#the fact that he needs permission and leaves people alone if they refuse automatically makes him better than maruki though

[caitas-cooing]

Shining Nikki: Sanrio collab event! 💕💖

Shining Nikki: new story update has existential horror, body horror, and the death of many unnamed explorers, including a couple and their newborn child

Shining Nikki: get ready for Nikki's birthday on the 6th 🥳🎉🎂

Shining Nikki: I buy the new UR designer's reflection in the arena because I don't have any UR reflections for that color and It's about Modric's ability to steal sad memories from people if they want it, which is kind of messed up, but they do ask for it so idk, but it's still weird, because the first time he did it he was 16 and his mom became dangerously depressed after his dad died so like after months of having to take care of her he figured out how to take some of her memories and she went back to normal. So like I'm not saying it's the best solution, but what else is 16 year old supposed to do with that? Also the reason why Joy forgot about the whole thing where her father experimented on her at the end of whatever chapter it was in volume one where she forgot is because he took her memories so that's one mystery solved I guess

[delimeful]

hold my body down (2)

chapter 2 of this fic!

warnings: arguing, mild violence, cult mentions, mild gore mentions

-

Virgil stared at the man, his mind blank. What?

“That’s-- great?” Roman tried, his voice cracking in the middle with bewilderment. The human beamed, beckoning with his hand. Roman reached out and Virgil slapped his hand back, glowering at him.

“What have I said about accepting help from random friendly men?” he hissed, eyeing the stranger warily. Roman flushed, shoving him slightly, but notably didn’t try to move forward again.

The man-- Patton’s smile didn’t falter, but his hand dropped slightly. Virgil refused to feel bad. For once, he was completely sure that his level of paranoia was necessary for the situation.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Patton said, folding onto his knees to sit on the edge of the bag’s opening. “I can just explain from over here. I would come to sit in the bag with you, but last time I did that I got held hostage and Logan put a ban on interacting with terrified strangers without his direct supervision.”

“That, uh, seems rather fair,” Roman offered, still wildly out of his depth. Virgil rolled his eyes, a hand on the hilt of one of his daggers in case the stranger made any sudden moves.

“Who’s Logan?” He asked, eyes flickering up to what little he could see through the opening.

“Oh, he’s the one who rescued you!” Patton said cheerily. Virgil broke out into a cold sweat immediately.

“Rescued?” Roman echoed in disbelief. “Are you talking about the giant? Because I’m pretty sure he just abducted us against our will.”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” Patton insisted, only confirming Virgil’s theory that he was probably brainwashed and/or had Stockholm syndrome. Or both. Or a variety of other, worse options, such as yet another cult member or another giant in disguise.

“Easy, Virgil.” Roman laid a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Uh-- Patton, was it? If we’re not being… y’know… kidnapped and imprisoned, do you think you could back up so we can get out of the bag?”

“Of course!” Patton answered, popping back to his feet. “I’ll be right out here, take your time! I’m sure the last couple of hours have been rough.”

Virgil tried not to snort. Rough was one word for it. His amusement died a quick death when Roman began moving towards the opening. He latched onto the other man’s arm like a steel trap. “I don’t trust this.”

“You don’t trust anything,” Roman retorted automatically before softening. “It’s okay, I’m just checking to see what’s out there. Won’t even get out of the bag, on my honor.”

Virgil reluctantly followed him, grabbing onto him tightly as though he could keep anything out there from hurting him by yanking him back into the bag.

Roman ducked his head back under the cloth a moment later. “Okay. Bad news, there is absolutely a giant still out there. Good news, he’s all the way over across the room, reading a book. He is steadfastly ignoring both us and Patton, who waved at me.”

“What.” Virgil clutched at his hair. “What is going on?”

“I suspect we’ll have to ask Patton that. If we want answers, we’ll have to go get them,” He said, patting Virgil on the back encouragingly. “Don’t worry, my Dark and Stormy Knight, I’ll keep you safe.”

“My job,” Virgil grumbled, not releasing his grip on Roman’s wrist as he led the way out of the bag.

Everything was huge. He should have expected it, seeing as this was a giant’s home, but it still threw him off. They were on a huge table, in a huge living room, and the giant was indeed across the room with a huge book, pretending like they didn’t exist. From this distance, Virgil could actually take in all of him without feeling like he was going to pass out.

Patton was sitting a few feet away, and beamed at their approach. Virgil barely tore his eyes away from the giant long enough to nod distractedly at him. “Hi again! Are you guys okay?”

“We’re… fine,” Roman said, uncertain. “I think we’d just like to know what’s going on?”

“That’s totally understandable!” Patton replied, sympathetic. “I was pretty jittery after Logan first brought me here, too!”

“Oh, great,” Virgil muttered to Roman. “Serial kidnapper.”

Roman shot him a look before turning back to Patton. “He brought you here? Could I ask… why?”

“The same reason he brought you two here! I was in danger.” Patton glanced over to the giant with a fond smile before leaning in secretively. “To be honest, I think he was even more worried than I was! I was sort of stabbed at the time, though, so I guess that makes sense.”

“How were you ‘sort of stabbed’? You’re either stabbed or you’re not!” griped Virgil, who was possibly feeling more snappish than normal after one of the most stressful experiences of his life.

“My goodness, you were stabbed?” asked Roman, who had always been a sucker for a dramatic tale.

Patton tugged up the edge of his shirt, displaying a nasty-looking scar that curved around his side and stomach. In Virgil’s professional opinion, there was nothing ‘sort-of’ about a wound like that; it had been meant to kill. “Yeah, the people you met in town, they’re a cult! And they wanted to do a blood sacrifice for the monsters in the woods, and I wasn’t exactly well-liked, so…,”

“They stabbed you and left you for dead?” Virgil finished, a bit of anger leaking into his voice despite his determination not to sympathize with this guy.

“But I didn’t die!” Patton waved his hands a bit as though in celebration. “All the monsters in the woods had already been scared off when Logan moved here, and so he was the one who found me and helped me recover!”

Roman glanced over at the giant again, a speculative look in his eye that Virgil absolutely did not approve of. He scowled, his grip on Roman’s wrist tightening slightly.

“Right, and he just did this out of the goodness of his heart?” Virgil snorted dubiously. “I wouldn’t believe that from another human, let alone someone with a literally huge advantage over us. If your story is true, why didn’t the cult try to gut us? For that matter, if he’s not into human sacrifices, why wouldn’t your buddy over there just tell them to stop? Or, y’know, not kidnap us in the first place?”

“Well, hold on--,” Patton tried, but Virgil was on a roll.

“How do we know that this isn’t some elaborate setup? If he has the magical capabilities to heal a mortal wound, then wouldn’t it be easy for him to enchant a captive into believing that he’s just doing what’s best for him? Before, you said there were other people brought here-- what happened to them? Do you even know?”

Across the room, there was a sharp clap as the giant firmly snapped his book shut.

“They left,” Logan said firmly, the first words that they’d heard from him. “And if you continue to harangue my housemate, I will ask you to do the same.”

“Logan,” Patton said, a little exasperated.

Virgil felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of those huge, dark eyes locked onto him, but he plastered his best snarl on even as he dragged a protesting Roman partially behind him. “We’d be glad to leave, but someone put us on a table ten times our height!”

“Virgil,” Roman tried, but Virgil didn’t have the luxury of not paying attention to the pissed off giant in front of them.

“There’s a staircase down to your left,” the giant informed him coldly, “so if you are intent on watching your companion die from organ combustion, you have my utmost permission to leave.”

Logan!” Patton chided, a lot exasperated. He turned back to them. “He doesn’t mean it like that, I promise.”

“Really?” Virgil snapped, crowding Roman back further. “Because it sure sounds like he just outright threatened to kill us if we leave.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose before rising easily from his chair and reminding them all just how big he truly was. “This is why I let Patton handle the talking. I don’t know why humans always insist on making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Virgil’s heart jumped into his throat as the giant approached, a thousand potential ways they were going to die flashing before his eyes. Behind his back, he flashed Roman a hand sign that meant ‘run for it’, and then released his friend’s wrist to draw one of his knives threateningly.

It was a pointless effort, but he’d known since setting out with his prince that one day he’d die for him.

Sure enough, the giant moved with that same uncanny speed he’d shown in the clearing, and simply grabbed Virgil’s forearm between his fingers as easily as one might scruff a cat, preventing any stabbing.

When Virgil immediately went to grab for another knife with his free hand, he found himself abruptly lifted and maneuvered, and couldn’t help letting out a startled yelp. The giant had essentially flipped him onto his front and settled one hand on his back as a weight, leaving him pinned and the giant firmly out of stabbing range.

More concerning was the fact that he could now see Roman, who hadn’t moved more than a few steps, and not just because he was a stupidly loyal, headstrong idiot. The prince seemed almost dazed, his skin shiny with sweat as he glanced between Virgil and Logan. Something was wrong. “Roman--!”

“You’re beginning to feel it, aren’t you?” Logan said, his cold tone thawing slightly as he looked down at Roman. “The cult of that town has only grown more... inventive with every cruel sacrifice they attempt. Rather than physical injuries, they’ve turned to blood curses, which has made my life exceedingly difficult.”

“Blood-- Blood curses?” Roman managed, looking more pallid by the moment.

The giant set a free hand down, palm up in offering. “I can reduce the effects. If you give me sufficient time, I can unravel the curse entirely, though brewing a countercurse will likely necessitate a drop of your blood.”

“Why go to the trouble?” Roman asked haltingly, meeting Virgil’s frantic gaze for only a moment. “What do you want in return?”

Logan sighed. “If you insist on applying such intentions to my actions, you can call it compensation. It is because of my presence that the cult continues to leave ‘offerings’, and thus your current state is my fault.”

“Then why not just do it?” Roman asked, staring at the offered hand with clear suspicion. Virgil was almost proud.

“Patton has gone to great lengths to teach me manners for interacting with smallfolk,” Logan replied dryly. “The first of which being ‘don’t grab.’”

There was a brief moment of silence as they all looked to Virgil, who was still pinned and sorely wishing he was in biting range of Logan’s hand.

“Manners don’t apply if someone is trying to stab me,” Logan added, a beat late.

Patton waved from where he was half-hidden behind Logan’s arm. “It’s true, my lessons did make an exception for stabbing!”

“Let him up,” Roman requested, his voice lacking its usual bravado. He still appeared concerningly ill. “He won’t stab you, right Virgil?”

Virgil grumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath, before sighing and going limp. “All I want is to protect my prince. If you actually mean to help him, I won’t stab you.”

“Now that stabbing is off the table, I’ve gotta say, it’s knife to meet you,” Patton chimed in, his grin audible in his voice.

“Patton, please,” Logan groaned, lifting his hand off Virgil to instead massage his temples in exasperation. “You’re going to disturb our guests.”

“Aw, are you sure? I think my jokes are stabsolutely hilarious!”

Virgil ignored the ridiculous byplay between the two of them to scramble to his feet and hurry to Roman’s side, ignoring the way Logan moved his arm slightly to be between him and Patton. “Roman, are you okay?”

“Are you? You’re the one who just got gently tenderized by Bignoramus over there for the second time today,” Roman countered, matching Virgil’s whisper.

“Fine, stupid question, clearly neither of us are okay. Are we really doing this, though? We could still run.”

“I’m… not sure we can, actually.” Roman’s hand hovered over his chest, face drawn tight with pain. “They definitely did something to me, and I doubt either of us will figure out how to fix it or get aid in time. … Look. This may be my only option, but you don’t have to--”

“Can it, Princey,” Virgil cut in, dragging a hand through Roman’s hair roughly and ignoring his resulting squawk. “Where you go, I go.”

“Even there?” Roman asked, tilting his head toward Logan’s palm somberly.

Virgil looked over to Logan, watching the attentive way he was listening to Patton speak and contributing words of his own. The giant could have done away with any of them at any point, and he hadn’t. That wasn’t enough to really trust him, it could still all be part of some scheme, but... it had to count for something.

If it was the only thing that could help Roman, Virgil could push aside his fear and his anger.

“Even there,” he answered, and led the way onwards.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

- Chapter 6 -

For his trip to the Cloud Recesses, Wen Chao was assigned a bodyguard of his own, a man introduced to them as Wen Zhuliu – not his actual name, of course. Wen Ruohan handed out his surname like a gift, spreading his poison to as many people as possible, and this Wen Zhuliu was apparently one of his most highly prized finds.

“They call him the Core-Melting Hand,” Wen Xu told the children. “And it’s not an exaggeration – he has a technique that can actually melt a person’s golden core.”

Personally, Nie Mingjue thought that techniques like that, however frightening, were all a bunch of trash in the end – a technique of that sort was flashy, impressive, but it had only two uses: to scare people or to turn the tide of a single battle against fellow cultivators, and for the run-of-the-mill work of night-hunts was totally pointless. It required such immense focus and dedication to puzzle out that it left no room for anything else, meaning this Wen Zhuliu probably didn’t know how to do anything practical, even as he thought himself better than others.

The man looked it, too. His face seemed older than he probably actually was in years, with an expression of detachment and ennui that made him come off as arrogant, or at minimum as snobbish, despite being nothing more than a tool for Wen Ruohan to use up and cast aside.

He’d probably be a bad influence on Wen Chao, Nie Mingjue thought, frowning to himself. He would need to have a word with Wen Chao before he left – tell him to trust his own instincts, to avoid things that made him uncomfortable, to reach out to trustworthy adults in the Lan sect if he thought he needed help. Even if this Wen Zhuliu wanted to make trouble on Wen Ruohan’s behalf, it would be difficult for him to act if Wen Chao used his youth and desire to please his father as an excuse to obey the rules…

A hand touched his shoulder and Nie Mingjue flinched, his hand flying to Baxia’s hilt – he was never without her comforting weight anymore – but it was only Wen Xu, looking as anxious as ever.

“It’s lunch,” he said, and Nie Mingjue blinked, noticing that they were now alone in the hall. He must have lost time again, sinking into his thoughts without tracking the world outside. A dangerous habit anywhere, even more so in Qishan, but on the other hand it wasn’t like he was being allowed out for night-hunts right now – the danger here was only internal, and Wen Ruohan found his suffering funny. “I asked them to make lamb skewers with cumin.”

A Qinghe specialty. Nie Mingjue appreciated the gesture.

“Wen Zhuliu,” he croaked, his voice rasping as if he had just been screaming. Maybe he had been. It hadn’t been that long since the last ‘walk’ through the Fire Palace that Wen Ruohan had invited him on – they were a regular part of the routine, now. Wen Ruohan’s own personal indoctrination since the usual sorts of things didn’t seem to be working well enough on Nie Mingjue.

Maybe if he could keep thinking of it that way, as some twisted form of education, then perhaps the horror of the things he saw and, worse, was made to do – the choices he was forced to make, the things he had to do to innocent people with his own hands, the things that were sometimes done to him as an example, the screams, whether his own or others, that incessantly rang in his ears, the feeling afterwards that he would never be clean again – perhaps it would eventually become merely mundane. Maybe. Probably not.

It might be worse if it did, actually.

“What about Wen Zhuliu?” Wen Xu asked, interrupting Nie Mingjue’s increasingly dark thoughts, and Nie Mingjue shook his head to clear it. 

“He’ll be trouble,” he said.

Wen Xu frowned. “You think so? He’s just a bodyguard.”

Nie Mingjue shook his head a second time. It was evident to him that Wen Zhuliu was being sent to ensure that the Lan sect taught Wen Chao only as much – or as little – as Wen Ruohan preferred; otherwise, there was no need for such a powerful servant, with a frightening aura and an older man’s authority, to chaperone Wen Chao. Especially not to such a peaceful place, backed by the Lan sect’s guarantee of safety.

Wen Chao had only so very recently started acting like a person, thinking of others and considering questions of right and wrong beyond his own selfish desires – leaving him alone with Wen Zhuliu threatened that.

Nie Mingjue was sure of it.

“I’ll talk to A-Chao about it, then, warn him of the sorts of tricks he might play,” Wen Xu said. He would know them best, of course. “And I’ll make room for you to talk to him as well, if you feel able. Maybe I can get us permission to escort them some part of their journey, you and I…it’d be good for you to stretch your legs a little.”

Get you out of here for a while, he meant, and Nie Mingjue shrugged. Even if Wen Xu won permission for him to leave, which he doubted he’d be able to, in the end Nie Mingjue would have to come back, back to Wen Ruohan and his Fire Palace, back to all the people who depended on him.

Nie Huaisang, Wen Chao, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, even Wen Xu…

He was their big brother. He had a responsibility to them, just the same as he’d had ever since his father put Nie Huaisang into his arms for the first time, love chaining him more effectively than any iron.

He had to come back.

After all, if he didn’t go walking with Wen Ruohan, someone else might have to, and that was just – intolerable.

-

“I need help planning a murder,” Wen Xu announced as he swept in through the door in a swirl of intricately designed red robes, and Nie Mingjue wondered grumpily what type of dramatic actor he had been in a past or future life that made him quite so inclined to extravagant gestures. “Well, don’t all of you jump up and volunteer to help at once!”

Everyone reluctantly turned to look at him. Wen Ning was playing weiqi with Nie Mingjue while Nie Huaisang pretended to meditate as Wen Qing examined his meridians for any courses of treatment that might make cultivating easier on him; no one was especially moved by Wen Xu’s grandiose proclamation.

Maybe if he didn’t say something similar just about every other week…

“Who are we murdering today, Wen-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, cracking an eye open and very obviously asking more to have a reason to stop even the pretense of meditation rather than any actual interest in the answer. “One of the teachers, or the soldiers, or a guard, or someone that stepped on your foot in the marketplace –”

“Wen Zhuliu,” Wen Xu said, and Nie Mingjue put down the weiqi piece he’d been toying with abruptly, with a smack that shook the table.

“What did he do?” he asked, concerned. “Is A-Chao all right?”

“He’s fine, if a bit shaken,” Wen Xu said. “Wen Zhuliu took him to a brothel.”

“He did what,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Unfair,” Nie Huaisang said. “I want to visit a brothel.”

“I’m fairly sure he wasn’t there on an educational visit, Huaisang-xiong,” Wen Qing said. “Or, at least, not in terms of a literary education.”

“Oh. Ick. No thanks, then.”

Wen Xu was gnashing his teeth together. “He wants to make a waste out of him. Fancy restaurants, a gambling house – I insisted we leave as soon as I realized – and now a brothel…if I hadn’t put a stop to it, A-Chao would be addicted to every vice available by the time he got to the Lan sect. They’d kick him out within a week!”

“He wouldn’t be able to challenge your position if he were a waste,” Wen Ning observed quietly. “If you were more like your father, you might even thank him for getting rid of a rival.”

“But why now?” Nie Mingjue asked, shaking his head. “A-Chao’s still so young. Playing around at that age can injure the body.”

It probably fucked up your head, too. Wen Ruohan’s specialty.  

“If A-Ning is right about the motive, that’s the sort of injury one might want to inflict,” Wen Qing said. “Boys that young can’t get women pregnant, and overdoing it too young can damage them, keep them from having children in the future. Not to mention the impact on their adult personalities; it might turn him into a lascivious beast, unable to take no for an answer, or else retard him in childhood, injure him with trauma – or all of the above. Or none, of course, some people are fine, but it’s not something you want to take a chance on.”

“You put a stop to it, right?” Nie Mingjue asked Wen Xu, who nodded.

“I explained at some length to A-Chao how exactly one gets infected with lin bing,” he said. “Bleeding sores on your prick and all…in fact, I may have overdone it a bit. I’m not sure he’s even willing to look at a woman right now.”

“Good thing he’s off to the Cloud Recesses, then,” Nie Huaisang said, pitiless in the ways of the young. At least, Nie Mingjue hoped that was the reason, and not Qishan Wen cruelty seeping into his bones. “Don’t they split up men and women?”

“I knew Wen Zhuliu was trouble,” Nie Mingjue said, deciding to sidestep the current conversational subject. “We should write to the Lan sect – Xichen will be able to recruit his uncle to help stop anything like that going forward. Though I still want to know why Sect Leader Wen would do such a thing to A-Chao now. Haven’t I reduced my level of influence on you enough?”

He got a whole array of pitying looks that suggested his supposed ‘influence’ on them – mentioned several times by Wen Ruohan, and just as inexplicable to Nie Mingjue as it had been the first time it had come up, even though everyone else seemed to automatically know what was meant by it – was not only still existent but running stronger than ever.

“Well, fine,” he said, scowling at the traitors who refused, to a man (and woman), to explain anything. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t understand what they were always not-saying to each other about it. “But the point still stands. Why now? Why this way?”

“It’s his first time leaving the Nightless City without the usual retinue,” Wen Qing said. “And he’ll be staying at the Cloud Recesses for a few months. If he gets used to the outside world without going off-course, it may be harder to lure him into vice later. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence?”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said.

“If we’re very lucky, it’s not a coincidence, but has nothing to do with us at all,” Nie Huaisang put in. “There may be more that we don’t yet know.”

-

The ‘more’ turned out to be a very well-off young lady, closely connected to several of the cultivation families in Henan – in the area right between Qishan Wen, the remnants of Qinghe Nie, and Lanling Jin – moving into the Nightless City as Wen Chao’s future bride.

Nominally, anyway.

In reality, her ‘bridal’ suite became a regular stop on Wen Ruohan’s daily schedule, and the extremely audible sounds of their romping had everyone chewing ginger in an attempt to avoid vomiting.

“There goes any hope of another girl for me to spend time with,” Wen Qing said with a sigh.

“What? I’m not good enough for you?” Nie Huaisang huffed, mock-offended. “How many girlish arts to I have to excel in, huh? I dress neat, I embroider, I…uh…”

She poked him in the forehead. “I was just saying that it might be nice to have someone else, that’s all. Ideally someone who is actually my gender. But I’m not anywhere desperate enough to spend time with someone like that.”

The young lady in question, Ma Liyuan, was arrogant and self-absorbed, closer to Nie Mingjue’s age – or maybe even Wen Xu’s, he hadn’t asked – than to Wen Chao’s, and seemed quite content with the circumstances that had brought her to and kept her in the Nightless City, provided that she was kept well supplied in new clothing and make-up. The morality, or lack thereof, of fucking her engaged-in-absentia fiancé’s father on the regular appeared not to matter in the slightest.

“I’m happy that she’s here,” Nie Mingjue said, and when they all looked at him strangely, he elaborated, “She’s been very distracting.”

He hadn’t had to go on anymore ‘walks’ with Wen Ruohan since she arrived, since there was really only so much time to spare for extracurricular activities in the busy schedule of a Sect Leader, and his mental state had improved dramatically as a result. He didn’t like the fact that his reprieve came at Wen Chao’s expense – at least Wen Chao was safely away in Gusu for the moment, and didn’t have to endure the wretched humiliation of it in person – but he couldn’t deny that it was, in fact, a reprieve.

“It won’t last,” Wen Xu predicted gloomily. “It never does, with his lovers. Father only ever cares about power; he’s fucking the promise of Henan land, not her, though I assume he also enjoys demeaning her in every way he can think of in the process. Honestly, I don’t know why Father didn’t just take her on as one of his own concubines if he was planning on doing this – why the charade?”

“Another plan to get A-Chao out of the line of succession?” Wen Ning suggested.

“Seems like too much effort for just that,” Wen Qing said, and Nie Mingjue nodded, agreeing. Wen Ruohan didn’t need a reason to disinherit somebody, but even if he wanted one, he only needed one, not a half-dozen.

“Perhaps he just wants A-Chao to become disappointing,” Nie Huaisang said, his chin on his hands. “To us, I mean, not to him. A-Chao’s prickly, you know – if you mixed together those vices he’s being tempted with and the humiliation he must feel when he hears about what’s going on here, he might get himself into something stupid. And then, well, you know A-Chao would be heartbroken if we turned away from him, and you know he’s not the most independent person. All he’d have left is him.”

“But we wouldn’t turn away from A-Chao even if he did disappoint us,” Nie Mingjue objected. “I’d break his legs if he tried to turn into some drunken wastrel, of course; scold him, refuse to let him out of his room, make him reflect and write reasons why he needed to stop, train him into the ground if necessary, but that’s hardly turning away from him. Who’d do something like that?”

Everyone looked at him fondly, as if he was a puppy that just performed a unique trick.

Nie Mingjue scowled at them. Hadn’t they respected him, once? Or was that his imagination?

“It’s a reasonable thought,” Wen Xu said, apparently opting to ignore Nie Mingjue’s view on the subject. “Divide and conquer is my father’s preferred method of attack, along with forcing people to suppress their own morals in order to reach a temporary compromise that he’ll only break further the next time. With Mingjue-xiong injured –”

He was fine. Physically, anyway. The mental scars didn’t count.

“– and A-Chao temporarily gone, his next goal will be one of us, no doubt. Perhaps we should preempt him.”

“Oooh, are we staging a fight?” Nie Huaisang asked, perking up. “I call spectator. Fight! Fight!”

Nie Mingjue reached over and tugged on his hair. “If there’s going to be a fight between the four of you, you are definitely getting involved, and not as a spectator. And speaking of fighting, Huaisang, where is your saber? Have you been practicing?”

Everybody laughed.

[outr-banks]

What Happened, Happened || Fic

Rafe x Reader || Series pt. 1

requested: yes

a/n: anon, the deed has been done. i personally really liked writing this fic, so i decided to make it into a series! hopefully you guys like it 🥺

In which you end up taking care of a beaten up Rafe Cameron after a kook versus pogue brawl in the midst of his twentieth birthday party. It’s a party that changes, everything.

warning: slight angst, mention of a fight, mild language, light explicit content

flashback will be in bold italics

masterlist

-

Growing up in a family of kooks but called pogues actual family was and is hard. As much as you tried to run away from a lifestyle that is superficial and faux, it’s somehow always trailing behind you. Especially times like when you received an invitation to Rafe’s twentieth birthday party. You automatically denied attending such a thing, but your mom, who has an unspoken dislike towards your friends, made it clear that you had to attend. To put into her words, “you’re still a kook.” But this is what she does, constantly reminding you that your life doesn’t meet the requirements of someone with class and you have to make up for it.

You warned JJ not to come to the party, but his destest and child-like behavior against the kooks, had taken over. Everything happened quickly, you didn’t even have the chance to stop it, but it’s not like it would’ve done any difference.

“Please do not come to the party, JJ.” You nearly beg when you take notice of a small devious grin creeping on your friend’s lips.

“Come on y/n, it’ll be fun. This could be a great opportunity to bond with our fellow compadres” JJ swiftly puts an arm over your shoulders and chuckles at his own sarcasm.

Everything you did, your friends did it with you. But, it felt best to keep the water away from the hot oil.

“I mean it, JJ.” You swap away his arm and send him a menacing look. You want to trust that neither him or the rest of the boys won’t attempt to ruin the party, but can’t help worry something will go down.

Pound

Pound

Pound

It’s a frightening sound to hear, and it won’t stop. The physical pain of two boys unable to control their anger towards one another, entices a group of people to crowd around them. No one knew what happened or why it started. Everyone stood and watched not doing a single thing except encourage the disturbing brawl.

“Stop! Get off of him!” Kiara angrily screams, pushing Rafe off of JJ.

“Enough!” You hurrily hold unto Rafe, as he goes to take another swing at the beaten up blonde boy.

His arm pauses in the air the second your hand touches his body. A pair of blue eyes find your stare and to your surprise he calms down under them. The room falls silent, “Rafe go to the bathroom and stay in it till I get there.”

He’s hesitant to your command and looks at the situation in front of him before obeying. You watch him aggressively push through the crowd as he disappears among them.

“Kie, take JJ with you and get him cleaned up.” Kiara nods and takes ahold of your friend. His eyes trail over to you and he wipes the blood that drip down his mouth. You can’t help but be disappointed in JJ. He’s your best friend yet didn’t act like it tonight.

You focus back into the mesh of people watching tediously, “alright party’s over everyone, as you were.” You flip them off and then head to the bathroom to find Rafe.

You knock on doors at random till you find Rafe sitting on the bathroom counter. His attention faces you and he stiffles out an awkward cough. If there is any other kook that pissed you off more than the rest, it’s him. He always made sure to make your life a bit more complicated, but somehow you find yourself always caring for him and tolerated his actions. He doesn’t have anyone around who truly worries about his well-being, or dare even say, love him. All of his friends are pieces of shit who use him and support all of his poor life decisions.

“Where’s the first aid?” Your voice remains montonous, refusing to show any sympathy towards him. He hurt your best friend and needs to know better.

“Bottom cabinet to the left.” You rummage through the bins and grab it.

You observe his evident wounds that paints all over his face, “damn” you whisper under a breath.

“You should see the other guy.” Rafe laughs, but clutches at his stomach in pain. He sees you don’t react to his joke, nor his hurt.

“Look y/n, those pogues started it.” He huffs.

“Those pogues are my friends. Now lift up your shirt and let me see.” You remain unamaused as you watch purple and red colors fused together just above his bare stomach.

You scan through the first aid and find an ice pack. Rafe leans back as you break in the ice and wrap it around a bath towel then place it directly over his bruise.

“Ah!” Rafe squirms once the ice pack touches his skin.

“Hold it there.” You say, while preparing to clean up the bloodied marks across his face.

“Why are you doing this y/n? Couldn’t you just help your pogue boyfriend.” A scoff escapes your mouth and you shake your head

“I’m being serious... shit!” Rafe yells when you wipe an alcohol pad against his open wound. Probably applying too much pressure than needed. But, it’d do the job to shut him up.

You can feel his eyes search for yours but you continue to focus on his cuts.

“Rafe, I-I.” Deep inside you want to tell him that he’s wrong, you don’t hate him. In fact, you care about him. But you think to yourself-

What would that do?

“You’re wrong...JJ is not my boyfriend.” You place a thin bandaid on the cut above his eyebrow.

You take a step back observing the rest of his face making sure you didn’t miss a spot. There’s a split right above his lip and you do the same steps again.

You take his face with your hand a bit aggressively and pull it closer to you to get a better look.

“You like the view huh?” A grin tries to form on his lips but you force it shut.

“You’re not funny so shut up.” You demand. His lips are plumped up and full, they truly look kissable.

Your eyes unfocus from his wounds and land to his eyes. You feel a sudden drop in your stomach, and your heart rate increases. Seeing him so fragile under your touch and obedient to your words had awoken something in you. The stare between you both becomes dangerous, but you simply can’t look away.

The atomophere is dense and heavy. Your bodies are like the ends of a magnetic field, any closer it’ll attach. You watch his eyes fall to the location of your lips and bounce back to your stare. It’s an overwhelming feeling but nothing is running through your mind, except him.

A lusftul urge causes you to crash your lips against his, and he responds with twice the amount of lust. His hands drop from holding the ice pack and snakes around your body pulling you closer to him. Every kiss deepens further and desperation takes place. You want more of him, you need more. Rafe taste of peppermint and weed, an odd combination yet flavorful and splendid on your tastebuds. Your hands travel all around his torso and then land to his hair. His lips move to the nape of your neck and you give him permission to have more access leaning your head back.

Rafe’s touch alone drives you insane. It ignites a firey feeling in your stomach. You watch him leave wet kisses all around your throat through the mirror. His mouth lands on your sweet spot and you let a moan slip out. Your fingers wrap around this honey color strands and pull on them tighter each time his tongue meets that very spot. Rafe’s breath becomes heavier, and the sounds of your pleasure and his, stimulates the both of you. Your eyes focus on the mirror as you observe how each of you unravel one another in a wild and unexpected way.

Reality sets in and your mind fills with many thoughts. What the hell are you doing? All of it frightens you, and embarrassment surfaces your face. You immediately pull away from Rafe’s embrace and your body grows cold. Panic rises and your moves become frantic and shaky. Rafe looks confused and in shock, he too can not believe what just occurred. His hands are frozen in the air, remaining in the shape of you.

“I-I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I have to go.” You look at him once more, afraid and dumbfounded at your own actions. Just as he’s about to say something you quickly open the the bathroom door and slam it shut.

What the fuck just happened...

-

a/n: if you enjoyed this, you might be interested in this.

[dreamii-yume]

so for the Twisted Wonderland yandere thing on AO3 how about Leona with a smoll and pure darling who has lately been clinging to him because she has felt like she has been being watched recently not knowing who was doing the watching

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Oh no! Darling has been feeling like someone’s following and watching her lately! So, in the fear of getting pursued anytime soon, she ended up relying on Leona’s help, not realising the real culprit this whole time.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎ Yandere | Non-Con | Stalking | Dark Themes | Mentions of Pregnancy

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

A shiver went up your spine and you quickly turned around.

There was no one. As always.

It had been like this for the past few days, you would feel eyes striking holes into you but when you would look, nothing was there. You might’ve thought someone was playing a prank on you, like someone could have drank a potion of invisibility to spook you. That wasn’t a likely scenario but it sure was possible, there are a few students who holds quite the distaste for you, after all. But this has been going on for days, there was no way someone would be this dedicated to pull a prank this much, unless you’ve done something really bad to that person. However, thinking hard about it, you’ve never recalled anything of such.

Still, this wasn’t a very funny prank, that’s for sure.

Thankfully, you don’t feel it everywhere, in such places like your classroom. It gives you some sort of relief for once, because it means that the culprit wasn’t in the same room as you, or at least doesn’t seem to be like one of your classmates. But the moment you stepped out of the room, in the hallway, in the cafeteria, in places full of people, that’s when it will strike back up again. It feels dangerous that you honestly feel like someone is going to assassinate you once when they got the chance. You thought being with other people would give you some sort of protection against the paranoia, but it didn’t.

In fact, it felt even more hostile, almost like they were bursting with bloodlust, like it was telling you to get away from your friends. You talked to Ace, Deuce, and Grim about it once but none of them seemed to feel watched as much as you do. This made you think that perhaps, you were overreacting? I mean, there was no way that someone would be this interested in you that you could practically feel them crawling up your skin? You told that to yourself one day, until you came to the terrifying realization that your friends might not have sensed it because it was just focus on you.

Currently, walking home alone does not make it any better at all. There were no students left at this time and the sun had already set, the lamp posts were the only ones to give you light on your way. If someone were really out to get you, there was no more perfect opportunity than this and that’s what makes it more terrifying. Gulping down your nervousness, you tried ignoring that unknown presence and walked faster, the Ramshackle dorm was just few meters away so it was fine. You could make it if you ignore everything else, ignore the footsteps that was going faster as you quickened your pace.

Until someone reached out and pat your shoulder.

You yelped, not being able to handle the pressure any longer and crouched down in a silly way to protect yourself. Your body trembled and you could feel tears pricking in the corner of your eyes, you were not ready to die tonight.

“Hey, what’s up with you?”

You opened your eyes at the familiar voice and turned around to see the Dorm Head of Savanaclaw, Leona Kingscholar. “...Leona-san...?” You called out, as if you weren’t sure if he was real or not.

Seeing how teary-eyed you look, Leona raised an eyebrow. “It’s unusual for you to go home this late and alone, what happen to that little cat herbivore?” He asked, putting a hand on his hips.

You sniffed and slowly stood up, Leona took noticed on how much your legs were trembling. “G-Grim was...held up in Crewel-sensei’s lectures along with Ace and Deuce...” You answered, looking down.

Leona hummed, but it doesn’t seem like he gave a single damn about what you said at all. It was unusual seeing him outside of his dorm this late too and still on his school uniform, you thought. Usually he’d be sleeping somewhere peaceful, where Ruggie or Jack wouldn’t find him. Did he take a liking to a spot somewhere around here?

Then, Leona turned to you. “So, the hell’s got you on your nerves? You pissed someone off or something?” He asked as a joke.

You only bit your lip and looked up to him with a pleading look in which Leona’s eyes sparked in curiosity. This look was enough for him to know that you did not take his words as a mere joke, but possibly a serious fact. Without thinking, you reached out your hands and grabbed the hem of his vest, gently pulling on it. “P-Please...Help me...” You plead with tears in your eyes, swallowing up the fact that you were so desperate to save yourself. “Someone’s...Out there.”

Leona look down at you for a while, you couldn’t really place a finger on what kind of expression he was making. But soon, he gave out a smirk so smug that you feel like he was mocking you. “I see.” He said as he shrugged and pat your head quite roughly, ruining your hair. “It’s troublesome but that look on your face is a sight to see.”

You didn’t really know whether to take that as a compliment or not. You chose to look at it at the bright side, after all, he didn’t exactly say no, did he? He pats your back and began walking towards your dorm. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” He said with a small yawn but without any other complaint.

You blinked, surprised on how he took your request so well. You were almost sure that he would refuse and just leave you right then and there, saying how you should take care of your own problem. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as anyone thought him to be? With that, you smiled, appreciating his help and ran towards his side. You unconsciously grasped the end of his vest once again out of nervous reaction, but Leona didn’t seem to mind.

There was nothing burning holes into your soul anymore. You missed this feeling, you felt safe.

For now.

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“Look at this, Leona-san! I got a 90 for the first time on Crewel-sensei’s test!” You beamed down at Leona, showing your test paper at him, who was nonchalantly laying on your lap. Though, you feel kind of self-conscious as your body was a lot smaller compared to him, making you think that he might not be as comfortable laying on your lap like this. But he wasn’t complaining so you took the chance. You two sat on a shaded bench just somewhere in the school, it was lunch break and you thought how nice the day was. “I guess staying up that late to study was worth it, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah...” Leona said with his eyes close, not bothering to look at what you’re showing to him. But you didn’t mind, you were used to his personality by now anyway. Still, it didn’t stop your mouth from constantly blabbing about your day even if the lion in your lap didn’t seem to care. Well, that was what you thought, not knowing how his ears were actually twitching, attentively listening to every single one of your words.

It’s been a while since you’ve started hanging out with Leona, after you begged him for help that one night. The next day he agreed to do so, you really clanged on to him for protection. Maybe not physically so but the constant grasp in his clothes, hiding behind him, and you frantically looking everywhere just to be with him. Thinking about it now, it made you embarrassed that you were acting almost like an obsessive lover, constantly in need of Leona’s presence. You were surprised that he handled you so well, that he didn’t get annoyed with you too much, putting aside the occasional growls here and there. Overall, he didn’t seem to mind your presence at all, despite the fact that he was so hostile towards everyone from before. 

Maybe his overblotting incident had really did awaken the good in him, even if he isn’t fond of showing it. More importantly, being by his side was probably the safest you’ve ever felt in a while. The strange stalker following you around had practically been non-existent up to this point. You could finally get a good night’s sleep and enjoy your food without losing appetite because of the unnerving glares you get every time you take a bite. It was all thanks to Leona! 

Though, you did notice how weird it is as Leona never actually did do anything about it, he was just by your side this whole time, but it wasn’t like you could imagine him doing anything about it either. This made you automatically assume that your stalker must’ve gotten scared of him instead. You do have the Beast of Savanaclaw himself as a protection, so you wouldn’t really blame that person for staying away. But still, it feels like it was a memory from the past now, nothing to fret over anymore. You made sure to thank Leona for accepting such a weird request on your part, you wonder what he would like in return?

“Leona-san!” A voice called in the distance, slowly coming closer towards the two of you. You looked up and saw the Vice Dorm Head of the same dorm as Leona, Ruggie Bucchi. His eyes looked as bored as ever but lighted up once he saw the person he was looking for. “Ah, there you are. Geez...”

“Oh, Ruggie-san, hello.” You said, smiling at him as the Hyena waved at you, lazily. 

“Hey there, (Y/N). I’ll be borrowing Leona-san for a while.” He said, which made you chuckle thinking how silly it is for him to need some kind of permission from you to do so. Little did you know that Ruggie was almost certain that he was required to do just that. You gestured him to do what he came for, helping him even by patting Leona awake.

“Leona-san...It’s time for class, you know?” Ruggie called, watching how Leona grumbled and buried his face on your stomach. You flinched at that, now that was a feeling you weren’t expecting. Ruggie only sighed at his behavior, scratching the back of his head but he seems to be so used to this kind of routine. “Your teacher’s going to bitch on you again if you arrive late.”

That made Leona sigh in annoyance and grumbled under his breath. He slowly tears himself off you and sat up, massaging his temple. He glanced at you and you gave him a small smile. “Hope you had a good sleep, sorry if you got uncomfortable on my lap...” You scratched the back of your head, sticking your tongue out.

“...Not really.” Leona muttered as he turned away and stood up. “Alright, I’m up. There’s no end to a teacher’s nag so let’s go and take you to your classroom really quick.”

You blinked at him, almost forgetting about the fact that this had been a regular occurrence for the two of you ever since he accepted your request. Usually, you would accept this offer without hesitation but it has been quite a while since your stalker had stopped. You didn’t want to bother Leona with these kinds of silly interactions anymore, not when you weren’t scared anymore. “Ah...That’s no need.” You said, giving him a smile and standing up. “I think I can manage to go by myself now, thank you.”

You noticed how Leona seemed to become a little too quiet for your taste after saying that. It was quite unnerving on how he just stared at you, as if you just did something unusual.

It somehow feels eerily familiar. 

“(Y/N).” Leona calls out, making you flinch in surprise. “Watch your back out there.”

“You never know when someone will just grab you by the neck.”

He seems to be back in his lazy attitude now, giving you his signature smirk. His voice sounding like he meant it as another crude joke but your body stiffened, like it suddenly gone into defense mode. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful but you didn’t like that kind of joke, especially when it hits way to close to your original problem. 

You nod your head without any other question. “I’ll be careful.” You said, giving him a small, but twitching smile. You turned your heel, waving at the two Savanaclaw members and went on your merry way.

A little quicker than usual.

Silence befall on the two beastmen. It was only after your figure disappeared from their sight that Leona heard Ruggie sighed. “I know I’ve been saying this a lot but...” He said, crossing his arms and looking up at Leona with an amused smirk. “You’re really mean, Leona-san.”

“Seriously, you scared her to this extent just so you could come in and be the prince charming? Talk about being cheap.” Ruggie said with the clear intention of pissing of his dorm’s head leader. He got a growl of irritation because of that, but he still considers it as a win. He looked back at Leona, despite his initial thought however, he didn’t seem to be against his decisions.

Leona began to walk away from him, presumably going to his next class, Ruggie followed after him. “She got over her fear of being watched really quick.” He said, yawning.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ruggie asked, raising his eyebrow but then he thought about what he said. “...Well, I guess for her, yeah. But for you, I don’t think so.”

Feeling stupid for answering his own question, Ruggie shook his head and looked up at Leona. “Anyways, what do you plan to do about it?” He asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Leona smirked, Ruggie already could tell that it wasn’t a good sign but he merely sighed at it. 

“I’m going to be giving her another reason to be scared.”

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

Estimated date release of the next Request in June 19

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Lost Faith (Favored Ones, Part 24.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “Live with me in this sin forever.” - Danny Kiranos

Part summary: Seattle was turning into a living nightmare - but finally, you had an information you wanted so bad in your palms. You got to know where Abby is.

A/N: I am sorry for describing such open violence, it’s going to be really disgusting with the upcoming parts. It is how it is.

Warnings: Gore, blood, murder, infected, guns, shooting, angst, graphic depiction of manslaughter.

Word count: 5.8 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day two - evening:

It was dark outside for you to see anything. Maybe it was the coverage of the trees making it more difficult to see, but this place was simply too dark. But it came with one fact which made you realize that you maybe aren't that screwed. The Scars couldnt see shit either, so they were carrying torched to light up their surrounding. At least some of them to this degree.

"Who is that?" - Ellie whispered, looking around as well. You gazed back at her quickly to assure yourself that any of those fuckers are in close proximity to your bracken hiding spot. When you couldnt see any brown coat, you managed to speak quietly.

"These are the Scars. The enemies of the WLF. They communicate through whistling, so that's a catch." - You described your enemies quickly while getting up on your knees to see you'll be able to maneuver through the park, slowly getting some hang on the surroundings. - "They shoot arrows on sight, but if we take out of them, I can shoot back hopefully." - This was actually a good plan you came up with. There was no sureness if you'd make it out unnoticed, but taking out some of them could make your way easier.

"Hey, see these two loners next to the huge tree?" - Ellie pointed to a couple standing a few feet away from you. One of them was holding a torch and the other one was inspecting something, which made them an ideal target. Without any hesitation, you nodded and Ellie nodded back you, making sure you caught her drift. You were about to take them out. And so you got to the job, moving around as quietly and quickly as possible, running from one bush of bracken to another, waiting for a bit and repeating the process again. Ellie took out the standing one while you jumped on the back of the kneeling Scar, covering their mouth with your palm as you pushed your knife into the middle of their neck. It didn't even feel unnatural or too stuff by that pint. Your arm just automatically pushed deeper in, making sure that the son of a bitch stays dead when you let them go.

This couple was a bingo for the both of you - Ellie used the revolver rounds and you stole the four arrows you found at one of the bodies. Truth be told, this wasn't much ammunition - but it was better than nothing, that was for sure. Your chances of survival suddenly rose a little. Next, you made your way to another part of the park, killing everyone on sight quietly. Usually, you kneeled further away from them while Ellie hid behind them, waiting for you to shoot the arrow into their neck. After that, she made sure they won't get back on their legs ever again. If you'd had to admit something, it was you and Ellie being an extraordinary team when it came to killing both normal people and the infected. There wouldn't be any point in denying the fact.

It only got harder when you got to face the brutal scenery reminding you of the reality of Seattle. Two scars were dragging a man on the ground. He was pleading for his dearest life, crying out for help. And you'd help him if Ellie's palm didn't hold you down. It would be too dangerous to reveal yourself. If you wouldn't be too careful, this could be your faith as well.

The man was dragged to the third Scar, who was preparing a noose for him as the person watched him getting dragged on the mud, the stones and the branches fallen off the trees. This was making you sick from your stomach. You watched the shaming process until the very end - they hung him up and cut his belly open, watching as the blood and intestines basically fell out of his abdominal cavity. He was still fighting for his life when the group talked about him being freed from some sins or what. And as you and Ellie changed the position, hiding behind a fallen tree, you could see not one... But at least a dozen persons hung up in the same way.

"The TV station..." - Ellie sighed upon the terrifying sighting, trying to find some words to say. - "It was the Scars' doing. They hung the men up and killed Leah before we could get to her." - You finished quietly, looking at all of the people hanging there, being killed in the most humiliating way possible. With their hands tied behind their back, their abdominal cavity opened up and choked to death.

As you kneeled there and watched their work, of which the Scars were seemingly proud of, you felt another wave of rage filling you up. Without realizing what you were doing, you took out an arrow, watching a loner with a torch walking closer to you. It didn't matter in which fuckery did these psychos believed in. They were hunting down all people, putting them up as trophies of sorts, hanging each one of them in a gruesome way. Why should you have mercy when they didn't have any? Did their religion give them some sort of permission to do that to the others? Oh, you highly doubted that.

Some high-pitched sound was filling your eardrums up as your breathing got heavier and heavier. These fucks alone were responsible for Joel's death. No-one else was to be blamed then them. The beating of your heart was like drums inside your brain as you put your elbows high enough to go for her fucking head to shoot the loner down. Before Ellie could stop you from releasing the string, the arrow was on its way. What did happen after that, you didn't know.

Only glimpses of this action remained inside your head. Their begging when you circled your elbow around their neck as you sliced their fucking throats as if they were pigs. Shooting and yelling of commands, loud and warning whistling, begging for life. The blood soaking into the leather coats as the rain started falling through the coverage above. Suddenly, you winked again, waking up from the violent rage. You were standing next to the hanged man, who was still suffocating to his death with more than seven dead Scar bodies around you.

You were covered in blood from head to toes, trembling with your knife in your palm as you tried to remember what just happened. Then you noticed Ellie with her revolver standing in front of you with a blank expression as she was thinking about something, slowly putting the smoking gun down. - "Did I do this?" - One look around told you that you, in fact, cause all of that. All these people were stabbed to death, only some of them were also shot to their legs or arms.

"I couldn't stop you. It was as if... As if there was no-one inside you for a moment." - The girl confessed as you let the knife fall on the ground to follow it, puking into the small puddle of water. Your stomach was contracting for a long time, but nothing other than saliva left your body. You noticed a drop of blood slowly rolling to your nose as you concentrated on your reflection. Your eyes were empty, but it was the only feature you were able to recognize. You felt Ellie's palm tugging you up back on your feet, leading you to another hideout.

"They must've heard what happened here, so we better move it. You weren't exactly discreet or quiet with this matter." - The redhead whispered and started to wipe the blood off of your forehead. How could you know what you're feeling with the utter chaos roaming every small part of your body? You already started to grief for Joel as your brain slowly connected the dots, but it turned out differently than sadness usually does. It was indeed very useful, but not in your current situation. - "You holding up?" - She asked when she saw the spaced-out expression you had.

"Aren't you afraid of me now?" - A whimper left your lips as you felt the urge to cry. At that moment, were you still having the moral high ground when it came to Ellie and Joel? Or were you just like them since that moment? You killed at least eleven people in a spawn of two to three minutes. Like a brute. But Ellie shook her head with an unnatural expression. - "We do what we need to do. We endure and survive." - The girl told you and checked the surroundings once again. No-one was coming in your direction. It looked safe. - "Comic books can teach a hell load of stuff when you read the right ones." - She explained the quote as you made your way through an empty, corroded parking lot full of empty cars. As you found the staircase leading up, Ellie made sure she goes first before any of these bat shit crazy thoughts you clearly had would fuck your head up again. This wasn't what you two needed at the moment.

Well, fuck both of you, there were more Scars in your way once you came out of the building. Which could be a problem once you'd let yourself set loose again. So she made sure you're staying put by kneeling with you beyond one of the obstacles. - "Listen. I need you to shoot them down just like before, okay?" - Ellie asked you and watched your head nodding so she'd be at least partially sure you won't go all crazy again. - "Alrite. Imma go first there and you'll follow me once this area is cleared out, we clear?" - Again, you confirmed, preparing your bow and steadying yourself on your position. The girl was on the move and you just kneeled there, having the first one on your mark - you were ready to fire once you'd get the signal. It came soon enough. Ellie jumped over the huge guys' chest and sliced his throat - but that wasn't enough to bring him down. So, with a shallow breath, you went for his exposed chest, hitting the spot where you thought he'll have the heart. It wasn't sure if you hit or miss in the first few moments, but soon enough, you watched him crumble down like a house of cards.

You walked through this part of the city just like that - you sneaked around in the tall grass, took cover behind cars and walls and you were leading the long-ranged attacks while Ellie was doing the manual job. You didn't even have to be afraid that you'll go out of arrows. Scars had more than enough archers, which played in your favors. Sure, it felt weird to go through cooling bodies of your enemies, but it turned out these fucks had a lot of stuff. A lot of gun ammo, some first aid supplies, arrows, and... - "Wow. Would you look at that." - You mumbled to Ellie once you bowed over to pick a manual weapon. You snorted upon watching the blade of the machete, knowing damn well this girl will be put to use very soon. Quickly, you pinned into the small drink rack on your backpack with straps so it wouldn't fall out that easily, looking at Ellie.

"We should move on. Let's jump off here, to the other concrete island, yeah?" - The girl pointed her finger below you and you chuckled ironically. Well, not that you could choose. You've scavaged the whole place already and there was no other option for you to go. So you sighed and looked at your best friend. - "Please, may the Lord let me survive to see another day." - You said before jumping down. Your muscles jolted in a weird way as you muttered out a curse word. - "Watch out!" - Ellie yelled at you just before a Scar shot a bullet at you. Quickly, you pulled out your gun, trying to shoot him down as well while Ellie landed next to you, taking care of the other two men standing at the island.

When it was silent there again, you laid down on your back while Ellie sat down, catching some breath. - "Fucking Christ. We can't have one peaceful moment in this shit hole, can we?" - You stated, as a matter of fact, having your friend chuckling at it as she shook her head. When you caught at least a bit of energy, you decided to continue trough a make-up store to see where it leads. But mostly you chose this route because of the hospital war right behind it. Ellie went to open up the door just when it got torn from the doorframe.

A huge man in a leather coat came out of the doorframe, holding a massive hammer in his arms as he walked up to Ellie, having an obvious message inside his face. He hadn't noticed you, so you ducked behind one of the covers, taking out the machete from the place you've had it at. You knew it will come in handy - yet you couldn't know it will be so soon.

Ellie was in life-threatening danger - but you couldn't go to a one-on-one fight with this man. Against him, you were a branch on a dead tree. But you could surprise him. All it took was a bit of patience and a lot of hope that Ellie won't get hurt or killed before that moment.

Your guts told you when it was safe to go after the man, jumping on his shoulders and piercing the machete through his chest. This one was way stiffer than going for someone's neck, that was for sure. While you were hanging on the man's back, pushing the machete deeper with your torso, Ellie picked up on her legs and took her revolver out, going after the big guy's companion who was shooting arrows at you.

It was pure chaos, to say the least. The big guy groaned in pain as you felt your chest meet his shoulder blades, meaning that the machete cut through him. Finally, you felt the man collapsing under you while Ellie still had her little shoot out with the other Scar.

When the man was finally laying on his back, you could see the tip of your weapon coming out of his upper belly. But no matter how much the guy was hurt, he didn't seem to be dying just yet. So, without hesitation, you leaned down to rip the sledgehammer out of his grasp, finishing him for good.

The man was fighting back forcefully. He tried to push you down so much that you involuntary decided to fall into the deepest pit of the brutal animality - you stepped in his face with your boot, finally securing the sledgehammer... Smashing it right into his skull without the slightest attempt to stop yourself from making a jam out of the human being's organs.

The crack haunted your ears for another five minutes. You were standing above the dead body, watching everything sort of slowly leaking out of the man's skull. Your stomach was still kicking in, but you didn't feel anything anymore. The view was gross to look at, but... Your consciousness was completely quiet. There wasn't single remorse, no bad thoughts haunting your head, panic attack, or grossing out about yourself.

It scared you - especially when you realized that the only thought making you angry was that your machete was now stuck in the man's body, which made it unusable now. Unless you'd be willing to turn him on his back and pull it out again. Which you didn't want to do that at all. - "Fucking hell. Are you okay?" - Ellie turned her head at you and you, with an empty expression, turned your head at her back. Without a word, you nodded and went to check the other room to see if there's anyone still alive there.

It struck at the very moment. The emptiness inside your chest and head. You figured out why was it there. It finally clicked inside your head. This was what being fueled by rage felt. On the inside, you were eaten alive by hatred because of Joel. Sure, there was this thing about revenge which made you come to Seattle in the first place, but it wasn't the emotion of rage at the time. Yet the longer Joel wasn't there, the longer you processed that the Scars maybe killed him on the unfinished bridge, the more of rage was ramping inside of you. His disappearance made you lashing out on two occasions now - how many of these sudden lashing outs did you have in front of you? None? One? Ten?

This could cost you your life if you wouldn't be careful. And if you'd get that WLF whore into your hands... Oh, boy.

"Ellie?" - A mumble filled the silence as you made your way forward, swimming in deep water because there was no other way to get into the hospital complex. At the moment, you both stopped and just tried to keep your heads above the surface. The girl looked you in the eyes, knitting her eyebrows together. - "Don't let me get to Nora under any circumstances, can you promise me that?" - This demand clearly surprised your best friend. But to a certain degree, she could understand what was that about.

She didn't believe that Joel would get killed by a bunch of bow-shooting, whistling savages. No. He was a man who had to have his own back for twenty years. This very man was capable of murdering a whole patrol consisting of twenty people inside of a Pittsburg hotel, which she saw with her own eyes. This man taught her every small thing about survival inside the enemy's territory - from how to sneak around to making them terrified of her.

Yet the weird, unsettling feeling was tickling her guts. It was more or less a what-if situation which her brain wasn't accepting. No. Joel had to be alive. The man had to be fucking alive. Because she knew that if you'd bump into Joel's body hung just like the man you've seen being executed earlier, she'd fall into a way deeper and way more aggressive state than you were at. So, your demand made sense to her, having her promise you to keep you out of Nora's presence by any means necessary.

You entered the hospital through the lower floor, which was mostly flooded. Both of you went into an immediate quiet mode as soon as you recognized that you've finally entered the enemy's territory. Now, there weren't any bow-shooting savages who sometimes knew how to use a bow. Now, you had to be extra-careful, since you found yourself in a hospital full of trained soldiers. Especially, when one of them was sitting on a box with their back turned at you. - "Stay here. I'll deal with her, try to ask where Nora is." - Ellie instructed you before swimming off. With a quick nod, you caught one of the flooded boilers to take a bit of rest.

Ellie swung behind the person, putting her ejection knife to the girl's throat, tearing headphones out of her ears. - "Don't make a fucking sound." - Ellie muttered with ice-cold calmness, using her knee to make the girl raise both her palms up. - "Hands up." - Ellie said her point out loud, making sure she had control over the situation.

"Easy... Easy." - "You know a girl named Nora?" - Ellie asked instead of lowering her attention too much. - "Sure, yeah." - The girl nodded frantically. The sound of her gulping traveled all the way to you. - "Where is she?" - "In the hospital." - "Where in the hospital?" - You could physically see Ellie rolling her eyes at the dodging answers the headphone girl was giving her. But in the next moment, as the muscles on Ellie's arm flexed and pushed the knife closer to the girl's throat, she finally decided to speak clearly.

"They're c-clearing the upper floors. She's somewhere in there." - With the realization, you saw that Ellie's attention faded away into the background as she thought about something. That was the moment the headphones girl could fight for her life, and so, she was quick to take her own knife out, turning out to face Ellie. Ellie managed to grasp the girl's wrist holding the knife, keeping it away from her body. Without you grasping the situation, Ellie's arm sprung forward, stabbing the girl's throat straight forward, making you stop for a second.

You took a moment to see Ellie's response before you swam after your friend as you both watched the girl suffocating in her own blood. Well, this was starting in a splendid way. - "This didn't go as planned, did it?" - You asked and leaned closer to the girl, watching her face for the first time. And she was offputtingly familiar to your eyes. But honestly, you couldn't determine if she was a part of Baldwin or not in the state you were at.

"Fuck, of course, it didn't go as planned. Holy shit." - Ellie sighed, catching her temples with both her palms, trying to calm herself down. It was your time to intervene - so you stood up in front of her, catching both her shoulders in your palms. - "Calm the fuck down." - You mumbled, having the girl lowering her arms down as she started to stare at you. - "We need to move our asses if we don't want the WLF finding us standing above their stabbed friend. Get your shit together and let's go."

It was funny to see how your roles suddenly changed. Just a day ago, you puked the fuck out of you after you left the TV station, having Ellie and Dina calming you down, telling you that what you did was the right response in the situation you've found yourself in. Now, you were calming Ellie down after her body performing an automatic self-defense reaction. Ellie slowly nodded, gulped, and remained herself to keep her shit together, as you put it.

Both of you were so close to finding Nora. Nora who knew Abby. That Nora who was photographed with the rest of the Jackson-attacking WLF party. The woman who could tell you where Abby could be. So, you set on your way through the whole hospital. - "By the way, did Dina found any more things out? About Owen, Mel, maybe the Hispanic man?" - You asked when you gathered some bullets you've found in a small storeroom next to the spot the headphones girl was sitting at. - "I mean, we can maybe continue when you confront Nora. We don't even have to stop." - You offered, but to your disappointment, Ellie just shook her head.

"Yeah, from what Dina understood when I and Jesse got back," - "Jesse is here? Our black-haired Jesse? Jackson Jesse?" - You shot back almost immediately. The girl slowly straightened up, looking at you. There was no proper time to tell you she found Jesse instead of Tommy when she was in Hillcrest. - "He went after us all the way just the other fucking day after we left Jackson. Listen, I don't know what was he thinking either?" - "Fuck it. Just tell me what Dina found out." - You mumbled angrily, shoving some chocolate bar you've found down your throat.

This situation was bad. And it was seemingly getting worse and worse with each passing hour. If you'd be in Jackson, you'd be shaken just by the thought of killing someone else. Let alone sledgehammering their skull. But there you were, doing all you had to do if you wanted to survive long enough to see another day. But with Jesse joining you in Seattle, there was another unknown added to the equation. Dina was fucking pregnant with this boy. He was another person to feed, to look after, to protect. Sure, he could be helpful in more ways than in which was he a deadweight, but still... Your gut told you that Jesse joining you on your small Seattle quest was something that was about to end fucking bad.

"Dina thinks that Owen had gone AWOL, possibly with Mel, we don't know that yet. She was mentioned in the reports about Owen." - "AWOL?" - You asked back and Ellie thought about other ways to tell you the piece of information. - "He went dark, disappeared, WLF don't know where he is at this moment." - She explained swiftly.

The piece of information made you stop everything you were doing for a small moment as you looked Ellie in the eyes again. Owen had gone dark? Did he disappear? The man who was helping Abby with every moment of fucking you up was nowhere to be found at the moment? Was there a possibility you wouldn't get him the piece of humble pie he deserved? Why was it crumbling all down? Trying to get through it, you nodded, sighing once again.

"Let's go." - Your best friend patted your shoulder, leading you through the first floor of the hospital. Yet just when you were about to leave into a small opened space with a big white tent, her arm pulled you down. - "I kinda forgot to mention they have dogs. Look around, we need some plan to get done with this... Quietly." - Ellie instructed you. The information about the dogs made you worried. What should you do with an animal like this? While you couldn't take care of the dogs, you could see a way of keeping the men under your eye.

"See that nest out there?" - You asked, motioning to the other side of the small yard. - "Get me up there and we can make it work." - So, it was decided. For the first time, you tried to keep the whole operation as quiet as possible, making sure you dispose of the dead WLFs in a way so their friends couldn't see them right away. Soon enough, you were kneeling inside the nest, having a dead sniper laying on the ground behind you. It was your time to shine while Ellie was working manually down there, making her way to the inside.

Your plan was easy - making some noise outside, diverting the attention to the yard for Ellie to have her space inside. Which you could make work because Ellie gave you a pre-prepared Molotov and another empty bottle. So far, your estimations involving proximity worked, so why would you fail now, right? First, you threw the bottle out, waiting for the first ones coming out. There weren't many of them, so had to pick a different approach.

You grabbed the rifle which was laying there, firing to the air to alert the WLFs. Sure. What now? - "Trespasser! In the tent!" - You yelled to lure them exactly where you wanted them to be. And to your surprise, they gathered around the tent, searching through it. At that moment, you felt it's right to throw the bottle. And so you did. All you did was sitting there, listening to what you've caused in horror as it slowly settled down.

The whole tent was now on fire. Because you threw a Molotov at it shamelessly. To divert their attention. Now, you were watching a group of people you've just set on fire along with the tent. First, you let yourself somewhere back there in the bridge-building. Then, you killed a guy in a gruesome way. Now, you set people on fire. But it worked because soon enough, you heard the WLF going after Ellie, who infiltrated the building.

For quite a long time, you just sat there with your back leaned to the nest's wall, looking down on the yard to see if something goes bad. It was hard to say how much time passed by when Ellie crawled out of a different end of the yard. Just one look told you the shit, whatever happened there, went downhill. Usually, you being the clumsy one, you ended up covered in blood since you entered Seattle. But now, Every small piece of Ellie's clothing was ravaged in small splashes of blood. Without much hesitation, you climbed down, dragging Ellie out of the hospital, setting back on your way to the theatre.

Once you didn't feel threatened with the WLFs, infected or the Scars, you sat Ellie down to catch some breath. - "Okay, start talking." - You mumbled to the disoriented girl. Her breath was shallow and somehow, the seemed to be out of the world. Just after you shook her shoulders, her palms gripped your forearms as she partially got back to reality. - "You're freaking me out, Ellie. What happened?" - You mumbled, watching Ellie, sitting opposite of her to keep her mentally with you at least a bit.

"It's about... Nora. She's dead." - The girl breathed out, trying to search for words to say. - "The Scars? Did the Scars kill Nora as well?" - You answered immediately to keep the flow going. Ellie shook her head and looked into your eyes. - "I did... I have... I killed her, Y/N. I did it." - Then you didn't get the issue of the situation. Ellie had murdered tens, maybe hundreds of people before. Why would Nora shake her guts so hard? - "I didn't want to, but she didn't give any other option. I chased her down to an area full of spores... And... Then... It got into me." - Ellie started to ramble, but you didn't say a word. You just listened to what she had on her mind. You've seen Ellie with tears in her eyes rarely, yet there you were, having the girl trembling under your fingers.

"It got so personal. I was standing above her when she started to swing the pipe at me, but she was already suffocating. All I could see was she and her friends hurting you and Tommy in the cabin, realizing Nora probably knows where Abby is now. And I hit her. And then I hit her again. And again." - She explained and shook her head. This was getting into her head as well, which was breaking you apart. Gently, you let the girl slowly slip into your arms as you smoothed her back with quiet hums. - "The Seattle Aquarium." - Ellie whispered suddenly. - "She might be in the aquarium."

While you gathered your mind to realize what did that mean, you didn't spot the shadow lurking behind you. But suddenly, something grabbed both of you.

[the-enigma-of-me]

Why do we wait?

Do you ever think about the thousands of things God wants to tell us or the thousands of things He wants to do for and with us? My mind has wondered about that for quite some time, and as my sleep-deprived mind wanders down and around, it keeps coming back to it. 

In a Grief Observed C. S. Lewis writes, 

“God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.” 

He wrote A Grief Observed after the death of his wife. It is with that beautifully written literature and a poem titled Our Greatest Fear written by Marianne Williamson that I find inspiration. 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,

talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of

God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,

we unconsciously give other people

permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,

Our presence automatically liberates others.

—Marianne Williamson

And now me, less poetic than those two but inspired nonetheless. I ask you to imagine with me a God you must wait for.

As you drive to his house to pick him up to see a movie that starts at 7. You knock on his door at 6:30 and you see he hasn’t even taken a shower yet. Angry you tell him you won’t pick him up if he will just make you late. 

So learning your lesson you tell him you’ll meet him there at the movies at 7:00. But God doesn’t show up until 7:30. He left you waiting, alone. 

Imagine waiting for God daily, He takes too long in the shower, leaves for parties when they start. On a school project, He sends his work on the night of. At a restaurant you are ready to order and are starving but he sends the server back because he isn’t ready to order. 

Of course, the idea of waiting for God is completely unimaginable but I feel, for myself at least, that sometimes I feel as though I am. 

But you see, the truth of the matter is God is always waiting for us. He is “Trying an experiment on my faith.” And he knows the outcome and he is waiting for us to figure it out. Perhaps it is in my pride where I stand at God's door-knocking and ringing the doorbell but God has already left and is waiting for me at the movie theater. 

“It is our light, not our darkness.”

Our possibility with God is unfathomable, so much so that we fear the outcome of it. I refuse to believe that it is my fault that I am not moving forward. 

I and God stand at the starting line of a mile run, 4 laps round and I am done. I check my shoes to make sure they are tied. Drink a quick sip of water and do a few stretches, get into my ready position, and hear the gun go off. A quick 4 laps where each lap is better than the last and I cross the line only to see myself alone on it. God is gone, and I think well I did everything right, I tied my shoes, stretched, improved every lap. Where is God? I guess I have to wait for him to finish, and then I get a phone call from him asking where I am. Pridefully I respond, “I finished! Where are you? I’m waiting at the end.” 

And God simply replies, “So am I…” God would have continued but I interrupted him,” No you aren’t I’m at the end of the mile and you aren’t here.” 

My pride and my sinful nature demand that I shift the blame away from myself. But God, who is loving and powerful replies, “A mile? The race doesn’t end at the mile, that’s the warm-up. It’s a marathon, I’m at the end of the marathon.” 

Levi Lusko said this and it won’t be an exact quote because I cannot find it. 

Why does God refuse to meet us halfway? 

Because he has already gone the full way. Once for himself, and once for us. And I hope I do not repeat myself but I fear I must. How could we with our human nature ever have to wait for a God who created the heavens and earth. As if He misplaced His car keys, or forgot to fill the car with gas. No, that is not possible, now don’t misunderstand there may be a need for God to teach us patience. But he is always the Teacher and we are always the student. 

But this was not to discuss my pride, instead, it was to discuss the possibility. With God as my guide, I cannot fail if I go where He leads. I thought I could run a mile God knew I could run a marathon. When doubts creep at you at the sight of the mountain in front of you. Causing you to second guess yourself, God knows you can do it. 

He doesn’t set us up to fail, He is showing us what we can do through Him. 

“There’s always a bigger fish.” 

There’s always a bigger mountain, but God has summited them all. And He stands at the top saying, “Do not hesitate, do not wait, with Me, there is nothing holding you back. No mountain is too tall, no circumstance too difficult, no darkness too dark. Go, go, go, run!” 

Don’t get me wrong, it will not be easy. Trials and tribulations, but listen, God is waiting. He’s waiting for you. But too often we stand waiting at a door that isn’t even locked waiting for someone to open it for us. We are at the very edge of a cliff, parachute on our back all we must do is jump and we hesitate because it is easier to stand. It is safer to stand overlooking the edge rather than to jump and leave all safety behind us. 

So jump, reach heights you never dreamed possible. You have within you the ability to do so, do away with your regards for safety. Let loose whatever may hold you back, don’t you know it weighs you down? Soar on the wings God has given you and let His light shine through you. 

[killervibe]

Tethered

“Cisco.” Her cold voice pierced his ears.

He steadied his breathing and closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. There was so much Cisco was hiding. So many secrets he was keeping from everyone it felt like if he took so much as a wrong turn everything would come spilling out. And this tone of voice Caitlin was using, this one so new and distorted, and yet, familiar. A call for him across the Cortex, a warning to reel back his sass. It was perfectly crafted to hide her emotion, to pike his intrigue and force him to turn and pay her all his attention, to give her his everything and simply listen to what she had to say. To make him quiet or to make him spill, and it didn’t matter which of the two it was now because everything Cisco now did, every facial expression every word every breath of crisp cold air in his lungs could reveal everything he had packed tighter than snow could ever allow.

Cisco shivered in his apartment, his fleece sweater doing nothing for him. He’s been fiddling with his thermostat for the last three weeks since Caitlin has come to stay here, and still, it did little to help him. He went back up to it now, cranking it up. His breathing came out in puffs of air, crystallizing in front of him.

  “Cisco,” she said again. Cisco swallowed.

Caitlin’s hair was stark white, and her complexion paler than death. The eyes that bore into him, however, were a cobalt blue that played in his dreams ever since she haunted them by dying.

Cisco sat carefully next to her on his couch. He rubbed his chapped hands together.

“Tell me something,” she said. And she called herself Killer Frost now, shot him withering looks whenever he called her by name, her beautiful, wonderful name, but now she tilted her head at him, the white curls falling to the side, and she considered her next phrase as his heart lurched in his chest. It was a very Caitlin Snow thing to do.

“Tell me something,” she repeated. “The day you came to release me from the hospital.”

Cisco stared at his lap. Waiting.

“How did you do it?”

“How did I do it?” he whispered, faintly.

~.~

It was rather simple and 100% accidental to be precise.

Cisco was sitting at home staring at a snapped necklace he had spent hours devoting to guarantee it did it’s damn job when he got the alert.

Cisco had signed up for the program 5 years ago. He wasn’t one to tempt with fate or to sit and look out every window, wistfully sighing over a predestined match. Cisco was never one to surround his life over possibility or chances that did not work in his favour, so, like most people of the 21st century, he left the idea of his goddamn soulmate alone.

But Cisco cared for them anyway. For their health and safety, and overall happiness, wherever they were, whoever they chose to be. The fee to register with the Soulmate Wellbeing Program felt like a justifiable cost to bring closure in his life should they pass away, or to be an extra hand if he were their last hope in affliction. Being his soulmate’s kin without even a face or a name to go with their undisclosed serial number was a little weird, the legal rights they had to his being and vice versa was something he never exactly wanted to be responsible with, nor thought was a great governmental idea when it was legislated after the second world war. That power to use it out of his own want simply if he pleased, to access hospital records and make decisions over their body felt to him like a man’s loophole to revert anything requiring consent.

So when the alert came from the Soulmate Wellbeing Program that Cisco’s soulmate was admitted to Central City’s Centre of Psychiatric Care, prompting him to view files, he hesitated, glancing at Caitlin’s lost necklace with a sigh of defeat before putting it away and clicking the link.

He read the patient’s admit file and froze. Then immediately grabbed his coat and keys and made a run for the door.

Checking Caitlin out only required an ID check and a signature, but he did stop to ask the nurse at the station how she had been brought in.

“A british man,” the nurse said, seemingly relieved to have been rid of Killer Frost. “With blond hair. He brought her in.”

Cisco narrowed his eyes and clenched the desk, brisk with his thanks. His mind was still reeling with his newfound information, with this missing detail that had been dark in his life for so many years, he could hardly fathom it, and was about to ask another question. But Caitlin was brought to him, blank and dull, a thin firm line pressed against her mouth, but willingly ready to leave with Cisco without snark or question.

“You do not need to be locked up,” he said firmly, breaching her to his apartment later that night. “Caitlin, I know you can hear me. Everything Julian has been telling you are lies. You don’t need to be locked up. You’re not crazy and you don’t need to be fixed.”

“What do I need, then?” Killer Frost said at last, meeting his eyes, and for a fraction of a second Cisco swore he saw the old Caitlin.

I don’t know. But I’ll take care of you, always, just as you did with me. Let me love you, Caitlin. Caitlin Snow. My soulmate. 

The words bubbled inside under his tongue, threatening to spill from his lips.

Cisco shrugged, and rubbed his arms around himself, freezing as the temperature plummeted.

“Food?”

~.~

Caitlin looked at her nails, before glancing back at him. Cisco sat very still and forced himself to look back.

"You would only be able to do that if you were immediate family or my.... or my soulmate."

His breath caught involuntarily, hearing her say it.  

She kept going, but paused at his behaviour, eyeing him with something that should frighten him, which would frighten him if he were anyone but exactly who she’s accusing him to be.

Caitlin’s mouth dropped open slightly, the most genuine expression Cisco has seen on her face in days. Her eyebrows steadily rose up to meet her white hairline.

The tears flooding Cisco’s eyes were there without his permission, and he swallowed the devastation down that this was how she found out. That after all these years of together, unknowing, blissfully unaware that they were each other’s person. And it was his fault it happened like this, it was his fault for keeping it his dark secret, but how could Cisco sit Killer Frost down and find a way to tell her that wouldn’t utterly cause him to break? He had imagined every possible scenario, her laughing in his face, her accusing him of making up lies at his desperate attempt to keep her, his imagination playing tricks.

And none of them would be what he knew how Caitlin Snow would react, his soulmate, because this girl in front of him, this maddening literal cold-blooded girl he loved so fiercely even without soulbond knowledge refused to be her.

Cisco took her hand, flattening her icicled fingers until his own were numb, placing it on his lap. Frost seeped through his thick clothes as he told her, “That’s because…” he worked his jaw open and gave a weak, tearful laugh. “That’s because, Caitlin. You are.”

“No,” she said automatically.

Cisco steeled himself and continued. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. It’s you.”

“No,” she said again, but Cisco’s eyes widened because this was a quiet, pleading no. Killer Frost’s blue lips trembled, and her hand shook in his.

“No,” she choked out, distraught, and her eyes flickered again, this time, Cisco not imagining it. “No,” Caitlin said. “No.”

“It’s true, Caitlin.” He reached for his phone and showed her the app for the program. The one she knew was always on his phone left abandoned.

“Cisco, no,” she whimpered, but colour was returning to her skin and Cisco simply held onto her tightly, letting it sink in. Rose flushed against her cheeks and her irises slowly morphed darker, her lips lighter and lighter until it was the pale pink from her deathbed.

And there is no magic with soulmates. No special feeling that tingles through your toes. No zolt or zap or Einstein theory on souls.

But the knowledge of being soulmated, bound to one person forever by fate cannot be fabricated or recreated or feigned.

It’s a real feeling that settles in your bones. A simple light switch from ignorance to cognizance once unearthed, cannot be stolen.

Cisco’s fingers were close to being frostbitten, and he removed his touch with heartache. He’d never be able to touch her, to kiss her, or take her in his arms like before. Their entire years snatched away with a twisted turn of timelined fate.

But they were scientists who built on numbers and facts and the truth was this was how they were, and always meant to be. And in that same way it meant there was no doubt in Cisco’s mind that this would not end in tragedy.

Caitlin caught him off guard, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. He shuddered, wondering if this was how he died as he foolishly forgot all caution and wrapped his arms around her neck. It was cold and electrifying but she was not stealing his breath, not in the way that forced frost down his throat, freezing him inside out, and in fact, she folded, melting into his embrace, pushing herself closer as steam hissed between them like a sauna. Cisco opened an eye, and pulled away and so did Caitlin, stunned.

They sat there, breathing heavily, Caitlin gasping, staring at her own hands like they were broken weapons.

“Caitlin,” he said, and this time it’s she who turned and listened. Silver and blue danced back into her eyes and face as the old, temporarily unleashed Caitlin slithered back down into the depths of this new one. Cisco sighed and so did she, shifting away as heat vanished and he shivered again, returning to distanced and cold still as they were the same but something has shifted. “We’re going to make this work.”  

She nodded jerkily and took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Cisco started to ramble, his secrets flooding out like a disintegrating dam. He rubbed his arms up and down his sleeves, trying to gain some warmth. “I haven’t told anybody but Julian might be suspicious what with me cutting him off your whereabouts at the hospital and I still don’t know what to tell Barry or Iris, they still think you’ve disappeared to join Savitar and--”

“Cisco,” Caitlin said. He went quiet, but his eyes danced, couldn’t help it really, not with the way his heart was racing and teeth chattering, so filled with hope. 

“Put up the heat,” she said eventually, meeting Cisco’s gaze with the smallest of smirks. “Wouldn’t want my soulmate to freeze to death.”

[shellsan]

30 Day Writing Challenge

Day One: Explosion

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Pre-Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes, Pre-Tony Stark/The Winter Soldier

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or the MCU

Explosion

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Walking out of the tower, Tony mentally sighed in relief when he wasn't accosted by a group of waiting paparazzi or nearly bowled over by some journalist who wanted to hear about any of the up and coming news. Of course, just because he couldn't see them didn't mean that Tony was oblivious to the fact they were probably still there, laying in wait and taking photos so that they could spin some elaborate tale for the gossip magazines. But that was fine – he'd been dealing with that for years.

Lost in thought, Tony hummed the notes to ACDC's Highway to Hell lightly as he turned down the street, heading towards his favourite cafe to pick up a caffeine hit, deciding that he deserved it after a long day of meetings.

Of course he could have just made something fancy back at the tower – he was more than capable and had enough ingredients for it – but it was nice to get out for a change. He'd been feeling a little cooped up.

Turning another corner, Tony stopped all of sudden, eyebrows furrowing. Even though nothing really seemed overly out of place, there was something about this street that was screaming to his senses that he shouldn't walk down it.

Never one to listen to sense however – or turn away from danger – he casually messed with the iron man bracelets, calling for the suit just in case as he cautiously walked down the side walk.

Seconds after he'd reached half way down the street (the point where a normal person would have let down their guard, a mistake he was not prone to) there was a loud explosion and he found himself being blown from one side of the road to nearly the other footpath, ears ringing from the sound and eyes going fuzzy.

On instinct he reached up and winced at the feeling of blood from his head, crimson wetness spilling over his fingers as he reluctantly pulled  them away from the wound. Great. Just what he needed.

Urging the suit to appear faster, Tony frowned as he pushed himself from the ground, refusing to wince even as one of his ribs moved in a way that it was not supposed to and his shoulder cried in protest from how he'd landed on it.

On guard, the engineer looked around, keen eyes searching for the cause of the explosion.

His eyes landed on a single man who was walking towards him, a mask covering his face and gear practically screaming 'assassin'.

Naturally.

Where the hell was his suit anyway?

“It's not safe here.” The man said.

Tony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he gave the man an incredulous look. Did he really think that it wasn't clear that he was the one who caused the initial accident?

“I'm pretty sure that's been made clear.” He settled on finally, and raised eyebrow (which ow, shouldn't do that apparently) as he gestured towards himself. “But that doesn't mean I’m going anywhere with you. My mother taught me not to go random places with strangers.”

He didn't feel the need to add that it was a rule he'd found strangely impossible to follow.

The man growled. “You will come with me regardless.” He informed, not a bit of doubt in his voice, as though it was just another fact.

Think again.

As the man moved to grab Tony, he ducked under his arm (ow, his rib really hurt now) and spun, aiming a kick for the back of the guys knee to hopefully slow him down but instead finding himself caught and then hauled over guys shoulder.

“It's not safe here.” The unknown assassin stated once more, like Tony needed to be told that a second time, before he turned and started down the street, turning into an alley and moving quickly through the back streets of New York, ignoring the endless complaints that Tony was throwing at him.

It was another forty minutes of travel (damn it how was this guy not even having trouble breathing at this pace while carrying Tony as well?) before they reached the warehouse district and found themselves set up in some abandoned building.

How cliché.

When he said so aloud, he only got a grunt and glare in response.

Not much of a talker, it seemed.

Unfortunately for him then, he'd kidnapped the wrong person if he wanted any peace and quiet.

“So, you gonna tell me why you've stolen me away? Usually this is the point where people start making demands, so I'm listening. What is it you're after? You let me live this long so you have to want something.”

The unknown man's eyebrows furrowed, although whether he was confused or annoyed it was hard to tell, so  Tony was going for the safest option which was to assume he was both.

“Not kidnapped. Protection.” The man explained – or at least he looked like he was explaining something, Tony had to disagree. That didn't explain a thing.

Scoffing, he crossed his arms, wincing at how it jostled every injury he'd managed to get. “I don't know if you noticed, buddy, but these injuries didn't come from a couple rounds in the ring.”

Was that guilt on his face.

“Hydra wanted to you. Couldn't let them take you. Must protect the mechanic.” The man assured.

Tony sighed, somehow not at all shocked to hear that it was hydra who had mounted the attack. Although if what this guy was saying was true then he had him to thank for saving him from spending some time enduring hyrda's hospitality.

But some things were still not adding up for him.

“And I assume I am the mechanic then. What for? What's your name? Can you take off the mask so I can see your face?” Tony asked, curious to see.

The man looked a little confused. “I am the asset. The asset can not remove the mask without express permission for its handler.” It recited, voice more robotic than it had been previously and Tony wished he could take back the words.

Somehow he didn't think he was going to like this one bit.

“And who is your handler?” He tried, leaving the whole 'asset' shtick alone for a moment.

The man's eyes seemed calculating as he replied. “The asset's handler is currently the mechanic; Anthony Edward Stark. Primary goal: protect the mechanic.” He recited. But there was something different about the way he'd said it to how he'd recited the first lot.

“And who assigned your handler?”

“The asset did.”

The response was not at all what he'd been expecting and it took Tony a moment to form words before he gave in and gave the 'asset' and incredulous look. “Why?”

“The asset requires regular maintenance to its arm. The mechanic will provide.”

Automatically, Tony found himself glancing down at the man's arms to figure out what the hell that meant and that was when he noticed that one of his hands was metal.

“Holy shit, how did I not notice that?” The engineer breathed, fingers twitching as he fought the urge to just reach out and touch, cursing himself for getting so distracted that he hadn't noticed something that obvious.

Something that seemed akin to amusement flashed in the other man's eyes but it was gone before Tony really had a chance to examine it closer.

Forcing his mind back on track, Tony tried to figure out how exactly he was supposed to get around this situation. He wasn't about to stay in some dingy warehouse while he waited for someone to realise that he'd been kidnapped and he definitely didn't trust someone who called themselves the 'asset'. Like they weren't even human.

Apparently he'd asked the question out loud because the man seemed to go cold as he addressed Tony. “The Asset was a creation born of Hyrda, code named The Winter Soldier on mission. It is not human.”

The statement was said so simply that Tony choked a little on what he was going to say.

“Well uh, I don't know about you buddy, but from where I'm sitting, you look just as human as I do. But if you're one of Hyrda's goons, what are you doing helping me?”

The Soldier looked confused for a moment. “The Voice says that I'm malfunctioning in a good way. It suggested that the asset choose a new handler, a better handler. It approved of you as the choice.” He stated finally.

Sighing, Tony rubbed gently at his temples, ignoring the flare of pain in his shoulders. “So, this voice. Do you know what it is?”

“The voice has always been with the asset. Sometimes he would go quiet for a while after the asset was wiped, but he would always come back. Hydra has no knowledge of the voice. The voice says that if they knew, they would get rid of him.” He states, before his voice goes a little soft and Tony almost melts at the slightly lost and guilty look on the Soldier's face. “The Asset likes the voice. Didn't want it to leave, so it kept quiet. Are you unhappy with the asset?”

Tony's blood froze at the implications he could draw from that sentence, and he cursed himself for his lack of tact. “No. You did fine. But listen, I can't call you the asset. It sounds wrong and it's just not my speed so we need to think of something better.” He suggested, trying to switch gears.

The Asset looked even more confused. “You wish to call the Asset by another name? It is your right as handler.”

Sighing, Tony did his best not to look exasperated. It wouldn't do him any good anyway. From what he'd managed to gather so far, the man in front of him was an unwilling assassin who worked for hydra but managed to break their programming somehow – it probably had something to do with this voice in his head – and was now on the run and had chosen Tony to be their 'handler' or in this case, director of sorts?

He was too tired for this shit.

“I want something to call you by that seems less demeaning. Is there something you prefer to be called?”

“Soldat.”

Tony shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

The soldier seemed to deflate at that and Tony groaned, not bothering to pretend he wasn't frustrated. “Alright how about this. You said that your code name was The Winter Soldier, right? How does Winter sound?” He tried.

'Winter' was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider it before a small smile formed on his face. “Winter. It is acceptable. The Voice also seems happy.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Tony relaxed slightly. “Alright, now that we have that covered, how about we consider getting a move on? We can't stay here indefinitely, and I do have to get back to my company.” He pointed out.

Winter looked unsure. “You are safe here. I must keep you safe.”

Tony shook his head. “You can't keep me here in an attempt to keep me safe. I have a life and the world doesn't stop turning because you want to keep me safe.” He informed, trying to be gentle.

Biting his lip, Tony considered his options. “You can come with me? To keep me safe?” He offered.

It was a ridiculous thing to offer. He didn't really know this man and for all he knew this was just another ploy from Hyrdra in order to gain his trust and access his tower. But a larger part of him ached to help the man. Winter was alone with just the voice in his head to help keep him sane and safe from Hyrda's clutches, and Tony would be damned if he would let them get their hands on him again.

He knew a little something about being an unwilling prisoner after all, and he'd wish that upon no-one.

“Your terms are acceptable.” Winter stated finally, moving to pick Tony up from the crate that he'd spent the better part of two hours sitting on at this point only to tilt his head when Tony glared at him.

“You aren't carrying me again.”

“You can't walk yourself. You are injured.”

It was a logical argument that would work on anyone else, but Tony Stark was nothing if not stubborn.

“I'll manage.”

Winter frowned. “You will hurt yourself further.”

“Worth it.”

“I cannot allow you to do that. You're health and safety is my directive.”

“Still a nope.”

Winter seemed to accept it after a moment of silence and Tony relaxed, giving himself a moment before pushing himself onto his feet. “Alright, lets go- what the hell do you think you're doing?”

Something about Winter's facial expression in that moment was borderline smug as he held Tony carefully princess style in his arms, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“The Voice explained that if you were going to be difficult it would be easier to just pick you up. You are not strong enough to break free.” It was said as a statement of fact, although the level of satisfaction he seemed to be feeling was not nearly warranted in Tony's opinion.

He struggled for a moment before hissing when it moved things in the wrong direction, finally letting himself settle down with a pout on his face as he pointedly refused to look at Winter now out of spite.

This didn't seem to concern him in the least.

“At least let me take off the mask. You stick out like a sore thumb with it on even in the back alleys.” Tony grumbled after a few moments of silence.

Winter tilted his head. “I told you. The handler may remove the mask if they wish.” He reminded.

Huffing out a laugh, Tony sighed. “Gotta do all the hard work around here.” He teased before shifting a little to undo the clasps of the mask and gently pull it off.

There was a moment of silence after Tony saw the face of the man who was carrying him before he came back to his senses, fingers clutching the mask tightly as he breathed out in disbelief something he never thought he would say.

“Holy shit, you're Bucky Barnes.”

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Little Peach, Chapter 13

Notes: As always, thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Apologies for the delay, life was deciding not to give me any peace and quiet for a while. This will probably be done in a chapter or two - but while I have your attention, you should know I'm planning to take a hiatus once this story is over. I feel like I've been making stories nonstop for several years, and as a result I'm feeling kinda drained, and my writing is suffering for it. I'd like to take a few months to recharge my batteries before I jump into my next project. It shouldn't be any longer than January/February.

Thanks for understanding and sticking through for this crazy ride.

Summary: As Mickey's parents come to terms with their sins, Mickey is tempted to create one of his own that may doom all of Japan.

Given how impressively tall and expansive the palace was, finding a spare room for Donald and Daisy was as easy as turning the corner. They thanked the Princess profusely for her kindness, but once they were alone, husband and wife could feel themselves molting from stress. They sat opposite from each other on the floor, backs to one another, their bodies heavy with the words Mickey had thrust at them. Donald had, at least, expected Mickey to return for his mother's sake, but he hadn't realized the depth of Mickey's anger and feelings of betrayal. Now he was starting to wonder if Mickey ever would come home, and what kind of life they'd have without him.

“Am I a bad mother?” Daisy suddenly asked, breaking the silence so sharply Donald felt his heart seize up.

“What?” At first, the question didn't register.

“Am I a bad mother?” Daisy repeated, glancing back at Donald. “To have my baby feel that way about me...he always did complain about me not letting him out and around, but I thought he was acting like all children did.” Had she been so concerned about Mickey's safety that she never gave a thought to his happiness? The comment about Mickey being little more than a stuffed doll had done a number on her soul – looking back, what had Mickey been allowed to do? If he never talked back, he really would have been nothing more than a toy for her to play with, and that was no attitude for a mother to have. “Maybe the gods were right to make sure I never had a child...”

“Don't.” Donald reached out behind him, fumbling to take Daisy's hand. “You're not a...” The immediate thought was to deny all of Daisy's negativity, reassure her that was she was perfect and could do no wrong just so she wouldn't be upset. Yet as he looked back on their lives together, he knew it wasn't fixing things. He always did her best to make her stop crying that it never occurred to her that he should just let her cry. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd shed tears himself, as such things were seen as weakness in a samurai. And who had told him that?

“Y'know,” he said again, eyes out on the nearby window, watching the sun crawl through the day. “My parents, Quackmore and Hortense Duck...they weren't perfect. I don't think a single day ever went by without them having an argument over something silly. Then they'd turn around and argue with me and Della, then me and Della would argue with each other. Despite all that, I wanted to be just like my father...a brave samurai who protected the people without a trace of fear. He's the one who trained me...he's the one who taught me how to bottle up everything I felt, so I could focus on my duties. If you don't show yourself how you feel, your enemies won't see it either.”

“That is incredibly unhealthy, honey.”

“I didn't say it worked! You know my temper better than anyone. But my father didn't hate me or resent me, he thought he was doing what was best. And I think that's what you were doing too. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do...but you never did it with any anger or malice. You love Mickey, and he knows it. There's no such thing as a perfect parent. And a parent's role doesn't end just because your baby isn't a baby anymore.”

He could feel Daisy trembling in his grip, and though it pained his heart to hear his beloved cry, he didn't try to stop it. Slowly, gently, he moved around to hold her in his arms, allowing her to sob into his chest. Grief and relief were mixed together, and as she cried, Donald looked at his injured arm, the one that had made him retire early and settle down with his bride. Looking back, his father had never said a word about it – no lectures of disappointment, no mocking of his abilities. Even if Donald was no longer what Quackmore had expected, it didn't stop Quackmore from loving his son and treating him like a member of the family. Donald had always thought he'd be the same type of father when he and Daisy were trying for children. But as he watched Daisy's wailing turn into more calmed sniffles, he realized that no one really understood parenthood until they became a parent. It was like being in combat – for all the hopes, lectures and lessons, nothing could teach a person better than actual experience.

Daisy's sobs eventually turned into gentle breathes, and she wiped her face with her sleeve. “Is he... really happy here?”

“I'd ask him, but I doubt he's in the mood to talk. But... the fact he landed a job here says a lot, I think.” He supposed sharing a last name helped Mickey get his foot in the door, but to actually keep a person this small on the job? Mickey must have done something right, though he couldn't be sure what it was. “Maybe he just needs some space. When it's the right time, we'll talk to him and...I guess we'll just see where we go from there.” If Mickey wanted to stay, Donald wasn't going to force him otherwise, as much as he wanted to. Mickey was an adult, even if he didn't look it, and given how shoddily Donald had treated him, did he have any right to tell Mickey what to do and where to go?

“You know...” Daisy sat up straighter, looking her husband in the eye. “You said I love Mickey, and yes, I do, with all my heart. But I haven't heard you say you love him. Can we really talk to him about his place in the family if you can't say it?” She didn't want to voice her real fear – did Donald love Mickey at all?

It was a justified fear, as Donald's silence was deafening. His tongue moved in his mouth, trying to form an answer that his mind wouldn't make. Any parent should be able to say “Yes, I love my child” automatically, shouldn't they? But Donald had shunned Mickey for so long, treated him as a disappointment instead of a person, and refused to get to know him. Now he knew the boy, and Mickey was apparently capable of great things – a good heart, a clever mind, and a strong will. These were things to be proud of, things Donald was sure he hadn't passed on to him, Mickey had developed them all on his own. Come to think of it, Mickey had every right in the world to be the opposite, given his size – but instead of looking at the world with hate and sadness, he wore a smile and helped others despite his disadvantage.

There was shuffling at the doorway, and both ducks were momentarily startled, so wrapped up in their family drama that the outside world had ceased to exist. The noises got louder, and Daisy got to her feet, eager for a distraction. She slid open the door, and saw Clarabelle trying to lift a heavy box, having to stop every now and then due to its weight. She  saw Pete as well, but he'd merely grabbed something from the box and dashed off before Clarabelle could admonish him. “What are you doing?” Daisy asked, tilting her head.

Clarabelle put the box down and wiped sweat from her forehead. “Oh, don't mind me! The Princess asked me to get rid of some things, and I'm doing it gladly! We'll be using this as kindling, maybe cook some sweet potatoes. I tell you, it's so gratifying to see her growing up!”

Daisy managed to take a peek at the inside of the boxes, which contained dozens of illustrated books. “Why is she getting rid of them?”

“She told me she doesn't need them anymore.” Granted, Minnie had decided to keep the first volume, “for the memories”, then decided she wanted to keep the volume that had the love confession, and the one with the special color illustrations, and then Clarabelle decided to quickly get to work before Minnie changed her mind altogether. “You know, she's started smiling a lot more since your son came to the palace. He's... not exactly who I'd choose, but I can't say I don't like him. A happy Princess makes for a happy land.”

Daisy was both pleased at her son making a genuine friend and terrified at the idea of losing her baby to a wedding. She shook her head, trying to stay grounded in reality. “Well, I can't just sit here and do nothing. Please, allow me to help!”

Given how many boxes and books were left in the Princess' room, Clarabelle was more than happy to have any help. “Sure thing! Just head out to the garden when you've got your hands full!”

Daisy glanced back at her husband, knowing he wouldn't be much help lifting heavy objects due to his injury, yet she was reluctant to leave him alone. “Is that all right, Donald?”

Donald nodded slowly. “Go ahead. I've got some thinking to do.” With permission granted, Daisy followed Clarabelle to the Princess' room. On his own, Donald began to pull out the sword on his belt, the one that had been handed down to him from his father, from his father, back many generations. Mickey would never be able to use it, but Donald could barely use it now. He stared at his reflection, unsure of the future.

~*~

It'd been several hours since Mickey had gone on “patrol”, but it really wound up with him storming up and down the hallways, so deep in his anger he wouldn't have actually noticed if an Oni had really shown up to cause trouble. Anger at his parents for embarrassing him in front of the Princess and his friends, anger at them for trying to control his life, but also anger at himself for lashing out at them. Though he wouldn't take back what he said exactly, there probably had been gentler ways to go about it. He wanted to go back to Donald and Daisy and see if they were all right, but pride wouldn't allow him. After a while, he asked Pluto to stop so he could hop onto a windowsill and collect himself. His three-pronged headaches were making an annoying return.

He had always assumed that if he was bigger, that would automatically make things better with his family. His mother would stop babying him and Donald would accept him as a son. Yet now doubts were starting to creep in on his plan – Minnie and his friends liked Mickey exactly the way he was, so why couldn't his parents? Maybe talking to Minnie would make him feel better. Talking to her always seemed to make him feel better, and his tail began to swish around just by her mere presence in his mind. She liked him just the way he was, yes, that was why he didn't mind waiting for his size to change.

“There you are!” Pete's voice came from behind, surprising Mickey so much he almost fell out of the window. “I've been looking all over for you, kiddo!”

Mickey stood up, brushing himself down, the sun starting to set behind him. “What for? It's not about the Lucky Hammer again, is it?”

“Nooooo.” With every “o”, Mickey believed him less and less. “I just wanted to see how you were doing, pal! Seemed like you were having a rough time with your folks.”

It wasn't like Pete to care, but at the same time, Mickey did want to vent out his struggles. “They just don't understand what I've been going through. Why, they're the reason I came here in the first place. I can't go back with them when I haven't accomplished anything.”

“Right, right! Why, you've got a whole life here you've made for yourself!” Pete replied, hiding something behind his back. “You've become a real samurai, you've got those weird friends of yours, not to mention the Princess is fawning all over you.”

Mickey felt his face grow hot, and he sheepishly looked away, scratching the back of his head. “Aw, I – I dunno if I'd say fawning...” Though he did like the sound of it. No matter the problems with his parents, at least he could turn to her. He did have Pete to thank for the relationship upgrade, so maybe the big guy wasn't so bad, rude as he was.

“I sure would! Fawning's a pretty good word for what she does over you. Who cares that your old man never wanted you around? I say, good riddance to bad rubbish. The Princess, now she wants you! You're just the man she's been looking for!”

In hindsight, Mickey should have been terribly suspicious about this set-up, but Pete was saying what Mickey wanted to hear. Donald wouldn't accept him until he was taller, but Minnie wanted him here and now. He decided to bask in the compliments, beaming, crossing his arms and holding his head high. “Is that right? You really think so?”

“Of course I'm right!” Pete was smiling, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was more like the way a snake sizes up its meal before going in for the gulp. “After all, you're exactly like the guy she actually wanted in the first place!”

Just as Pete had planned, the look of confusion struck instantly – Mickey blinked rapidly, unsure if he heard right. Even Pluto was cocking his head, making whining sounds of distrust. Pete let the sentence hang awkwardly in the air, allowing Mickey plenty of time to let his own doubts and self-loathing begin to rise up once more. “Wh...what are you talking about?”

“She didn't tell you?” Pete asked in mock surprise before whipping out the book he'd been hiding. “Funny, I thought she'd show you right away, seeing how much you look like her hero.” He licked his thumb, going through the pages until he found the right image. “Little lady's obsessed with this fake samurai, you can ask anyone who works here, they'll tell you the same! She wouldn't marry anyone unless they're just like him! And, wouldn't you know it...” He then turned the book around, showing Mickey a full color display of Sir Sakura – who for all the world looked exactly like Mickey, save for a few creative differences. “One day, he waltzes right into the palace! She must have thought it was a dream come true!”

Being as small as a peach pit for all his life, Mickey had no idea what a punch to the stomach really felt like – but perhaps this came close enough. He stared so deeply at the illustration that it was if he forgot how to blink. It was like looking into a bizarre mirror, and there was no mental loophole he could devise to get around it. Pete wouldn't tell a lie that would be easily corrected by asking around – who would? Mickey's shoulders began to sink, as did his heart. “She... she... she thinks I'm... this guy?” He asked softly, praying that Pete would tell him no, that somehow this was all made-up as part of a sadistic prank.

“Why else would she have you around?” Pete answered, his smile widening as he stabbed the knife deeper into Mickey's heart, twisting it around and watching Mickey's face crumbling in sheer agony. “Look at you, you're tiny! You couldn't protect a fly from a spider! You're a mama's boy who never learned how the world works! But, hey, you got a free ride to be Emperor, just because you look like a drawing! I say you hit the jackpot. No matter what you do, as long as you look like this guy, she'll want to be around you. Isn't that great?”

Now Mickey was afraid that if and when he finally did blink, he'd start to cry. Had Minnie only wanted him around because he looked like a man who didn't even exist? In a sick way, it was like his mother – who hadn't wanted him, but a little toy to coo and fuss over. He really did like talking with Minnie – had anything on her end been the truth? He wanted so desperately to believe it, but years of shame for being himself was stronger. Pluto whined, trying to reach up to push his nose in an affectionate nuzzle to Mickey's body, but Pete got in the way. “Hey, what's the long face for?” he asked as he tossed the book over his shoulder. “There's no use in getting upset over things you can't change. I mean, if there was some way to make people notice the real you, by taking away what made you different...”

And again, just as Pete had planned it, the nugget of an idea had been planted. Mickey began to lift his head up, the temptation hanging right above him. “Taking away what makes me different? What do you mean?”

“Well, just supposing...” Pete waved his hand, pretending this was all being made up on the spot. “If you were, I dunno, normal sized... people would have to get to know the real you, instead of making up assumptions about your size. Your mama wouldn't treat you like a doll, your daddy might call you his son, and who knows, maybe the Princess would actually see you, instead of someone the size of a page.” With the bait set, now it was only a matter of waiting.

Mickey's fists clenched up. Part of him knew exactly what Pete was saying, and what Pete was planning. It was cruel and manipulative – and it was working. He never asked to be this size, and yet all his life the only people he knew had forced their own ideas onto him. Now the girl he loved was doing the same. What was so wrong with being Mickey? Why couldn't they even attempt to see him? He swallowed hard, his throat feeling tight. “I... she... I promised Minnie... the Lucky Hammer not supposed to be used until we're married. And she promised her father... not to tell anyone where it was except for her husband.”

“But can you really be called her husband if she doesn't like you, but a made-up version of you?” Pete's smile hadn't left his face once. He enjoyed having painful power over people, and he missed being able to do this on the daily to his minions. Soon, that would all change, and he'd have an entire land of minions to boss around. In this moment, he felt extremely powerful. “In that case, I'd say she already broke her promise to her old man. Only fair for you to break it too. Whaddya say? Why don't you change your future, instead of waiting around for it?”

On this end, Mickey felt powerless. Save for breaking this bond of trust, there was nothing he could do to change his parent's mind or prove himself to Minnie. Would it really be so bad to be normal? He was only going to use it once. The headache was now so strong, he could feel them as if they were ready to stab through his skin, which made have made his anger and resentment worse. He exhaled deeply, and then commanded his dog, “Pluto, c'mere.”

Pluto whined, not liking where this was going, but he obediently pushed his head in so Mickey could climb on. “We're going to the Princess' room.”

“It's in her room?” Pete repeated, the smug smile finally taken off his face. Naturally, the one place a man wouldn't be allowed to enter! “Why that rotten little...” he grumbled a series of expletives that thankfully Mickey was too far away to hear. He then followed after Pluto quickly, shoving down his anger into his gut. There was no time to be angry – he had to make sure the Princess wasn't actually in her room. Gods forbid if she and Mickey actually had a healthy conversation to settle things, that would ruin the whole plan!

Coincidence after coincidence aided Pete – Minnie hadn't wanted her servants to do all the work (nor get rid of her favorite volumes) so she wound up trying to lug boxes with the rest of them. Pete, Pluto and Mickey poked their heads around the corner to see Minnie, Panchito and Jose – the birds doing their absolute best not to look at each other – lugging more boxes out into the hallway. No doubt they would all return for more, so they only had one chance to pull this off. They waited until they could no longer see Minnie, before tip-toeing to the room and carefully sliding the door open, not wanting to make a peep.

The sight of all those books that were still around made Mickey's stomach queasy – without realizing she'd gotten rid of most of them. Combined with the guilt of the promise being broken, and being in a girl's room without permission, it was taking every ounce of strength for Mickey not to upchuck.

“Where is it, where is it, where is it?” Pete hissed in a whisper – the closer he was getting to his goal, the more impatient he became.

Mickey slid off of Pluto's head, bouncing once on the floor before walking upright. “She said it's right... here.” He headed for the most obvious place in the room where any young girl would hide something important, a place so obvious that most people would have dismissed the idea since it was too obvious.

Which was why Mickey was scooting right under Minnie's bed.

Pete stared at the Princess' bed, covered in lace and satin and books, and slapped both of his hands to his face. It kept him from screaming swears to high heaven, and he thought that if this was the Emperor's idea, he wished the old man would come back to life so Pete could personally kill him. He pulled his face down hard, teeth gnashing, trying to control himself again. He was so close, he couldn't blow it now just because the Emperor was perhaps the dumbest person who had ever lived – or who had been such an overbearing parent that he thought keeping a powerful object underneath his daughter's bed would keep her from marrying ill suitors. Either way, he never thought he'd hate a corpse so much.

Still, there was only so much of his temper he could control, and instead of waiting for Mickey to pull out the Lucky Hammer, he reached over and grabbed the edge of the bed with one hand, leaning it over to one side with a crrrreaaaak. Mickey jumped a bit at this display of strength, but in a funny way found it comforting – Pete was already so big and strong, so he'd have no use for the Lucky Hammer himself, right? Surely he'd just come along for moral support in case Mickey chickened out.

As for the hammer itself?

It was certainly large, the head being wider and bigger than the handle, all of it golden and sparkling. Decorative wooden flames had been placed on both sides, along with a snake-like pattern curling around the hammer. At first Mickey thought the candles in the room were giving the Lucky Hammer wonderful glow, but upon closer inspection, the glow was coming from the hammer itself. It pulsated almost like a human heart, but in a soft and warm way, as if trying to assure all around that everything was okay. Just being near the divine weapon made Mickey feel a little light-headed, but he shook the feeling away with one hard nod of his head. Even though the Hammer obviously hadn't been touched in ages, there wasn't any trace of dust, rust or any sign that time had passed. It was as immortal as the gods, and Mickey momentarily felt very unworthy of it. Slowly, delicately, he walked toward the hammer, and lightly touched the handle.

He felt a pleasant spark ride through his hand, like a first kiss or the thrill of a fought victory. His heart began to beat harder than before, but through all this excitement, one important question remained. “How do I use it?” He asked Pete, his fingers twitching nervously. Mickey couldn't even make his fingers reach all around the handle, it was bigger than he was, like many things in life. The stories he heard merely said the Lucky Hammer made things bigger or smaller – how had never come up. What an awful time to realize such a thing! “Hm... well, hammers are usually for hitting things... am I supposed to hit myself with it?” Aside from being physically impossible, that would hurt like the dickens.

“All you have to do is shake it three times to change your size,” said Pete rather matter-of-factly.

“Oh, that's a relief.” Similarly, it took Mickey three seconds to realize another issue. “Wait, why do you know that?”

“You think I'd try stealing it for so long without making sure I knew how to use it?” Again, he enjoyed the dawning look of horrified realization on Mickey's face, and enjoyed it further when he reached down to yank the Lucky Hammer in his hands. “Man, oh man, I was sick of leaving those smoke messages to all those idiots across Japan. I heard some of them even thought about laying down their arms and giving up to live peacefully! They'll be the first ones I get rid of under my new rule!”

Pluto began to growl, standing in front of his gobsmacked master. Mickey began to shake, hoping any second now he'd wake up from this nightmare. “P-Pete... that was you, every night? Setting those fires, climbing up the palace? You were sending messages? To who?” Yet even as he asked, he had a terrible feeling he already knew, and that his selfishness had sealed the fate of Japan.

“Where are my manners?” Pete answered with a loud laugh, now no longer caring who heard him. He tossed the bed into a corner, and it crashed so hard it split in two, sending mountains of books to the floor. Mickey yelped, and Pluto grabbed him with his teeth, hoisting him onto his back before his master could be flattened. “I never introduced my real self, did I? But since you did me the great favor of getting me the Lucky Hammer, I think I owe you at least that!” He reached up to his head, and began to yank off his helmet. “I can finally take this cruddy thing off... you have any idea what it feels like to wear a helmet for years, as you sleep and bathe?” But he had a good reason why he never took it off – once it popped off, it revealed two garish horns sticking out of his forehead.

“Y-Y-You're an Oni!” Mickey sputtered, trying to pull out his needle sword, the makeshift weapon almost falling out of his hands due to his nerves.

“I ain't no ordinary Oni!” Pete shook the hammer once. “You're looking at the greatest, strongest, mightiest Oni there ever was!” He shook it twice.

“My pal, Mickey... I am THE ONI KING!”

With one last shake, Pete took on the same golden glow as the hammer, yellow and green mist encircling his entire body. He began to laugh, a horrendously strong belly laugh that grew louder as he grew taller – taller – taller – not stopping as his head hit the ceiling, not as his shoulders began destroying rooftops, as his elbows broke windows. Pluto ran as fast as he could as the bedroom began to rip apart all around them, the screams of scared servants echoing all across the dying palace. Mickey was afraid to even glance behind him to see the destruction Pete was leaving by him merely standing there, his laughter now reaching all across the kingdom, villagers rushing out of their homes as they felt the very earth shake.

Outside, the trees from the gardens began to topple over, the fence bending before breaking off and shooting off dangerous splinters across the air. Everyone within the palace had managed to make it out, although many were suffering from wounds and marks from the collapsing rooms. Donald held onto his wife, Clarabelle fainted into Goofy's arms, and the remaining samurai surrounded the devastated Princess, who watched Pete continue to grow, her mouth open but no words leaving her. Within seconds, the sun was blocked out, Pete's shadow encasing the entire kingdom in darkness.

And there Mickey stood, among his friends and family, watching Pete - the Oni King - take in his glory, feeling smaller than ever before.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Queliot Fic: “Overthinking It”

Okay so I wrote this way before yesterday. Obviously. And there are a ton of moments in it that now seem super fucking depressing given the finale, but I was practically done with it and I didn’t just want to scrap it, so I’m posting it here. My very first Queliot fic. Woohoo what a *super duper fun time* to be dipping my toes into this fandom. I’m so devastated that I’ve been shaking for hours and last night after watching the episode I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. So that’s where I’m at.

But hey, good news? This fic has nothing to do with the finale! It has nothing to do with the Monster or a post-possession reunion! It’s something I started working on after seeing episode 3x05, in a made up world where Eliot can’t quite lie to himself about how he’s feeling, and Q is stubborn enough to force the issue. This takes place post 3x06, and so it does include reference to Q’s depression and Benedict’s suicide. I know in the show Q had to run off and find a way to get the key, but here I’m letting him hang out in Fillory for a hot second. Because he deserves it, damn it.

I hope you enjoy... or I hope it distracts you from the pain... or something. Here’s my overly indulgent first attempt at Queliot! I don’t think I quite have the character voices down just yet, and this is largely unedited, but I wanted to share it anyway. Hang in there, guys. We can get through this together.

Cross-Posted to AO3: 

"How did he die?" Eliot asked. He said the words solemnly, without a hint of affectation or pretense, sliding down to sit next to Q on the floor with his back against the wall. The news that Benedict was dead felt like a dull, unreal spot in the center of Eliot's chest. He hadn't really known the mapmaker all that well, if he were being honest, but Benedict had become part of the texture of Fillory for him. He was there, like... well, not like scenery, exactly, but like something static, immutable. He'd never once tried to get to know the man, and he felt an uncomfortable squirm of guilt at the thought.

Quentin stared at the ground between his feet for a long moment, until Eliot leaned over slightly and nudged their shoulders together. "Q?" he asked softly. "What happened?"

"He - uh - the... the key, it sort of - did something to him," Q said. "He... um. He killed himself, El."

"Oh, shit," Eliot said, feeling his throat constrict. The haunted look on Q's face suddenly made a lot more sense. "That's - fuck, that's awful. The key made him do it? How?"

Q shrugged, their shoulders rubbing together a bit as he did so. Eliot may have been imagining it, but he thought Q was using the movement to move just the slightest bit away from him. He tried not to be hurt by the thought, focusing instead on Q's careful, quiet words. "It was, like, a depression key, I guess? When you held it, you'd see this cruel version of yourself, saying all the worst, most hateful things you secretly think about yourself... Poppy said it got to fifty percent of people right away, and they just... killed themselves to escape from the thoughts. Poppy was strong enough to hold on, but I guess Benedict..." he trailed off, his voice fading to a barely audible whisper. He still wouldn't meet Eliot's eyes.

Eliot could feel his heart pounding abnormally fast in his chest, and there was a strange ringing in his ears, but it actually took his mind a moment to catch up with his body's automatic responses of pure terror. "Q," he said, his voice coming out sharper than he'd intended, once the ramifications of Quentin's words had finally sunk in. "Did you touch that fucking thing? Did you?"

Quentin looked up at him, and Eliot didn't need to hear his answer. "Fuck," he said, and without pausing to think about it, he grabbed Quentin and pulled him against his chest, turning them so he could hold Q's face against his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on the back of Q's neck with his hand. "Fuck, are you okay?" he said, alarmed to hear the waver in his own voice as he gripped Q tighter.

"I'm fine," Quentin said, but he had his arms wrapped around Eliot and he was hold him so tight that Eliot could feel their heartbeats pounding together. "I'm okay, I'm... I think I'm okay."

"Don't," Eliot said, and then stopped, trying to calm himself down enough to say what he needed to say. The truth was, the thought of Q hurting himself had him gripped in a terror so profound he felt like he couldn't breathe. "Just, don't, okay?" he said finally, not sure exactly what he meant, not sure if it was the wrong thing to say. He simply didn't think he could manage anything more eloquent under the circumstances.

He felt Quentin let out a shuddering breath and then start to pull back, and it took a truly herculean effort to allow him to move away. But Eliot did, letting Quentin pull back far enough for them to make eye contact. "Eliot," Q said, his voice sad, and quiet, but also calm and strong. "I'm okay. Obviously things aren't... I mean, there's a lot of not so great things in our lives right now, but I'm not in that place. I'm handling my shit."

Eliot gave a brief little nod, and felt his lips twitch as he tried to force himself to smile. He met Q's stare dead-on, and squeezed the hand that was still behind Q's neck. "You come to me, or to Julia, or whoever the hell you want, but you don't go through any of this shit alone. Promise me."

There were other words that Eliot wanted to say, but didn't - I'd die if anything happened to you and please don't leave me and I'm not strong enough to face any of this without you.

"Yeah, okay. I promise," Q said, smiling slightly. "Thank you, El."

"Always," Eliot said, and because he couldn't quite help himself, he leaned forward to place a kiss on Quentin's mouth. He told himself it was fine, that he and Margo kissed like this, just a firm, solid press of dry lips, a declaration of friendship, of devotion, of love, but not like that or anything. Hey, if Eliot was going to spend the rest of his life pretending not to be in love with Quentin Coldwater, he might as well go for broke.

But Quentin didn't exactly stick to the game-plan. For a second, Q allowed the kiss, passive and still under Eliot's touch, but after a moment he shifted, bringing one hand up to slide into Eliot's hair, the other coming to rest over his heart. His lips parted, ever so slightly, and Eliot was simply not a good enough person to resist that, and before he'd given himself permission to do it, he was parting his own lips and pulling Q closer, one arm snaking almost by instinct around Q's waste, as Q deepened the kiss even further, making a soft, contented little sound into Eliot's mouth as he did so.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Eliot had always assumed that familiarity would make physical touch boring somehow, but he saw now that fifty years of being with this man hadn't been nearly long enough to get tired of him. Eternity wouldn't be enough time. He recognized the little sounds Q was making, recognized the way Q's hands were moving against the nape of his neck, sliding down to his lower back, and he also knew how to reciprocate, didn't need to plan it - supporting Q's head when he pressed his tongue into his mouth, stroking his thumb along the skin of Q's neck, all of it drawing them closer, all of it feeling so fucking good, a better high than Eliot had ever gotten from an illicit substance. The familiarity was part of the thrill, the knowledge that even though their bodies had technically never done this, (barring one hazy night with Margo), their minds and souls still contained a lifetime of connection. Eliot let his mind go blank, stubbornly refusing to think about what an awful idea this probably was. He felt Q shift the kiss to something sharper, felt just the barest hint of teeth against his lower lip, and let out an involuntary low moan, moving his body forward so they were pressed flush together from head to hips, so he could feel -

And then Q pulled away, taking his hands away from Eliot entirely and shuffling backwards on his knees until they were no longer touching. "No, I - " he said, pulling a hand through his hair in frustrated confusion. "No, sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry - " he stood, and was already stumbling backwards a few steps down the hall before Eliot could get to his feet.

"Wait," he said, feeling oddly desperate, like if Q walked away right now he'd never see him again. "Q, wait." And Quentin stopped.

Of course, there was the fact that Eliot had no idea what to actually say. He thought briefly about rushing forward, pushing Q up against the nearest wall and - but no, he couldn't do that. He had to be a fucking responsible adult and not maul his partner - his friend - the person who he had but also hadn't spent fifty years loving. He had to use his words. "Fuck. I didn't... I don't know - " Eliot babbled, and as he walked the last few paces to Q, he reached his hands out automatically, looking to anchor himself the best way he knew how.

Quentin, to his credit, didn't jerk away when Eliot's hands reached out for his shoulders, but Eliot could tell he wanted to. "I'm sorry, Q," Eliot said finally, finding the words to be utterly inadequate.

"It's okay," Q shrugged under Eliot's hands. He had this horrible little smile on his face, one that screamed hopelessness and low self-worth. "I'm sorry too. I mean, you told me you didn't... and I wasn't trying to, um... I guess I just miss you."

And if that didn't make Eliot feel like the biggest asshole in the universe... "I miss you too," he said, mostly to get that miserable, sheepish expression off of Q's face. Not that he didn't mean it, because Gods he meant it. "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do, Quentin," he said, seriously.

Something sparked in Q's eyes at Eliot's use of his full name, and he tightened his jaw, his throat bobbing before he spoke again. "What do you want to do?" he asked simply.

"Honestly? I want to keep kissing you."

"And after that?" Q said, his tone resolute, although Eliot was sure he'd felt him go tense under the pressure of Eliot's hands on his shoulders.

Eliot waggled his eyebrows a little bit, unable to resist the urge to break the tension, and Q let out an involuntary huff of exasperated amusement, before reaching a hand out to slap Eliot lightly on the arm. "Be serious." But there was a bit of hope in his eyes now, and Eliot didn't know how the hell he was supposed to live with himself if he snuffed that out again.

"I seriously love you, Q. And I'm seriously afraid I'm going to ruin everything." Eliot said. The words were as much a surprise to him as they evidently were to Quentin, whose jaw literally dropped for a moment before he realized and snapped it shut.

"You're un-fucking-believable," Q said finally. His tone was easy enough for Eliot to read, although he was sure he was one of the only people in the world who would be able to - Q sounded a little angry, maybe, but mostly just blank, a frightening sort of nothing that Eliot was all too familiar with from a lifetime spent with this man. It usually meant Q was about to yell at him.

"Q, I'm a mess, okay?" he said quickly, to cut Quentin off. It was important for him to hear this, for him to understand. "And when we were there, in the past, it was different, but here, everything's so complicated, and if I fuck things up and I lose you, I'd never get over it, okay? Can't we just - I don't know, can't we just be - us and not deal with - like - the specifics?"

It sounded pathetic to his own ears, and based on the grim look on Q's face, he was similarly unimpressed. "So what, you're saying you don't want to put a label on it? El, for fuck's sake, we were married, we had a kid - "

"You and Ari were married, Q - "

"Don't give me that crap. You don't want to be with me now, that's fine, but don't fucking pretend like what we had wasn't real. You don't get to take that from me."

Q still looked angry, but there was also a tinge of desperation, of fear, hiding behind his eyes, and Eliot, as if such a thing were possible, felt even worse. "Let's go somewhere we can talk," Eliot said finally, struggling to keep his voice calm. He had no idea what he was doing, but there was one thing he was sure of - he had to fix this. He couldn't stand to see Q hurt, and it was infinitely worse to know he was the cause of it.

He grabbed Quentin's wrist, resisting the overwhelming instinct to take his hand and tangle their fingers together, like they used to do when they'd go on walks to get away from the mosaic for a couple of hours. Q didn't fight him, but he kept his posture stiff as Eliot steered him through the castle and finally into his own bedchambers. Fen was nowhere to be seen, luckily. She was probably attending to running the kingdom along with Margo. Which was maybe what Eliot was supposed to be doing, but... fuck it. This had to be more important right now.

"It was real," Eliot said firmly, as soon as the door was closed and he was facing Q again. "It was fucking real, and I'm not trying to brush it aside, or..."

"But yes you are," Q interrupted, his voice just a touch too loud, a touch too high. "What you said, about... about that not being us when we have a choice... we had a choice, El. Sure, we were stuck in the past, and we were both committed to the quest, but none of that meant we had to fuck each other or raise a family together or be a goddamn couple - we chose that, didn't we?"

Eliot, horrifyingly, felt like he might be about to cry. He stared at Q, his beautiful, brave Q, and he really, really wanted to just say fuck it and go to him and, well, propose on the spot or do something equally insane to prove his devotion and love. But he couldn't do that. He wasn't strong enough for it and at some point Q was going to realize it, or Eliot was going to do something unbelievably cruel and then he'd lose Q entirely.

"We did," he finally said, pushing through a crack in his voice. "We did choose it, and I'm glad we did, it's just..."

"Eliot," Quentin said, stepping closer to him and bringing his hands up to place them on either side of his face. He tilted Eliot's head down so their noses were almost touching. "Do you trust me?"

"Obviously," Eliot said, although the word didn't come out quite as flippant as he'd planned.

"Nothing can fuck us up, El," Q said with conviction.

At this, Eliot pulled away slightly, keeping himself bent slightly towards Q, but creating a distance between them, to ease the temptation to press into him, kiss the words out of his mouth, show him exactly how he felt in the only way he'd ever been any good at. He felt like he might be trembling, which was all sorts of pathetic.

"You say that, but I think you're underestimating what a dick I can be - "

"I'm not," Q said, a hint of humor coloring his otherwise serious tone. "Believe me, I've factored that in. Sit down." He pulled Eliot forwards into the room and maneuvered them so they were sitting on the edge of the bed, facing each other. Q took Eliot's hands in his and looked at him for a long moment, and Eliot, remembering the way he'd looked away from Q in the throne room just days ago, forced himself to hold eye contact. He owed Quentin at least that much.

"Do you remember when we had that threesome with Margo?" Quentin asked casually, and it startled a laugh out of Eliot.

"Uh, yeah, Q, it's a little hard to forget."

"Well, that was a fucked up mistake and it shouldn't have happened," Q said. "Not because of you, although you were obviously in a really bad place at the time... I mean, it shouldn't have happened because... well, I was cheating on Alice, and because we were all under the influence of an emotional overdose and way too much booze... it totally fucked over my relationship with Alice and I still don't think we've recovered from it, if I'm being honest."

Eliot didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say, and he honestly had no idea where Q was going with this. After a moment, Quentin took a deep breath and continued. "But you and me? We were fine. We were good friends before that, and we were good friends after that, and we forgave each other without even needing to discuss it. And then, El, two days ago I told you I wanted to be with you, and you rejected me, and we're fine. I mean, yeah, you hurt me, but you didn't lose me because of it. I'm still here, and even if you said right now that you don't want me, it would still be okay. Because we're stronger than that - we're strong enough to live more than fifty years together and still love each other at the end of all of that."

There was another pregnant pause, and Eliot could feel his heart pounding fast again, this time the terror mixed with a dangerous dose of hope and love and all sorts of mushy things he was hardly able to admit even in his own mind. Q continued, a little quieter, after letting the silence stretch and grown between them. "So if we give this thing a shot and it all goes to hell a week from now, it'll suck. But it won't break us, because nothing can.  We can go back to being friends, closer than most. You tell me right now you don't want this, and I'll leave it alone, Eliot. But if you do - "

And then Eliot was kissing him, a little messy, a touch too desperate, lacking the finesse of their earlier kiss, pulling Q forward, practically into his lap. "Yes," he said against Q's lips. "Yes, I do. I really, really, do."

Eliot could feel Q smile, the clack of their teeth together as he moved his mouth away from Eliot's and slid his face down to the crook of his neck and let out a somewhat shaky laugh. "Okay. Good. So you're done being an idiot."

Eliot laughed back. "Not by a mile, sweetheart. But that's okay, that's why I have you." He felt like he might be having an out of body experience, and he was pretty sure the rest of the world wasn't going to let them stay happy for long, but for now, he was allowed to push his hand into Q's hair and he was allowed to nudge Q's face off of his shoulder and connect their lips again. He was allowed to let himself feel this, and that was more than enough at the moment. He wasn't sure he was convinced by Q's reasoning - he'd fucked up so many good things in his life before - but he trusted his - what, boyfriend? That felt weird. Maybe when managed to tear his lips away from Quentin's neck, he'd ask him what they should call each other... it wasn't his top priority at the moment.

Later, actually much later, Eliot noticed with some level of smug satisfaction, seeing the black sky through the window, he was curled up with Q beside him in his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling comfortably blank and exhausted, in a good way. He turned his head slightly so he could place a kiss against Q's forehead where it rested on his shoulder. "I feel a bit guilty," Eliot said, sighing in pleasure as Q squirmed against him, trying to get impossibly closer.

"Why?"

"This conversation started because Benedict's dead, and now I'm laying here, happier than I think I've ever been honestly, and..."

"Death makes people horny," Q said sleepily, nuzzling his nose in to Eliot's shoulder. Eliot laughed - more like giggled, and couldn't be bothered to care about his dignity.

"Hm, so that's what this is? You were horny so you came to your reliable pal - "

Q smacked him in the chest hard and sat up to look down at Eliot, but he was smiling. "Yeah. Also I really love you a lot, and you were being an asshole, and walking around with a depression monster telling you what a worthless piece of shit you are kinda gets in a person's head."

The grin slid off of Eliot's face as he looked up at Quentin. "You're worth everything to me, Q."

Q looked at him for a long moment, and Eliot had the overwhelming urge to crack a joke, change the subject, do something to ease the bubble of tension in his chest, but he'd decided to actually try for once, and that meant saying some of this shit out loud, didn't it?

"Okay," Q said finally. "Thank you." And then he smiled an easy smile, leaned over to press his lips briefly against Eliot's (both of their lips were swollen from how much they'd been kissing each other over the past few hours) and then flopped back down on Eliot's chest. "Let's get some sleep."

Q was asleep within minutes, and Eliot, to his surprise, felt himself drifting off almost immediately after him. Maybe they were actually done overthinking it, this time. Maybe it would work. Maybe they'd bring magic back and they'd defeat the faeries and they'd rule Fillory alongside Margo and Fen, and... and maybe none of that would happen, but he'd still get to keep this incredible person at his side when everything fell the fuck apart. Honestly, he was pretty happy with his options either way.

I didn’t really have a good way to end this, so I just cut it off here. Obviously the show would diverge from canon at this point, pretty wildly... in any case, at one point I might have considered writing more, seeing how the two of them becoming a canon couple in season 3 would affect the overarching plot moving forward. Maybe someday I’ll do just that, but right now everything is too raw. I hope this fic was a comfort or a distraction for some of you who might be feeling as low as I am right now...

[banditthewriter]

Choose Your Fate - Matt Murdock - 7

I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to get this up. Here’s hoping that I’ll be back on a normal schedule until the next holiday haha.

You guys wanted the reader to recognize him (and although I had been vague, I did mean Matt) so that’s what’s happened. Honestly I don’t see how more people don’t recognize him haha

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

***** "I was nearby. You should call the cops." Daredevil was facing away from you, his body angled towards the shattered window, but he wasn't moving to leave. In fact the moment he had finished speaking, his entire body had gone rigid. It was like he knew the exact moment you realized that you recognized his voice. "Matt." It wasn't a question although you had a hundred of them swirling around in your already crowded mind. And even though it wasn't a question, you got your answer as you saw his shoulders sag. Slowly he turned to face you and since you obviously knew, he slowly pulled his helmet off. His unfocused eyes move around a bit and you wondered if it was an act. How could it be? How could he fool everyone? And how did you miss that bruise on the side of his face? You glanced over to see the look of guilt and worry on Karen's face and you realized that he hadn't fooled everyone. Or at least he didn't need to fool everyone. Of course people would believe he's blind if people help perpetrate the lie. Karen. Foggy. Who knows how many people knew the truth? Admittedly he was a wanted criminal so probably not many. Without saying another word, you walked past Karen and into the room where you had left your purse. Your hands were shaking as you picked it up, slinging it over your shoulder. Every step made your legs hurt from the glass, but you pushed the pain to the back of your mind. "Y/N," he said, stepping forward but immediately stopping when you turned towards him. "I don't even know what to say," you said quietly before you turned to walk towards the doors. "You're both liars. All of you are. How can you consider yourself people that uphold the law if you're breaking it?" At the wrecked door, you were about to slip through when Karen grabbed your wrist. "You can't go anywhere," she said cautiously, looking back at Matt before looking at you once more. "The parameters of your bail say you have to be with one of us at all times." "I'll take my chances." You slipped from her grasp but then turned to face Matt once more. His mouth opened and closed as if he had something to say and you wondered if it would change the anger and confusion that was building in your chest. What could he possibly say that would make you able to look at him the same? "You're fired," you said softly before you stepped into the hallway. At the front door of the building, you ran into Foggy. He was grinning, a bag of something that smelled sweet in his hands. He started to say your name but immediately saw the disarray of your appearance and reached out to touch your arm. "Y/N? What happened?" He knew too but storming out had used most of your anger. Now you were just left with confusion and a low thrum ounce of betrayal that you didn't know what to do with. Instead of addressing any of that, you shook your head and pushed past him. "Y/N?" He called your name again but you kept going. You weren't ready to listen yet. ------ The door of your apartment was hanging off the hinges. Your first instinct was to go in and see if anything was taken, but the thought that they might still be here made you freeze. With nothing but your purse, you left your building in a hurry. It was the middle of the night. You weren't sure where you were going, but you knew you couldn't stay there. It was like you'd forgotten that you were in trouble. Hell, someone tried to kill you. That thought brought back the fear you'd had with the gun pointing at you. If Daredevil—Matt, it was Matt—hadn't come, you'd be dead. Karen too probably. It didn't erase what he'd done or the lies. Although you had never outright asked him if he was Daredevil, the lie of omission was definitely a thing. Between that and the fact that he wasn't really blind? It was all piling up to make you angry again. At least that explained why he seemed so hot and cold with you. Maybe he was attracted to you but he didn't want you to get too close and find out his secret. And how did more people not know his secret? Sure he played the blind part well, but it had taken eight words for you to recognize him. How did more people not catch on? Plus there were other parts of him that stood out. Like his mouth, you thought hastily even though no one else could read your mind. Hopefully. You spent a lot of time staring at his mouth. It was his defining feature since you couldn't see his eyes through those glasses he wore all the time. To help sell the bit you figured. But it was a nice mouth, the way that it ticked up when he was trying not to smile and the way that it seemed to pull into a frown automatically. You remembered his laugh that night you made him dinner, the way it lit up the rest of the room. If you weren't aware of the fact that you were gone on him, that little stroll down memory lane would have done it for you. You found yourself standing in front of the Garden Well facility. It wasn't open all hours, but as Fran's next of kin, you were able to get through after showing your ID. She was asleep so you quietly slipped into the room, shutting the door behind you. What you wouldn't give for a lock, you thought as you moved to sit on the couch in the corner of the room. There was a thin blanket over the back and you pulled it over your body as you slumped down, resting your head on a decorative pillow that smelled just like Fran. Unable to help yourself, you glanced at your phone and saw the messages from the three of them. Each message was vague as possible, asking if you were okay and if you could please come back so it could be explained. Then there was a last one from Matt that made you pause. I need to explain this to you. Please let me. It was the plaintive note that gave you pause, but you just closed out of the messages and turned your phone off. Maybe some rest would help you know what to do. ------ "Y/N? Sweetheart," a kind voice called and you blinked your eyes open slowly. Fran was hovering over you, a robe pulled around her body as she looked you over. As you sat up, she made a noise in the back of her throat and quickly sat down beside you. "You bled on my couch," she said as she lifted the blanket to check your legs. You hadn't done more than dust the glass off but you could still glass embedded into your legs. Her fingers were gentle but it still stung. She went to the door and poked her head out to flag down a nurse. The room became a bit crowded as a nurse and an aid came in to check your legs and bandage them. The nurse told you to go to the hospital, giving you a look that clearly said that she thought you were insane when you refused, but they were in and out in a flash. Left alone with Fran once more, she moved to sit beside you again. "You want to tell me what happened or do you want to make me guess?" Where to start? With her holding your hand, you started from when you arrived at the office to the point of you leaving. You kept it vague when you said that Daredevil had appeared, but she squeezed your hand anyways. "You could have died. This isn't right Y/N. And you just left? You were supposed to stay with one of them—" She was rehashing the same things that Karen had said, plus what all of them had said in their texts the night before. It was hard to get Fran to understand your side of things when you couldn't reveal who Daredevil was and why it bothered you. Though you remembered the stack of papers that had articles about Daredevil in them that Fran had kept. You'd forgotten she was a groupie. "I had to get out of there Aunt Fran," you said miserably as you picked at the gauze wrapped around your leg. "I couldn't stand there with him anymore." The older woman that you had known most of your life stared at you with curiosity in her eyes. She was a quick woman, had gathered intel on her neighbors for years, so you wondered what she was picking up from you. "Are you one of the people that think Daredevil should be in jail?" "No," you said quickly, uncomfortable with the idea. Even before you knew that Daredevil was the guy you had kind of started to fall for, you never wanted Daredevil in jail. He did great things and sure, maybe you didn't agree with the violence, but he was protecting the city. It was the fact that he lied about being blind. Not just to you, but to everyone. This man had created a persona to protect his night job and in the meantime had lied to every person he met. Maybe he never asked for pity or sympathy, but he couldn't expect that people would be okay with this if they knew the truth. "Oh honey," Fran said as she squeezed your hand to draw your attention back to you. "Did you leave because it was Daredevil or did you leave because it was Matt?" She was stronger than she looked because she refused to drop your hand no matter how hard you pulled. "You knew? And still tried to set me up with him?" How could she? "I didn't know for sure, but I'd suspected for a long time. He's not as subtle as he thinks he is and I'm a blood hound when I sense a mystery. I only figured it out when I saw how upset you were about it all." "That doesn't make sense," you said as you settled in next to her again. "Why would me being upset tip you off?" "Because, dear, it's obvious that you're ass over tea kettle for that man and that's the only reason that you'd get so damn hurt over it." She reached up and brushed at the tears you hadn't realized were falling. "Come now Y/N, don't you know that love is blind?" The laugh that bubbled up came without your permission, but you found yourself bent over as you giggled. Fran was rubbing your back as your giggles started to subside. "How are you so okay with this Aunt Fran? He's a liar." "He's a lawyer," she said back with a shrug. At your dark look, she sighed and stood up, moving over to the table where she picked up the card for Nelson and Murdock. "That man has done so much for us all, not just as Daredevil. He saved me when I fell. He's taking on the businessmen and women that would step on us little people. He's doing good. Least we could do is let him have his secrets." She put the card down but before she could say anymore or you could respond, the door opened to reveal a nurse with a smile. "We're getting ready to serve breakfast in the mess. Y/N, are you joining us?" With a smile you tucked your purse into a corner of the room and walked over to Fran. "Wouldn't miss it." ------ A nap after lunch had been Fran's idea and you had to admit that it was a good one. Up until the moment where the door flew open to reveal the people you'd been ignoring all day. Matt looked like a mess but not just in the way you'd expected him to look after taking on three guys at once. He looked like he hadn't slept in a while. Karen and Foggy both looked around frantically until they saw you. You noticed that Matt relaxed a fraction of a second before the other two. "Well this is a surprise," Fran said in a tone that clearly said she wasn't surprised. "We saw your apartment," Foggy began as he heaved out a breath, his hand on his side like they had run there. "We thought you'd been taken or something." You'd almost forgotten that your apartment had been ransacked; it was the reason you were with Fran after all. "I saw it after I left the office," you said while trying not to look at Matt, "and came straight here since I had nowhere else to go that late." "You shouldn't have left," Karen reminded you as she put her hand on Foggy's back. "The judge said you had to stay with one of us at all times." It had been rash to leave, but you'd been so upset. Talking to Fran had cooled the anger and betrayal but you still weren't sure how to act around Matt anymore. It wasn't just because he was Daredevil, but because he had lied. As if sensing that you were thinking about it, Matt stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Can we talk? Alone," he clarified with a jerk of his head towards the hallway. Before you could reply, Fran sighed and headed over to Karen and Foggy. "C'mon you two, let me show you the gardens while these two have some privacy." Once the three of them were gone and the door was shut, Matt relaxed his shoulders a bit. You gestured towards the couch and watched as he moved that direction. "So you're not blind," you said as you settled onto the couch next to him. "Not," he began, clearing his throat a bit as he pulled off his glasses, "not exactly. I was blinded as a kid but my other senses were heightened and give me a view of my surroundings." He explained how it worked and how he couldn't make out certain things, but how other things were more obvious to him. "I can pick out smells and tastes easily. I have advanced hearing. For instance I can hear Fran quizzing Foggy and Karen on my intentions right now," he said with a smile as he dropped his head. "She's very protective of you." "What else?" He shifted a bit, licking his lips. "What else can I hear?" "Or what else you can do. You're describing it as some sort of echolocation but I saw you fight. I doubt you learned that in the orphange." "Kind of did," he admitted with a shrug. "A man named Stick found me and taught me how to hone my abilities. He taught me how to tell the difference in a heart rate rising out of pain or fear or from a lie. He taught—" "Wait, you can hear someone's heart rate rising?" You could feel your own heart rate doing just that and you wanted to curse yourself. "So you... oh god." Karen's words came back to you and you were struck with the urge to laugh. She had told you that everyone fell for Matt and the irony was that he was aware of it. You could say in his defense that he didn't seem conceited because of it. He was humble which was surprising in regards to what you knew about him now. "I don't snoop," he said softly but you could see some discomfort cross his face. "Unless I think something is wrong or something catches my attention, I try to focus on other things. It's not fair to people that I have that advantage." "But you pick up on things. Lies or increased heart rates?" He gave a quick nod and you laughed, burying your face in your hands. "This is mortifying." His hand gently pressed against your forearm and you peeked out just enough to catch the small smile on his lips. "It... was flattering." Oh god, you thought as you groaned and buried your face again. Flattering? That was definitely not a good thing. "I said that wrong," he said as he let his hand fall to his lap. "I don't mean that I was flattered by the attention. I meant that the reciprocated interest was nice. I was happy to know that the person I was attracted to felt the same and from what I could tell, it wasn't just on the surface." That took a moment to sink in. He was admitting, although through a lot of words, to feeling the same as you. Slowly you lifted your head and looked at him. Matt, who usually kept himself pretty hard to read, was an open book at that moment. You could tell that he was trying to be open with you and you appreciated the effort. He looked vulnerable and unsure. "You lie to everyone in your life," you said quietly. It was the last obstacle you were holding on to, the last thing that was keeping you from just moving on as if nothing had changed. "That you're blind and helpless. Karen and Foggy help feed the lie and tell people that you're clumsy. You act the part," you said with a pointed gesture to the cane he was carrying. Matt collapsed the cane and slid it into his pocket. His glasses were in his other pocket and you realized that this was what he'd look like if it hadn't been for the accident he'd had as a kid. This man whose eyes were unfocused but it wasn't obvious unless you knew it was there. This man who was looking at you as if he could see you plain as day instead of just a shadow of you. "That man that taught me how to fight? He told me that having people that care about me was a weakness. I believed him for a long time but I realized that he's wrong." A moment of silence hung in the air before you swallowed. "What made you realize that?" He smiled and you noticed him tilt his head as if he was listening to something in the distance. "Foggy was the start," he said as he shifted his attention back to you. "I met him in college and he kind of attached himself to me. Then Karen a while back when we helped her in a legal situation. She's stuck around through thick and thin; she's vulnerable but she's strong and I admired that about her." He stood up and moved away from the couch. He walked over to the dresser and you watched as his fingers found the card. He ran his fingers over it before he brought it over to you, handing it to you after a moment. "They make being Matt Murdock worth it, but Daredevil? That's a part of me that I'd been missing since I was a kid. When I'm Daredevil, I'm complete. I can help people as Daredevil and I can help people as Matt Murdock, but I can't be one without the other." You looked at the card in your hand, really looked at it. It was simple, Nelson and Murdock followed by their location and phone number. The card stock wasn't the best and it felt flimsy in a way that you didn't want your business card to feel. "I'd already decided to keep your secret," you said finally as you stood up to put the card back. "My problem wasn't that you were Daredevil. My problem was that you were Daredevil." The inflection in your voice made Matt smile. He pulled his glasses out of his pocket but didn't put them back on. "Let us help you Y/N," he pleaded, stepping up to you and grabbing your hand with his free hand. "You're being set up and we think we know by who. If we're right, we could use your help. And," he added after a moment, a tinge of color rising in his cheeks, "and I want to make sure you're safe." Warmth spread through you and you cleared your throat before you let your hand fall back to your side. "Consider yourself rehired," you said with a nod. X A post will be up right after this for voting.

X

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[agoodroughandtumble]

Hold the Line - Bucky/Reader AU (9/?)

Status: On going Pairing: Sixth form (18yr old)/journalist Bucky x reader Summary: You and Bucky liked each other during sixth form. And then everything went wrong. Six years later you’re working at a newspaper and a new colleague makes your head dizzy and your morals questionable. (Modern AU) Warning(s): 18+ Language, some implied smut straight off the bat and later on, all the cliches A/N: I wrote this for a friend based on characters we created, and then modified it for Marvel. Rex not owned by me but by a friend of mine who has given me permission to write him. This was written with originally with British characters and while I’ve gone through it I apologise if I’ve missed parts which are super British.

Read part 1 [here]

[Masterlist]

-

2012.

Bucky had managed to keep his composure after the conversation with Ciaran, despite his brain functioning at ninety miles a minute. Surely there was some sort of mistake here. You didn’t like him. You were too busy keeping the sun shining to like anyone. And even if you did, why would it be him? You were warmth and brightness, summer and fire. He was dark and cold and undeserving. Clearly Ciaran was wrong. Maybe you had in fact said you liked him, but as a friend, or out of pity and definitely not in the way he liked you, the way he so desperately wanted, needed, you to like him.

He dropped his sports bag onto the bench and sat down next to it, practically downing his bottle of water as he did so. The rest of the team were already in the changing rooms but he needed space, needed to breathe and think. His thighs were restless, unable to keep still with all the nerves and energy coursing through him, despite the hour’s training. This was insane. It was utter nonsense and it was insane. Christ, the last time he’d spoken to you he’d basically thrown a pen at you and ran away. Of course you didn’t like him. You probably thought he was a complete nutter, and honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong.

Deciding he couldn’t be arsed with the banter from the rest of the team, he started making his way off the field. It was a hot day, and although his kit was sweat and grass stained and stank it was cooler than changing into his shirt and trousers. It was a short walk home, which luckily gave him less time to think about his situation. Part of him knew that Ciaran had misunderstood, but there was a small, hopeful part of him that couldn’t help but entertain the what if. What if there was something between the two of you? What if those bright smiles and wide eyes were only reserved for him? His mind was racing, heart thundering in his chest, threatening to burst free at any minute. It was more than a relief when he eventually arrived home, throwing his bag on the floor and was about to head upstairs when he heard a noise from the kitchen.

“James?”

He stopped in his tracks and let out a groan, reluctantly following the sound. “What?”

His step-father gave him a strange look. “You didn’t get changed.”

Bucky shrugged, “Too hot.”

Alexander clearly thought there was more to it than that, “Is that so?” He tilted his head, looking step-son up and down. “You look flustered.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky lied, heading towards the fridge. He pulled out a can of Coke, drank it in one and threw it into the rubbish bin. “What did you want, anyway?”

Alexander opened the window and pulled the small glass ash tray towards him before pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. “I have some business tonight. Thought you could make yourself useful.”

“I have homework.”

Alexander gave him an amused smile, “Which you never do anyway. I just need you to be sociable and affable – we both know you can do that.” He was right, of course, Bucky prided himself on his charm and ability to win people over. Still, he didn’t particularly want to spend all evening with his step-father’s stuffy and uptight business associates. When Bucky didn’t protest, Alexander continued. “I have a dinner with a representative with a potential client, and he’s bringing his sister – I thought you could lighten up her evening.”

Bucky gave him a questioning look. “Are you pimping me out?”

Alexander let out a small chuckle and flicked some ash out of the window. “No, I believe she’s in your year and her brother is very protective so I’m definitely not leaving you two alone. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) – you know her?”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, eyes far wider than he wanted them to be. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N) You want me to go to dinner with (Y/N)?”

“Is that a problem?” Alexander asked, although Bucky knew that he wasn’t actually being given a choice in the matter.

He continued to stare at his step-father, brain trying to register exactly what was going on before he let out a soft groan and turned around, heading out of the room. “I’m going for a shower.”

*

2018.

You had managed to write some actual words of her article, which, considering your mind kept wandering to your strange encounter with Bucky that was quite an impressive achievement. Torrin had also returned, although he refused to tell you where he’d been which just annoyed you and confirmed that he had definitely been doing something that you wouldn’t approve of. You peeked over the screen of your laptop, chuckling slightly at the sight of Torrin, leant forward, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he furiously typed. If only you had that level of focus.

You leant back in her chair, having already given up with attempting to get any work done when your mind was clearly occupied elsewhere. But you were bored. And you couldn’t just stare at Bucky for the rest of the day – that might have made a few people a bit suspicious. You let out a loud sigh. Torrin didn’t react. He didn’t react to the second one either. You stuck your tongue out at him. Nothing. You started typing nonsense onto your keyboard, increasing the volume with each letter. He didn’t even blink. Letting out a defeated groan, you threw your head back and stared up at the ceiling. Torrin was a pain in the arse when he was in the mood – impossible to distract. You dropped your head to look at him again and then started picking up loose paper clips to throw at him. The first two missed him completely, but the third managed to hit his cheekbone. Finally! You cheered in her head.

“Ow.”

You scoffed, “That didn’t hurt.”

He eventually tore his eyes away from his screen, raising an amused eyebrow. “Are you bored?”

You nodded, a small pout on her lips, “Entertain me?”

“I’m afraid my thrusting isn’t quite as impressive as Rex’s.” He glanced at the clock on his screen. “Tell you what, I’m going to have lunch in fifteen. Why don’t you go and get a table at the cafe? I’ll treat you.”

“Hmm.” You pretended to think about this at great length before practically bouncing out of your chair and grabbing your bag. “I’m timing you.”

He gave you a wide smile, offering out his little finger to you. “Fifteen minutes.”

You bounded out of the office enthusiastically. It was a sunny day, far too nice to be cooped up in the office with no inspiration to write. There was a short wait for the lift, but unfortunately it was time enough for someone else to start waiting. You looked up at him with a questioning look. “Stalking me now?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Don’t think so highly of yourself, doll.”

That was the second time he’d called you that. If he did it again, you were going to slap him. “That’s rich coming from you.”

He snorted, earning himself a glare. “Remember when you used to be nice to me?”

“Remember when you weren’t an arrogant wanker?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, but there was a smile on his lips. He was enjoying this far too much for your liking. The lift opened and they both shuffled inside. You had walked to one corner, and annoyingly Bucky had followed, shoulder nudging hers. “Confidence is sexy.”

You were about to say something, or just slap him when suddenly you felt a jolt. One hand braced against the lift of the wall while the other automatically flew to Bucky’s gripping it tightly. “The fuck was that?”

Bucky subconsciously squeezed your hand reassuringly, “I think the lift’s stuck.”

You gripped tighter, almost painfully. “What? What do you fucking mean? The lift can’t be fucking stuck. Why is it stuck? What the fuck do we do?”

He stared at you for a second before the penny dropped. “Oh. Oh shit.” He pulled his hand out of yours, placing both of them on your shoulders and turning you to face him. “(Y/N), (Y/N), calm down.” Your eyes were squeezed shut, entire body rigid with tension and fear, and your breathing coming out in short, quick bursts. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” When that didn’t seem to help he pulled you towards him gently. One arm dropped and found its way around your waist while the other moved around your shoulders, holding you against him. “You’re okay, everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

[shadowofdarkness22]

prompt: its Ji An's birthday, DH & the ajusshis take it upon themselves to organize a small birthday party at Jung Hee's bar?

My first prompt and its full of fluff!! Sorry for taking a while Anon, but I really hope you like this. It literally turned into a long monster while writing it and while I was trying to keep it short the story wouldn’t let me. My life. lol 

I have two other prompts in my inbox! I will get to them soon I promise, but consider I work a lot and I need to come up with fresh ideas. Anyone want to post a prompt please feel free to send me an anon! I will also be posting this on ao3 because I want others to be able to write fics as well! 

Enjoy! 

Today was her birthday.

The date on the computer screen stared back at her as Ji An stopped typing out the receipts sitting on her desk. She stared for a moment before continuing her typing as if not noticing that fact. Birthdays were usually very special to normal people, but that was for people who had families to go home to and seaweed soup to eat. Ji An had no one to go home to. She had her grandmother, and perhaps she might take off early to spend a few hours with her, but after that… what did she have? She glanced at Park Dong Hoon’s desk and watched as he worked diligently, typing away on the computer or staring at designs of buildings.

Ji An looked away when he looked towards her and continued typing like nothing happened. She only glanced up when he stood and went to get something from the break room. She heard the fridge open and glanced down at the papers on her desk wondering which receipt she left off on before she heard Dong Hoon clear his throat at her. She turned to look at him and he held out a drink towards her. She accepted it automatically, a bit surprised but thankful. “Wait for me after work, i’ll treat you to a meal.” he said. It was almost too quiet for her to hear, but she heard it. He walked back to his desk and she followed him with her eyes.

She glanced at the drink and felt the warmth of the coffee ease the pain of her hands from scrubbing dishes and floors all last night. She looked at the clock and thought perhaps this year her birthday would be just a little bit different.

–

They walked together along the familiar path side by side. Ji An kept glancing at Dong Hoon, wondering just where exactly he was going to take her to eat. She didn’t think he knew that her birthday was today, but Ji An selfishly wanted him to know anyway. She thought at least her Ajusshi of all people would make her feel special on the day she was born. Yet, as they headed down the path towards her home her excitement began to change to one of confusion. Especially since they stopped in front of Jung Hee’s bar. She passed by this bar many times and never actually walked inside, but listening through Dong Hoon’s phone, she caught a glimpse of what it was like. How lively his friends were. How kind they were despite all their problems. Ji An still wished she could be their age as soon as possible, if just for a moment so she could finally be a part of it.

“Here?” she asked, looking at Dong Hoon as he nodded.

“Jung Hee has good food and everyone wanted you to come by.” he said and let her walk first. Her confusion didn’t ease, but she walked to the door anyway. This time, she would know what it looked like on the inside. However the moment Ji An opened the door she wasn’t greeted by a bar filled with middle aged men drinking and talking about their lives. Instead she was greeted with a pop of confetti and a shout of excitement. Everyone in the bar stood up at the same time and cheered causing her to step back in surprise and back into Dong Hoon who caught her. He chuckled and eased her forward through her surprise and as soon as he let her go Jung Hee came over and dragged her to sit down.

Everything happened at once, people were singing and clapping. They handed her a drink and told her to join them, laughing when she downed the glass in a shot. “Oh! She drinks well!” one says and Ji An tries not to feel embarrassed. Eventually Jung Hee brought out a small cake with a few candles and put it in front of her. Everyone sang to her and told her to make a wish. The loud room became silent and Ji An stared at the cake for a moment, wondering what to wish. Her eyes found Dong Hoon and found he was looking at her, waiting just like everyone else in the room for her to make her wish. She thought for a moment before blowing out the candles.

“What did you wish for?” Dong Hoon asks her a little later as everyone gets a piece of cake (Jung Hee cutting her the biggest piece of course). Ji An merely shrugs.

“It’s a secret.” she says and he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Fair enough.”

The party continued on for a few more hours, Ji An receiving far more presents than she ever expected. Some were new clothes (that was from Jung Hee), a new make up set (from Yoo Ra), and a bit of money of course. But there wasn’t a present from Dong Hoon anywhere in sight. “Hey, Dong Hoon did you forget her present?” Jung Hee asks, looking like she was about to drag Dong Hoon out of the bar. Her Ajusshi stood quickly and shook his head.

“No, No. I didn’t forget.”

“Jung Hee relax! He’s the one that set this whole thing up remember? Called us all last minute yesterday. That’s probably the best present right there!” said the guy who Ji An remembers as the one who apologized to her last time for saying weird things while he was drunk. Ji An looks over at her ajusshi as he sits back down at the table while everyone continues talking. She looked down at her drink and realizes then and there why Park Dong Hoon always comes down to this bar. It wasn’t exactly the bar itself, but the people. There was a close bond with everyone that resembled something like a strange family. They were each holding each other together and despite not knowing her as other than Dong Hoon’s colleague, they had accepted her into their little family.

It was a feeling she never thought she would feel again.

“What’s wrong?” Dong Hoon asks as he’s suddenly right there in front of her. She was confused as to why he would ask, but then she realizes everyone else is staring at her and there’s a wetness on her cheeks. She wipes her eyes hastily. “Nothing.” she says. “I’m not sad.” she quickly counters, trying to reassure everyone. “I’m just… not used to this.” was all she could say. Everyone seemed to understand quickly enough and let her be, but Dong Hoon didn’t leave her side for the rest of the party.

–

The excitement finally died down and everyone finally started to leave. Ji An managed to get all of her presents into one bag to carry home and couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and fall asleep. She hadn’t done this much in a while and she was exhausted, but she had a lot of fun. “Ahh, I haven’t partied like this since I was young!” one of the men said causing the others to laugh and agree. They turned to her and wished her a happy birthday. “Take care and live well!” they said before walking off to go home to their wives. Dong Hoon’s younger brother had already left with his girlfriend to take her home, but not before giving Ji An an unprompted and unexpected hug.

“Good luck!” she beamed before running to Gi Hoon’s side where he scolded her for hugging someone without permission. She proceeded to hug onto his arm. Finally that left the eldest brother Sang Hoon, Jung Hee, and of course her Ajusshi.

“Ready to go home?” Dong Hoon asked her and she nodded feeling like she was going to sleep well tonight. She thought they all were going to walk together again, but Jung Hee complained of a mess and headed inside her bar after wishing her happiness on her birthday. The eldest brother simply waved at them goodnight and told Dong Hoon to keep her safe as he walked home. It left the both of them alone as they made their way to her place.

It was familiar and quiet. Ji An felt relaxed and looked up at the sky. The moon was round and full tonight and Ji An made a note to visit her grandmother first thing tomorrow. “Do you like the moon?” Dong Hoon’s voice pulling her from her thoughts as she looked back ahead.

“My grandma does.” she answered, taking in a deep breath. “She likes the way the moon makes her feel.”

“How does it make her feel?”

They were climbing the steps to the blue door and she stops in front of it. “I’m not sure.” she answered honestly. She never asked why her grandmother liked the moon so much. Ji An turned to her Ajusshi and he was looking at the door behind her as well as the area around them before looking at her. They looked at each other for a moment before Dong Hoon broke the contact first and pulled out a small long box from his bag. “Here.” he said. “Happy Birthday.”

Ji An took the present from him already curious about what’s inside. “Jung Hee thought you forgot.” she said, feeling strange and content as she held the box. Her Ajusshi simply huffed in laughter before pulling the strap of his bag further up his shoulder.

“Head inside and open it later. Get some sleep.” he said before turning away and walking down the steps. She stood there as he headed further down, a bag in one hand and the wrapped present in the other. She clenched tightly onto both just wanting to do something once. Just once. So without thinking she set down both of her presents and ran after him down the steps. He didn’t have a chance to turn around as she collided into him and wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his back. He staggered forward and Ji An held on tighter, thinking he was going to take her hands off, but she refused to let go. Just for a moment she thought. Just once. “Thank you.” she said and meaning it. Her heart was pounding against her chest as his breath caught in his throat before he let out a loud sigh. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking he was going to force her to let go, but instead he patted her hands gently.

“Alright.” he said with the calm voice she couldn’t help but love. “Head inside. It’s late.” he said again and she slowly let go before turning around and running up the steps as fast as she could. She grabbed her things and headed inside, quickly shutting the door before she could see his face. She already knew what to expect.

Later when she was unpacking all the presents everyone gave her and getting ready to go to sleep, she saw Dong Hoon’s present sitting on the table, waiting for her to open it. She was naturally curious and grabbed it, opening up the wrapping paper to reveal a white box. When she opened the lid her expression morphed immediately into one of confusion, wondering if this was actually a gift from Dong Hoon. But after looking at it for a long minute she realized why her Ajusshi gave her this particular gift. She let out a small laugh, before covering her eyes as the laugh built up into a bigger one until she was lying on her back clutching the box to her chest laughing so hard she was crying.

When she calmed down she stared at the ceiling of her room. This gift made her love him even more as silly as it was. Park Dong Hoon gave gifts with meaning after all. She made a note to buy him those new slippers and turned off her light to go sleep. Right beside her inside the box was long white socks for the winter with small dots of ladybugs printed on the top.

[tony-stark-deserves-better]

Fic Request: Tony loved, supported, and protected by the guardians of the galaxy, while Team Cap tries to fight (unsuccessfully) for Tony's attention

I’m not gonna lie, I wrote this in my glitching phone with really iffy characterization for the Guardians of the Galaxy characters. Here you go though:

Tony meets the so called ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ when their ship crashes and the UN sends the Avengers to investigate. Of course by this point the Avengers are simply Vision and Tony, occasionally Peter, but they go anyways Tony once again forcing himself to put on the suit and ignore the memories of the chest plate being ground down into the tender scar tissue below.

Vision leans forwards to rip the door of the ship open right as it’s inhabitant throws it open. Tony can’t help but start as he makes direct eye contact with what appears to be a raccoon with a gun.

He hesitates only for a moment before clearing his throat. “Do you speak English?”

“What planet is this,” the Racoon asks before he turns his head back to scream into the ship. “Quill, come deal with these things!”

“This is Earth,” Vision answers serenely as Tony attempts to process that the animal does in fact speak. “May we ask why you’ve landed here?”

The raccoon opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by the appearance of a green woman who snaps at him. “Say nothing Rocket, we know nothing about them.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” the animal, Rocket, snarls at her.

“I am the Vision, and this is Ironman,” the android introduces them. “We’ve been sent by the United Nations to determine whether you pose a threat to society.”

“Depends,” Rocket smiles, “Got any shit for us to steal?”

A man, who appears to be human, suddenly surfaces behind the other two. “Sorry I took so long, what’s this about?”

“What’s your intent here on earth?” Tony finally asks as he takes off the helmet to make eye contact with him. “Because I have a ton of other shit right now and I don’t need to deal with another alien invasion.”

“I’m Peter,” the man tells them. Then he jerks a thumb at his two companions, “This is Gamora, and that’s Rocket. We also have Groot and Drax onboard. We weren’t actually planning on invading we kinda crashed.”

Tony digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, “How long will it take you to repair your ship?”

“I don’t know,” Rocket scowls, “You showed up and interrupted me in the middle of the diagnostics!”

“A week?” Peter guesses with a shrug. “The thermal protection unit is down.”

“Very well,” Vision says, “We’ll have to request you come meet with the UN than, at the very least so that we can prevent a global panic.”

“Another one, you mean.” Tony mutters under his breath his eyes flicking down towards his chest.

Eventually, the Avengers manage to get all of the Guardians except for Drax to come with them. The Guardians simply refused to leave the ship alone, and decided that Drax’s literalness would contribute the most confusion to their discussion with the UN.

Tony does his best not to stare at the fact that the plant Rocket is carrying is most definitely alive and moving. Instead he focuses on what happening in the UN meeting, trying not to remember what happened with the last group of so called heros you he’d been here with.

Eventually, everything is sorted out except for where the ship repairs and Guardians housing will be. Tony hasn’t been listening for a while now, not when Vision’s voice still makes him mourn for Jarvis.

“We could stay with Mr. Stark,” Quill says, catching his attention. Tony bites his lip. “The compound is available, and Vis can keep an eye on them when I’m gone.”

And that’s that, Tony finds himself caring for yet another superhero team.

However this team tries not to take advantage of him, promising to compensate him once they figure out how to convert credits to American momdollars.

Tony can’t help but become fast friends with them all. It’s not like with the Avengers where they didn’t understand how much effort she Tony put into their care. These criminal heros he met days ago somehow manage to be more thoughtful than a team of superheroes he’d known for years.

It isn’t automatic, but Tony comes to appreciate all of the guardians in a way he never could the Avengers. Rocket and him share a love of mechanics, Peter and him for music. He has a healthy respect for Gamora who reminds him of how Natasha could’ve been. As for Drax and Groots, he finds them funny and cute respectively.At When the Guardians repair their ship, Tony can’t help the sadness that fills him. He knows they have to leave, has been anticipating it, but he still can’t help but wish they could stay longer.

“Don’t worry,” Peter winks at him, “We’ll be back soon.”

And they are; the Guardians attempt to visit once a month minimum, often bringing him and Vision small trinkets from their travels.

“Do I want to know where you got this?” Tony asks once.

There’s a small pause on Peter’s end, “Probably not.”

“You know what,” Tony sighs, “It’s not my Jurisdiction, i only work on Earth.”

When they return and discover that the Rouge Avengers are due to come back for trial next week, they refuse to leave.

“As if we would leave you to deal with them alone,” Gamora grumbles when Tony asks why. “We’re friends.”

Tony manages to secure permission from the UN for the Guardians to come with him when the time for the prison transfer occurs. The Rouge Avengers had turned themselves in, and so T’challa would hand them over to Tony to bring to the UN today. Still, Tony didn’t want to be their alone. He couldn’t help that when he looked at them all he could see is red.

“They don’t deserve your respect,” Rocket tells him. “If they only turned themselves in after years of you revising the accords, of working for this, than they’re assholes who don’t really believe in the accords. Don’t respect them, and don’t trust them.”

“I am Groot!”

The Guardians and Vision stand behind Tony as he talks to T’challa and forces the Rouge Avengers to wait on him.

“Tony,” Steve calls out when he steps into the empty tarmac they’re meeting.

Rockets words echo in his head as Tony ignores Steve; he’s a criminal after all, and not even a simple thief like the Guardians. Steve is a terrorist, through and through.

“Thank you for overseeing their arrest, King T’challa,” Tony says as he firmly shakes the other man’s hand.

“Thank you for taking them,” T’challa says. “I am glad that we were able to work this out.”

There’s a snort behind Tony and a snide, “about time,” that Tony knows comes from Peter.

Both T’challa and Tony ignore him in favor of making their way over to the Rogues.

“Follow me,” Tony demands coolly before turning on a heel and making his way to the quinjet.

“Tony,” Steve calls out as they board, “How are you, how’s Rhodey?”

“Don’t say his name!” Tony hisses, glaring at him.

Drax comes to stand behind Tony, “I would sit down now, so we can secure your restraints”.

Steve glares at him defiantly, before finally taking a seat. The Guardians walk around to ensure none of the rogues can make any kind of escape, before they are content enough to sit back and watch from a distance.

“Are these really necessary?” Clint asks, shaking his hands and with them the chains that hang down.

“Yes,” Gamora tells him glaring. “And if you move I will not hesitate to harm you.”

Clint slowly lowers his arms and Wanda glowers at Tony, “So these are the kinds of people you work with now, alien thugs who are willing to hurt normal humans.”

“Better than terrorists,” Tony informs her bitingly. “Besides, she threatened to restrain a known criminal with a history of violence whereas with you guys I couldn’t even be sure that one wouldn’t be invited to live in my home.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, and he sounds so confused.

Peter rolls his eyes, “It means Wanda messed with his mind and worked with Nazi’s but you still invited her to live with him. We understand friendship, we wouldn’t do that to him”.

“That isn’t how it-”

“Shut up!” Rocket screams, “No one gives a shit what you have to say.”

There’s a brief silence, until Vision speaks up.

“Thank you, Rocket.”

[aiigonorus]

forgiveness.

pairing: eisuke ichinomiya x mc.

rating: mature.

word count: ~2800.

requested by: anon.

content notice: oral (why does that always appear in my stories??), unprotected sex.

a/n: you asked for comforting yet hot smut with eisuke, & him comforting her after she saw him “killed” in his living together story is the first thing that came to mind. like i would’ve been shook af if that had happened to me you know?? hope this does it for you anon! as always, enjoy~

                              your eyes fly open, eyes alighting on an unfamiliar ceiling. where....? you’re confused as to your location until memories of the nightmare you’d just awoken from comes rushing through our mind. even knowing that the whole thing had just been another one of eisuke’s convoluted plans, it’s still something you can’t forget. you sit up, rubbing at your eyes. it’d looked so....real. like he’d actually been killed right before your eyes. & with all of the enemies he’s surely wracked up over the years, it’s not hard to imagine that becoming reality. you look down at him sleeping next to you, the sight helping to qualm your panic a bit. still, even with him resting next to you, you know you won’t be able to get back to sleep. so you      very cautiously     slip out of bed, making your way to the bathroom on silent feet. although you don’t have access to the huge tub in his penthouse, a bath in any tub sounds like the relaxation you really need at the moment. you pull some soap out of your toiletry bag, turning the tub on & pouring some in. the soft rose sent wafts towards your nose, the familiar scent comforting already. normally it’d be difficult for you to relax in an unknown place, but the homey feel of this place is actually more calming than the fancy places you’ve found yourself in ever since you met eisuke. so you strip down & neatly fold your pajamas, setting them on the counter before carefully climbing into the tub. you sink into the warm water with a relieved sigh, the knots in your shoulders relaxing. tension starts to melt out of you as you lean against the back of the tub, your eyes sliding closed. a few moments pass before you, not to your surprise, hear the door open. your eyelids lift enough to see your boyfriend crossing the room to your side, black silk boxers dropping to the floor. his large hands slide under your shoulders, lifting you up enough for him to slip into the water behind you. he pulls you back into his embrace, arms wrapped tightly around your ribs. you rest your head in the crook of his neck, his lips pressed against your temple. “what have i said about you leaving bed without permission?” you fight the urge to glower at him. “what can i say, seriously thinking the man i love was killed right in front of me doesn’t make me all that willing to follow any rules.”

                      if your companion wasn’t eisuke ichinomiya, you’d be tempted to believe the following pause is tinged with guilt. you refuse to be the one to break the silence, closing your eyes again & wrapping your hands around his forearms, almost feeling the need to ground yourself with his presence. “you’re upset with me.” it’s not a question, more a statement of fact. you snort, answering the question without saying a word. there’s another heavy pause before he sighs, lips brushing against your neck. “i’m sorry.” your eyes snap open at the barely audible words, not believing your ears. you turn your head to demand he repeat himself, only to have his lips pressed against yours before you can say anything. unlike his usual kisses, this one is gentle, almost as if he’s seeking your forgiveness. his tongue runs along your bottom lip, & your mouth parts under his gentle attention. the kiss only gets deeper, your heart starting to pound against your ribs. your hand moves to wrap around the back of his neck pulling yourself closer to him. one of his hands moves down your body, cupping your sex possessively. you moan softly against his lips when his fingers part your petals, your thighs automatically parting farther. his legs slip between yours, pressing your knees firmly against the sides of the tub & keeping you wide open for his touch. his thumb rubs circles around your clit, encouraging the excited nub to come out from under its hood. a long finger slides into you, your hips starting to move against his hand. his kiss is deep now, hungry as he feels your eager responses to his touch. a second finger pushes into you, a whine passing your lips as you feel them curl to rub against your g-spot. your fingers dig into his hair, pressing your ass down against the hardness poking at you. “you gonna come for me, baby?” he murmurs against your lips, a third finger sliding against your clenching walls, the bathwater around you splashing onto the floor. with a hard pinch to your clit you’re coming, your hips jerking against his touch as your moans fill the room. his digits slide free from your clenching muscles, soft kisses being pressed all over your face as you come down from your high.

                         by the time you return to reality, you realize he’s gently washing you with a soft washcloth, hands landscaping your body. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so sweet, & you’re as confused as you are enjoying this. you tilt your head back to watch him, his face lacking some of its usual coolness as his touch soothes the tension in your body. his hands move to your shoulders, strong fingers working the knots out of your muscles. you moan softly & wilt against him, eyes closing again. part of you is suspicious as to why he’s acting so differently, but you decide to take it at face value, & let him spoil you. the whole scene is still on replay in your mind after all, & you just want reassurance that he’s really here & okay. you haven’t forgiven him yet, but as you spend more time with him in the quiet serenity of the bathroom, his touch is easily washing away your anger. by the time he lifts you out of the tub, you’ve almost forgotten why you’d been so angry with him rather than the people who’d been trying to kill him in the first place, & you cling to his neck. he doesn’t comment on that, simply grabs one of the oversized fluffy towels (that really don’t belong in such a modest place? did he bring them?) & wraps you up in one. he makes quick work of drying himself off before carrying you to the bed, laying you down on it & stretching out next to you. your mouth waters at the sight of his bare chest, his hair still damp from the bath. you can’t help but reach out, running your hand down the firm muscles. his lips twitch in response, but you don’t mind the arrogance in his expression this time. after the event you’d witnessed, even something that was normally so infuriating felt precious to you. you press your hands to his pecs, pushing him so he rolls over onto his back. he doesn’t struggle, looking up at you with watchful eyes. maybe it’s a genuine desire to comfort you, or maybe it’s simple curiosity, but he seems to be willing to go with whatever you want. you straddle his waist, stroking your small hands down his unmarred torso. he really is beautiful, both in his looks & on the inside - though most people never get past his icy exterior. while you can understand in a detached manner why business rivals would want him dead, someone wanting to end his life...was something you can’t wrap your head around.

                        you slide your hands up his chest, moving them to cup his beloved face. his expression is uncharacteristically serious as your thumbs stroke his cheeks. unable to resist any longer, you lean down, pressing your lips gently to his. he returns the kiss, sliding his hands up your thighs. the towel wrapped around you gives up its pretenses, falling to rest around your hips. one of his large hands tugs it to the side, tossing it somewhere off to the side. normally you’d be embarrassed, but you’re feeling unusually bold, & so you nestle your bare chest against his. soft pillows brush against each other for a few more moments before he pulls away, moving to nibble at your neck. “i want this to be about you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on your legs. you blink with surprise, your lips parting to respond. before you can do that however he suddenly lifts you up, moving you up to rest on his face. you let out a less than attractive squeal, your hands scrambling to find balance. his breath fans across your damp petals, causing a soft whimper to pass your lips. one of your hands find his as the other one rests against the headboard, shivers racing up & down your spine. his mouth attaches to you, tongue swiping the length of your slit. you’re already moaning, hips starting to move against his face as he suckles on your clit. your force your eyes to open, staring down at the part of his chiseled face that isn’t covered by your body with something akin to amazement. how many countless women would do literally anything to be with him, & here you are, riding his face. that thought alone causes your hips to start moving faster, your knuckles turning white from their death grip on the headboard. {click for gif}. “that’s right, ride my face, baby.” his voice is muffled against you, & the vibrations causing tingles to prick at your scalp. you no longer give a damn about his motivation as your free hand slides into his hair, holding him tightly against you. your head falls back on a wanton moan, eyes fluttering shut as your mouth hangs open. oral certainly isn’t unusual when in bed with eisuke, but this is...totally different.

                       you expect to feel one of his fingers on or in you, but one never comes; he seems to be determined to make you come with just his tongue, & he’s doing a pretty good job of it. his hand that isn’t being held captive by yours grips your hip tightly, controlling your movements as he brings you to ecstasy. “e-eisuke!” a growl rumbles in his chest in response to the desperation in your voice, & he seems to redouble his efforts. your nails scrape lightly at his scalp, forcing yourself to look down at him again. his eyes are, to your surprise, open; he’s watching you closely, gaze dark with lust as he gets a rather....exposed view of your body. this man who has no real interest in anything is obsessed with you, that much is obvious by expression. the slight flush in his cheeks sends a shiver up your spine, though he doesn’t seem to enjoy you watching him, even though he has no problem being the one to stare. the large hand on your hip suddenly stills your gyrating, holding you tightly to his face. he suddenly nips at your clit & the tension in your stomach explodes as a loud moan fills the room. he watches you come undone above him as he licks his lips clean of your pleasure, hands catching you as you melt backwards. you fall back onto the comforter, your lover following you as his arms wind around your waist & hold you close. he waits patiently for you to catch your breath, nuzzling against your neck & softly kissing your ear. your own arms wrap around his shoulders, smooth legs winding around him like vines. the orgasm he’s just given you has left you shivering slightly with aftershocks, but you don’t feel completely satisfied, your walls clenching with need. him pleasuring you like that is certainly intimate, but to you, sex needs to include feeling connected to your lover, not just being intimate. not to mention, being the only one getting pleasure almost makes you feel guilty. so you slide a small hand down his front to wrap around his cock, the way he freezes not escaping your notice. his skin is hot, the flesh throbbing against your touch. you brush your nose against his jawline, tone sultry. “are you going to get around to making love to me now?”

                       his chest vibrates slightly, large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from him. “since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, sarcasm clear in his voice. he easily swallows your retort by capturing your lips, tongue sliding in to dance with yours. you moan softly, his kiss seeming to melt your brain, along with any desire to give him sass. you grip his wide shoulders tightly, nails digging into his flawless skin. his arms return to their place around your waist, hands snugly holding your hips. in the next moment you feel him parting your petals, whimpering as his thick length tunnels into you without hesitation. his lips attach to your neck as his hips begin moving, holding you in place as his thrusts start shaking the bed. you feel a sharp sting as eisuke renews the previous mark on your soft skin, his tongue sweeping out to soothe the slight pain. you dig your heels into the small of his back, urging him on. “eisuke, h-harder...” he grunts & complies, sliding his hands up your back to grip your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your collarbones. he pulls you hard into his thrusts, your body bowing off the bed as your scream fills the room. a fine sheen of sweat covers both of your bodies, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. your breasts bounce in time with his movements, your knees pressed hard against his hips. his lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking it deeply into his mouth. your hands thread into his hair again, holding him to you as you struggle for air. your body is all revved up to come undone again, even after having come twice already, squeezing his member tightly. the tension in your stomach coils tighter & tighter until he orders you to come, his voice nothing but a strained rasp. you do as you’re told, the way his cock is nudging your cervix sending you to the moon. you tug on his hair as a keening wail passes your lips, an answering groan breathed out against your neck. the telltale warm gush presses against your womb a moment later, your walls still fluttering around him as the two of you come in unison.

                       eisuke’s body relaxes to rest on top of yours, his heart seeming to be beating just as quickly as your own. a peaceful moment passes before he stirs, sitting up slightly to study your face. “are you still mad?” you blink lazily, stretching your arms over your head & yawning. “don’t think you can just fuck me & things will be all good,” you retort sleepily, the way your arms wind around his neck to pull him close belying your words. he raises a bemused brow, pulling you up the bed so your head now rests on a pillow. “how vulgar.” you shrug, nestling against his chest. “hmph. guess i have no choice but to entertain you.” you look up in surprise, but his expression is as cool as ever. “huh...?” his fingers trail lightly up & down your spine, though you read more lazy fulfillment in the action, rather than amorous intent. “it’ll be boring if you’re mad at me for too long, so i don’t have a problem with getting back into your good graces once in a while.” you’re so surprised you don’t even know what the say; the eisuke ichinomiya is going to basically suck up to someone? amazing. there’s a pause before he speaks again, quieter this time. “& i suppose i realize this time probably did go a bit too far. you weren’t supposed to be see any of that, even if it did help sell the show. i didn’t mean for you to get so upset. ...i’m sorry.” his fingers brush through your bangs, his touch gentle against your face. your eyes tear up, arms tightening around his neck as staggering relief courses through you. “such a crybaby,” he murmurs, his tone tender. “i’ll do whatever you want tomorrow to make it up to you, so don’t be angry with me anymore.” a finger on your chin tilts your head up, his lips coming down to brush away your tears. you sniffle & nod, too exhausted from the day to keep the pretenses up any longer anyway. he smiles softly before giving you a sweet kiss, pulling the covers up to cover the both of you. “i’ll wake you up tomorrow, so go to sleep now.” you willingly comply, sticking closely to him as you fall back asleep. the last feeling you have before drifting off is his strong arms wrapped protectively around you, & his deep voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.