and placing a fist on her hip, a look of disbelief on her face.

“Uh… reasons.” He said with a nervous laughter, “don’t worry about that.”

“And why join the cadets?” She questioned, she was really chatty for someone who just met him, he wondered if her parents had told her about stranger danger.

“Uh, well, I have always wanted to be a scout.” He explained, shifting his bag and wincing slightly, “A captain there just helped me get away, and uh,” he tried to think of a good reason that wouldn’t make him seem like even more of a weirdo than he already seemed, “well, to be honest… I want to be free.” He admitted.

She raised her brow and frowned, “so you’re willing to be killed by titans to be… free?” She asked in disbelief.

“Well… let’s just say that where I came from was a hell of a lot worse than beyond the walls.” He said with a nervous chuckle.

“Hmm…” She hummed, eyeing him before she dug in her bag, Plagg raising his brows in confusion, watching her dig around, her tongue sticking out. “Ah ha!” She exclaimed, pulling out a small fabric bag and handing it over to Plagg.

“Uh…” He said as he stared at the bag with a raised brow, “thanks? What is it?”

“Sugar cubes.” She stated as if it was common knowledge. Plagg blinked and opened the bag, and low and behold there were sugar cubes in it. “It’s all I can spare, you look like you could use some sweetness in your life.” She said with a giggle, clasping her hands behind her back and smiling sweetly at Plagg. He blushed and blinked, no one had been this nice to him before, not a stranger anyway.

“Th-thanks…” He whispered, staring at the bag before looking back at the girl. “I’m Plagg, by the way.” He said, holding his hand out and grinning his Cheshire smile.

The girl smiled sweetly and shook his hand, gripping it firmly, “I’m Tikki.” She said, “I hope I’ll meet you again, Plagg. Maybe not, you know, exactly like this.” She said as she let go of his hand, motioning to the dirt covered boy who looked down at himself and laughed. “Good luck.” She said with a smile.

“I hope so too, Tikki.” He said with a smile, “I’ll, uh, see you around.” He said politely.

“I guess.” She said matter of factly, shifting her bag and flicking her hair back, Plagg blinked again, examining her. She was beautiful, and he could tell she would have ever guy after her when she was older, but he could already tell she would be able to handle them, her confidence sky rocketing. “See ya, Plagg.” She said before walking off.

He watched her walk off towards the gate, a tiny black haired girl with her long black hair flowing in the wind ran up to her and jumped into her arms, Tikki smiling at her before hitching her onto her hip, walking off and their laughter filling the world.

Plagg chuckled and smiled, he hoped he would see her again, but more importantly he hoped he would meet more people like her. He hoped his new life would be filled with people who would accept him. He hoped-

Before he could finish his thought he spotted a flutter of red and blinked, his body freezing and his eye stared in shock. A ladybug had landed on his nose, its small legs tickling his freckled skin. His breath caught in his chest and he gently moved the ladybug to his finger, staring at it. He looked at the ladybug and then back at the girl walking away and smiled.

"Well, maybe this black cat has a lucky charm afterall." He whispered, grinning and watching the ladybug fly away.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

Can I ask for, "“Can we please stop running? I think I’m dying.” with Steve 😘

Love you darling!

Pairings - Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Words - 901

Warnings - bad language words

a/n - Sorry this took so long, I got so many requests! I hope you like it, I’m still new to Steve. Not beta’d so all mistakes are my own. Let me know what you all think.

Your chest was burning, your legs were sore and your hair was stuck to your head. “Can we please stop running, I think I’m dying.” Sam and Steve both turn and look at you, neither of them particularly bothered about your complaining, “no, if we stop then the zombies will catch us and I want to beat Nat’s top score” Steve said, you know he has to hold back for you but you legitimately couldn’t continue. Everyone on the team was addicted to the zombie running app that you were using right now, nobody likes to do cardio. Sam found the app, created a league and now suddenly everyone was competitive. Running was everyones new favourite, no one wanted to lose the week and have to cook for the whole team everyday.

The rules of the game were simple, you had to outrun the zombies in the app for as long as possible getting points the longer you lasted. Someone had put it on extreme mode which meant all of you running as fast as you can, all except Steve and Bucky who had to keep pace so they couldn’t have an unfair advantage. 

Sam squirts water in your face to ‘cool you down’ and out of pure indignation you jump up and start jogging, not waiting for him and his stupid “on your left” taunts. He shouts for you to wait up, both you and Steve take off not worrying about Sam behind you. The sound of zombies getting closer, you can barely breathe but the idea that Sam would get eaten first is too funny since the whole sick idea was his. 

You turn back to gloat but trip over yourself and hit the deck, you lay there winded and hear the zombies catch up knocking you out of the game. Steve, who incidentally is not even out of breath the fucker, stands you up and offers you a piggy back which you gladly accept, jumping up and shouting ”CHARGE” you laugh when he runs off and Sam tries to keep pace.

Getting back to the tower you pass Nat and Bucky who are loading the app for their own chase, high fiving her on the way past. Steve deposited you on the counter, grabbing you all some bottles of water before asking you if you want some breakfast. Declining his offer for avocado toast you reach over for the box of cereal and smirk at his disgusted face before jumping down and grabbing a bowl before going to your apartment to clean up.

“Are you ever going to tell her?” Sam asks him, smirking at the look on Steves face before slapping on the back and walking off for his own shower. You came back a little later wearing your gym clothes to train, Steve jumped up to follow you into the gym staring at your ass and almost walking into the doorframe from being so distracted. 

You ask if you can train with him to work on your hand to hand combat, climbing into the ring and jumping around to warm up. He beats you every time, showing no mercy and pinning you a few times. Sam walks in a little while later and Steve is distracted for the briefest of seconds, its all you need though. Swiping his legs out and straddling his chest, smirking down at his shocked face “got you Rogers” you laugh in his face, dancing above him and revelling in your temporary victory. 

He moves you further down his body, grabbing your thighs and standing you up so you’re forced to wrap your legs around him. Sam comes up handing you both your phones, the app is loaded and the sounds have started “RUN” you shout at Steve, giggling as you bounce in his arms, he somehow manages to hurdle the ropes of the ring and not drop you charging out of the room and across the compound while you hold on and close your eyes.

Resting up against a tree, you shut off both phones and peck his lips softly “you saved my life Rogers” noticing the light dusting of pink across his cheeks you tilt your head to the side “you ok?” He looks down and you, staring at your lips and gripping you tighter, pushing you up against the tree “tell me to stop if you don’t want this” he crashes his lips against yours, moaning into your mouth as you tighten your legs around him. 

He pulls back and looks at you “fuck I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, you have no idea.” You look up at him and giggle, the hurt across his face makes you stop and bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself before it hurts his feelings. “Steve I’m sorry but I have to say this” you say looking up at him and cackling. 

Realisation crosses over his face and he throws his head back shouting “don’t you dare.” You wiggle out of his hold, waiting until your feet are firmly on the floor and he’s taken a step back before running away shouting “LANGUAGE” behind you, cackling as he chases after you, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder “I warned you” he says, marching into the compound and up to your room, ignoring the whistles and cheers of your friends as you pass.