#the rain must dribble before it can pour

[feathers-in-the-night]

FINALLY sitting down to write a bit again after weeks and weeks of inactivity

[cleewii]

WE’VE GROWN TIRED

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!afabreader

rating: m for mature

warning (s): 18+ content, grief, death, angst, mentions of gore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, sub levi, dom reader, badly edited, hurt/comfort???

word count: 2.5K

note: i’m prolly gonna regret posting this as it is right now since i had bigger ideas for it, but it’s been sitting in my notes app for almost a year and i figure it’s decent enough as is. levi ,the loml, one day i’ll pump out an actual full length fic for you instead of this lil blurb of emotionally driven p*rn 💕

I do not permit the reposting/reuploading of my work on any platform. i do not allow the use of my work for other forms of entertainment. not even with credit

days had been spent accompanied by sleepless nights where the recollection of rain slicked fields filled his head. crimson poured across blades of grass like a grizzly wash of watercolor paint, dribbling down into the earth, which he could still taste on tounge. gritty and suffocating. He always wakes from these dreams as though he’d been pulled out of water, drinking in air like he’s been starved of it.

he has no time to dwell on the past. the sun creeps into the morning, and soon enough he’s pulling on his uniform and tightening belts into their buckles. new assignments drone on in the background of his mind, and he works like he’s on autopilot. even when the muscles in his arms and legs begin to ache, and his bones scream within the confines of his body, he does not stop, for at least that can distract him from the emptiness of the seats beside him in the mess halls, and the harrowing silence that fills the dusk.

he’s come outside to the fields to check on the stables when he’s met with a curious sight.

a stone, large and erroded, has been placed a few feet away from the grouped cavalry. blossoms decorate the space in front of it, filling the grass with shades of yellow, red, and purple, and what’s most curious of all is the girl that sits in front of it. between her fingers she twirls the thin stem of a white flower—her mind must be heavily preoccupied because she hasn’t noticed that the fibers holding the stem together have gone bruisy—the petals beginning to wilt in her hold.

she’s muttering to herself, words he can’t quite catch and doesn’t care enough to try, but it’s then that he realizes she looks familiar. that familiarity brings a memory he wishes he could wipe away from the world.

you, the girl who had cradled isabels remains, tears melding with the rain pouring down unto the gore. you’d wrapped her up with the cloak off your back, and carried her all the way back to base. the sight had sickened him in the moment, just knowing that lifeless eyes and a carcass lay rotting away beneath that bone white insignia brought acid to his tounge, but he’d said nothing, even if he wanted to yell and scream, because what on earth could a stranger want with the remains of his family? what could you possibly hope to achieve by lugging grief with you like a medal? he swallowed down the rage, and looked ahead. he never saw you again after that day, but here you are now.

he’s come close enough now to slightly make out your words, and it’s when her name slips from your tounge that you have his full attention.

“wish you could see it, isabel. m’sure you would’ve loved it….”

“what could you possibly know about what she’d love?”

the words come out of his mouth before he realizes it.

they’re bitter, angry, a sort of rage you’d spot in a wounded animal, and he looks at you as though he could pour all of his pain into you and your borrowed grief and be done with it all.

“I…” The words don’t seem to make their way past your lips. you’re stuck staring between the cold sharpness of his eyes and the empty space beside his head, flickering back and fourth like you could somehow find the words written in the air.

What you want to say is that you’re sorry.

Sorry for everything he must be feeling, sorry for the loss that life has dealt him, sorry that you had to remind him of it all. But then you realized he may be sick of the sorry’s, and then you think you want to tell him that she loved him, and you had understood that completely, even though you’d only been apart of her life for a small, precious fragment of time.

You want to tell him all of these things, even if it might make him hate you, even if it makes you hate yourself, and yet, you sit in silence. Mouth pressed thinly, eyes glossy, as though choking on your own shame.

He stomps away before the courage to respond finds you, the words dying on your tounge, and you’re left to mourn alone.

***

It’s funny, now that he thinks about. How cold and cruel your beginning was. So different, a drastic change from the exchanges the two of you would find yourselves in now.

over time he’d see more and more of you. No longer a ghost painted in grief, or a little girl crying for her friend in the mud. You’ve grown, matured into a soldier, evident by the scars in your skin, the hardened look in your eyes, and the tears that no longer come.

As much as he fought against it, he found himself drawn to you. Maybe it’s because you knew about a small part of himself, and loved her enough to honor her when he couldn’t. Maybe it’s because you fought to wedge yourself into his life, forcing him to know you, down to the atoms of your being, the endless secession of thoughts in your mind—so far and so long he had to wander the planes of your existence. Somewhere along that journey, he found himself pushing forward without your hand to guide him. He began to wonder, and soon enough he began to long, and finally, when the tension grew so thick you could cut through it with a blade, you confronted him with secrets he’d been harboring, and returned them with your own.

It’s safe to say you’ve become much more than the girl at the grave, wearing your insignia of bones.

hushed and hurried, you’re frantic in stealing away his every breath. swallowing down his frustration and yearning to take all of him for yourself, no longer reserved and eager to take up as little space in his life as possible. now, you take from him what you will and want, however much of him you can in the few minutes time allows you.

try as you might, time is an unmerciful lord.

When flowers bloom, beautiful and bright, filling the world with a spectrum of color after such bitter cold, it is hope for the future. Hope that no violent winter will fall upon the life that has sprouted, but this hope is short lived, and eventually, the clouds thicken, the world sinks into gray, and we are forced to birth anew. time holds the earth in its monstrous hands, and the joy the two of you find is picked at, threatened to be wrenched away once things have finally begun to brighten.

***

“i think there’s going to be a storm.” You glare at the darkening sky, fingers digging at the thin cotton of your shirt.

“that so?” Levi keeps his eyes on the stack of paperwork before him, the warm glow of the candle at his desk illuminating the parchment. the weather had been calm only moments ago, just before the two of your retired into his office. the pot of tea at his side is still warm.

“a bad one,” you turn. your eyes linger on his form and the shadows waltzing on the wall behind him.

his looks up. his lips pressing into a fine line.

***

It’s a shame that the light-hearted days are gone.

back then, it wasn’t all about saving the world. back then, losing didn’t mean the fall of humanity. nothing changes the weight of loss, grief continues to sit within levi’s heart like a cancer, and no matter the stakes, it’s a tumor that will never disappear, but there was a vision within it. the desperation for answers to impossible questions, there was a rhythm to it all. It made sense, and as much as he hated to admit it, the predictability was something he appreciated.

But that’s gone now.

the world has twisted itself into an unforeseeable monster, and he rides its back hoping it won’t shake him off and leave him in the dust. the day he lost his entire team was the first sign that something was coming—that the good old days were gone. long gone.

how he wishes it were the good old days again.

***

the first time you kill another person, he’s right there beside you.

he can tell that you’re scared, a fear he’s been familiar with for years, and one he could only hope, try, and then fail to shield you from. he’d never been the type to try and evade weakness, not for himself or anybody else, but for you, he’d pray to whatever god was out there that you’d never know that type of pain. even if pain made you stronger, even if it was what made you the person you were now.

***

shakey hands grasp at the plackets of his shirt, fumbling with buttons and boutonnières, almost tearing the fabric in the process.

“hey,” he takes your hand in his, pulling them away despite the way you huff. “you need to calm down.”

your shoulders rise and fall clumsily with the weight of your breaths. you’d been trying so hard to stomach down the guilt—forcing a mask of cold determined stoicism in the hopes of putting your subordinates at ease. turns out, you could handle stone hearted objectivity as well as directing your blades towards another human being.

the grip he has on your hands is so gentle you could crumble. i don’t deserve it, comes the thought, and as hard as you try to wipe it away, that voice comes to you as violently as it had long ago. your unable to meet his eyes, scared he’d see the way you’re slipping, and you know all that awaits you is the worry you wish he didn’t have to deal with.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, letting the fabric of his shirt fall from your hands. “i….im just—“

“scared. i know.”

“this is so hard, levi. i cant….” you swallow. “i dont want to keep watching it happen.” he knows what you mean without you having to explain it. he knows that weight on your shoulders, the pit in your stomach, the ache in your bones. he knows it because he’s felt it time and time again.

“i’m so tired,” your head falls against his shoulder. his hand reaches to cup the back of your head, silent as you sniffle against him.

“i know…”

***

you’re still upset; it’s present in the way you offer no words, just the sound of breathing and soft moans between the two of you.

your skin is hot against his, lips selfish with the need to kiss him again and again. You take what you want and he lets you—gives it all to you.

the undertones of frustration and anger linger in the air, neither directed at either party but still present nonetheless. it was bound to happen, with how shitty the past few days have been. the everyday had managed to leech itself into a moment where it shouldn’t have been allowed to, and the thought makes Levi sick.

not here, not now, and never with you.

“slow down….” he groans when your hips grow to a rather brutal pace.

“too much for you?“ there’s a halfheartedness to your voice. your lips brush against his ear and he can’t help but groan with it. disregarding the bite to your words, you do listen to him and slow to a steady grind, quelling the burn in your muscles while you sigh with the warmth he brings.

his hands drag from your thigh up to the flesh of your hips, thumbs digging into the divit where your skin creases with soft affection. savoring the moment, he thinks. savoring time, and nights of peace, and you. he drinks in your expressions, the curves and hard lines of your body, the softness of your skin beneath his touch, and the rise and fall of your chest that follows with every breath. his nose traces your throat, shivering as your hand follows up the back of his head and lays pressed against his cheek. “just want to make this last. don’t be a brat.” he murmurs, letting his lips feather across the skin of your jugular. “take it slow with me…”

you hum in response, and feel the aggression and frustration melt out of you. yes, there wasn’t room for any of that. never when it was just the two of you. the rest of the world, and the realities beyond your closed bedroom door falls upon deaf ears as the two of you meld into bliss.

for the first time in so long, you can feel the ache leave, and you invite him to take its place for however long he’ll allow.

if he had any say it in, he’d do it for the rest of your lives.

Your name passes through his lips as a breathless whisper, his fingers digging deeper into your skin.

“Hold on just a sec, honey.” you press kisses to the sides of his face. “M’almost there, too”

He buries himself into your neck, swallowing down a hiss when you speed up just a bit.

Fuck. You were gonna be the death of him.

“Oh, Levi,” Your fingers pull at his hair, “Fuck, you’re so good to me.”

His eyes go a bit glossy; a pretty sheen washing over his steel eyes as he lets you overcome his each and every sense. You. You. You. In every crevice of his mind he finds you, and when he pulls himself back into your arms the words come tumbling out.

“Love you…”

You trace a soft touch up the nape of his neck, letting your fingers find the soft fuzz of his undercut with a grin. “What was that?”

“I love you.” His voice breaks off a bit, feathering into a breathy groan.

“I love you too,” You kiss just below his ear, then press another to his throat, and then finally catch his lips with your own. “so much.”

maybe that’s what does it; the driving force behind the snapped knot, the crescendo in the pit of his stomach, so sharp and so hard, soothing over his bones with warm sweet nothings. He throws his head back with a broken moan as it washes over him, painting the feeling of your throbbing cunt into memory as he fills you up, so sweet and tight.

a small voice in his head tells him that was a bad idea, that he should’ve been more careful, but the weight of you in his arms, your soft mouth pressing rosette kisses to his skin forces that voice away.

it takes a minute before he finds his own. “feel better?”

“yeah,” you breathe, “much better.”

“good.”

[thebalancer]

Everlasting Flower: Nae Sarang~Lies of P Fanfic: Prologue

{Welcome to my Lies of P fanfic. I figure I post here on Tumblr just to make my Tumblr active again. This story was posted on A03. I hope you enjoy.}

~~~~Nae Sarang: A Korean word meaning “My love”~~~~~~

The cold dribbles pour on the dystopian city once a perfect world recked in coat of bloodshed and death. No nearby individual around - only the sound of the clicks of the heel boots against the rusty streets original covered in friendly citizens under a bright sunny day such as herself; those going on their day for work, jobs, or whatever they may go. Now, the road that once took her little feet to the bread shop every Saturday leads her in a long-lasting nightmare she cannot escape from. The shaky tired breath puffing out the human’s slightly open human’s lips trying to ease the racing heart inside the cage. The left hand in a clutch of a sharp knife coats in a dirty cloth. An incident in a childhood place - death almost snatched her way, but the dangerous risk the young woman took learned from the studies in the past saved her life.

Blood stains of her own mixed with the oil stains from the metallic murderers hunting for her own soul covered her elegant short purple dress that sway from the gloomy breeze.

Alone.

Lost.

So Cold.

Afraid.

The survivor has only herself and the task told by a trustworthy White Rabbit who sacrificed her life for the “child” from the harm of the large puppet threatening them: Go to Hotel Krat. The safe haven in all of the city. Use the pocket watch given by the white rabbit to guide the way. It is the only way to safety until she can reunite with the ones she got separated from. In hopes they all still live before she can. Armed with a sharp dagger carve like a deadly blade found in the blacksmiths crafting station, the rose clings onto it with the hand previously covered in small harmless cuts from things like a papercut or a cat scratch, now coat in large cuts and bruises. The knife originally used for cutting innocent, everyday meals becomes a dangerous murder weapon she must use to defend herself.

Battle after battle.

Death after death.

All blood. No escape.

Everything she must do to survive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loosing her breath after making a daring escape of fleeing from a pack of hungry puppet dogs as if they’re hunting down their main prey, the dark heavy rain continues pouring down - no signs of stopping any time soon. Enough where the young innocent girl with long, silky hair held by a headband, an neat uniform under a proper coat from a well-trained alchemist over her shoulders, and frames in helping see words better seem to be in the past. That young girl is now dead; in replaced with the older one with short, dark blonde that let her natural waves through, a look more suited for a survival in the wasteland, and eye makeup that’s not too heavy or too light, but enough where her eyes stand out. However, even some of the makeup is wearing off from the carnage. Her beautiful pale face many adore now show another side of her, a fighter.

The cold creeped on her skin quickly causing the muscles in the body to try and regenerate heat as possible, yet the nervousness the survivor is undeniably experiencing that the muscles are having a difficult time relaxing. As fight or flight are at stack. In a situation like this, one…. Must kill or be killed in this city after all.

A sudden red glow sparks on her heart, on the dress latched a gem brooches shaped into a heart. Seemingly connecting its energy in the blue crystal wrapped around her neck.

“What is it?” She asks out loud, sounding both frustrated and tired from all the chaos happening around her. The ergo belong to a deceased relative of hers whispers - being a Listener has both its strengths and weakness….at least for her. They tell her the hotel’s not far. She’s getting close to the destination up north. She should make sure to use the pocket watch gifted by White Rabbit lady Kochou in guiding her the right path.

There.

She sees it.

Hope.

The safe haven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gigantic structure high as a sturdy castle appears from the mist before her very own earth eyes. Full injured lips lift up in a form of a smile. Finally, at long last, the location she strived in finding.

“The hotel…..I made it,” She mutters to herself. The pain cause her to tense up and hiss. “Hopefully, there’s people that can help me…..I’m not a puppet, so I’m fine.”

The survivor knocks on the grand door. A voice of the defense system speaks from the speakers: “Welcome to the sanctuary of the Grand Coverant. Prove your identity. Who are you?”

“My name is Rhosyn Syltha. I am a human. I seek refuge here.” Answered she.

“Grand Coverant Fourth Law: A Puppet cannot lie. Welcome to Hotel Krat.” And the doors unlock. She grabs the handle of the giant structural door. A relieved exhale comes out while pulling open the new chapter in life.

Rhosyn made it to the safe haven. Safe from all harm outside. Inside the hotel shine the beacon of hope and peace surrounding by ancient structures.

Welcome to Hotel Krat.

[wooyunhwa]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔰 | 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔴𝔬

check pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (with plot!)

Pairing: mafia au!seonghwa x fem!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: kidnapping, non-sexual violence, bondage, spanking, choking, sensory deprivation (blindfolding), mentions of alcohol use, 

Synopsis: Kidnapped and helpless, Seonghwa is the only one that can save you. Will his secrets finally come to light?

A/N: Thank you so much for reading and comments are always appreciated <3 I hope you guys like it! Stay tuned for part three!! Sorry, had to end on another cliffhanger, but I promise, you won’t be disappointed with what part 3 has in store. My tags aren’t working at all so if you could reblog this that would really help me and this story be seen I’d really appreciate it! So much work has gone into this. Thank you~ 

The trunk of the van was cold and unforgiving against your limbs as you sat helplessly against the wall, the curve and bumps of the road jostling you slightly. It was hard to keep your balance with your wrists bound together behind you. In front of you, your ankles were also bound tightly with rope. Your captors had blindfolded you, and no matter how much you writhed and tossed your head around, you couldn’t figure out a way to slip it off. Not that it would have mattered - your eyesight was the least helpful thing you could have had right now. Your screams and cries for help only echoed uselessly in the metal cage of the van, and at a certain point your voice gave out and you gave up entirely, hanging your head in defeat.

You felt the van swerve around a sharp corner, nearly toppling you over on your side. The car rumbled beneath you as if going over loose gravel. Finally you halted to a stop, lurching you forward slightly. The doors of the van unlatched with a distinct click and swung open. The voices of the men were clear now. 

“Help me grab ‘er,” one said, and you felt the van’s weight shift as he climbed in the back with you. You screamed as he grabbed you and yanked you from the open trunk. You were met with the brisk outside air and the cold, wet feeling of rain gently falling around you. 

The man guided you by your shoulders through the gravel, and you shuffled your feet to keep from tripping. You were inside a building now, and he shoved you down onto a creaky wooden chair. He took a second to re-tie you to the chair before slipping the blindfold off, your eyes taking only a few seconds to adjust to the dim light in the room. It looked like you were in some kind of shed, maybe even a barn, but you couldn’t tell. There were two men in front of you, one significantly taller than the other, their height being really their only distinguishing features. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart. We won’t hurt you as long as your little boyfriend brings us what we want,” the taller man said. The pet name made you cringe. 

“Fuck you. And he’s not my boyfriend,” you sneered through gritted teeth. “What do you want from him anyway?”

“Not your business sweetie,” the shorter man said.

“I don’t know how much of a piece of shit you have to be to kidnap an innocent girl, but don’t think Seonghwa is gonna let you get away with this,” you spat at them. You don’t know what overcame you to be so openly combative with the men who were holding you hostage, but the spite dripped so easily off your tongue. 

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you? Don’t make us gag you,” the tall man said. He stepped close to you, tipping your chin up to look at him. You cringed in disgust, trying not to meet his eyes. “We don’t want to hurt a pretty girl like you,” he said, running a finger across your jaw. You fought back the urge to bite down hard on his finger. You might have been angry, but you didn’t have a death wish. 

“We’re not worried about Seonghwa. He might be the boss’ son but he has... well… a reputation. That pretty boy would never have the guts to do anything,” the shorter man said from across the room, laughing lightly. “I don’t know if you knew this, but your boyfriend has a reputation for being kind of a pussy.”

“Still not my boyfriend,” you grumbled through your teeth. Despite what they were implying, you weren’t worried about his ability to fight—you could still vividly recall the smooth and almost effortless way he took out your boyfriend, the way he stretched out his fingers casually afterwards like it was nothing to him. You remembered the way Seonghwa looked at him like trash on the floor afterwards. And most of all, you remembered how Seonghwa had told you he made arrangements to ‘take care of him’. Although you didn’t question it much at the time, a part of you wondered if he had ordered for him to be killed, especially knowing the connections he must have. You shook the thought out of your head. There were more important things to worry about, like being tied to a chair in some dingy shack. 

The taller man stepped away from you and leaned into his partner’s ear, whispering something you couldn’t make out. 

They left shortly after that, leaving you tied on the chair for what could have been anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours, you couldn’t tell. Your eyelids began to grow heavy as you waited with nothing but your thoughts and the pattering of rain on the ceiling.

A loud noise shook you from your trance. Someone had kicked through the door, and it rattled off its hinges easily as if it was held together with duct tape.

Seonghwa. 

In your sudden relief, you could only choke out one stupid sentence. “You probably could have just opened that, you know.”

He laughed at your unexpected greeting, but quickly growing serious again at the sight of you tied helplessly to the chair. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” 

“No, not yet… fuck, can you get me out of these things? They’re starting to cut off my circulation.” you gestured to the ropes viced around your limbs.

Your relief was short-lived. In an unskillful display of desperation, your kidnappers shoved their way through the kicked-in door frame. Was your vision giving out? You were sure you had been kidnapped by two men before, but there were four now. Fuck. You were confident in Seonghwa’s ability to fight against two men, but four? The newer additions were much burlier, too. 

Seonghwa turned on his heels to face the captors, but he seemed unshaken. He shot you a confident glance over his shoulder, and something gleamed in his eye. What was it? Was he seriously going to take on four men on his own? What kind of overconfident idiot-

Before you could conclude your thought, one man was on the floor already. There was a sickening crack and a thud as he hit the ground, but Seonghwa hadn’t moved. One of the men lunged forward. He grabbed Seonghwa by the lapel of his jacket, cocking his elbow for a hook, but Seonghwa intercepted him with a viper quick jab to the throat. He staggered back, saliva dribbling from his lips as he clutched his throat. 

As your line of vision cleared, you saw two additional men had entered the fray. At first you thought you were fucked, but then you heard a voice call out a friendly greeting. 

“Yo, Hwa! Heard you were getting your ass kicked.” 

The distinct sound of a fist hitting flesh echoed against the walls of the room, and another one of the kidnappers staggered back. 

“Who, me? Like hell,” Seonghwa called, smiling viciously as he dodged another blow from throat-punch guy, who looked furious. Seonghwa landed a well angled hit to his jaw, effectively uppercutting his lights out. He landed hard on the floor, dead weight as he was knocked cold, and Seonghwa turned on his heels to grab his next victim. 

A flash of red hair caught your eye as he ducked and weaved between two guys, while a blonde guy wound up a swing with a crowbar like an all star baseball champion. Red hair baited one opponent closer, ducking just in time for blondie to knock him out of the park. The sound of the crowbar hitting his teeth sent shivers down your spine, but you simultaneously wanted to leap up and cheer them on. You stayed glued to your seat, heart pumping with adrenaline. 

Molars scattered across the floor. Poor guy landed hard, wailing in agony as blood poured from his lips. Red haired guy threw a lethal cross, twisting his hip to power up his momentum as his fist impacted the other guy’s nose, most likely shattering it, sending him staggering back in a daze. He fell right into Seonghwa, who grabbed him by the jacket and sent him careening toward the wall, his forehead cracking against a support beam. He dropped like a rock, and the room fell quiet, save for one guy shrieking in pain. A swift boot to the jaw silenced him, and blondie turned, tossing the crowbar over his shoulder with a satisfied smirk. 

Seonghwa turned back to you, rubbing his bruised knuckles with a huff. His lips turned up into a smile, and he gave a nod with his head toward the new guys. 

“So, these are my cohorts. Wooyoung—” he paused, pointing at blondie, who tilted his head up in a friendly nod, “—and Jongho,” he pointed at the redhead, who gave you an adorable smile and a wave.

“So this is the girl, huh?” Wooyoung said, smiling at you as he looked you up and down. Out of the three of them, he looked the most like he belonged in the mafia. He wore a loosely fitted leopard print button up under a black leather jacket, his side-shaven bleach blonde hair neatly styled with gel. “She’s cute.”

Next to him, Jongho stood sternly. You wondered how this baby-faced guy could have taken out the burly one all on his own. He seemed younger than Seonghwa, but certainly stronger. “She definitely looks like your type, Seonghwa,” Jongho said, flashing a knowing smile at him. “We all know you like a girl in bondage.”

Seonghwa’s face immediately went flush. “Shut up, Jongho,” he said, shooting him a threatening glare. “Come on, help me untie her before more of their goons come looking for them,” Seonghwa said, moving around the chair to loosen the tight knots bound on your wrists. 

You turned your head over your shoulder and widened your eyes at him, arching your eyebrows as you watched him skillfully disentangle the knots. “You like a girl in what?”

“We can talk about this later,” he muttered through his teeth, his cheeks an incriminating beet-red.

“Careful, you’ll scare her off,” Wooyoung teased. 

“Honestly, if getting kidnapped didn’t scare her off, I don’t think anything will,” Jongho reassured Seonghwa with a pat to the shoulder. You felt oddly proud at that, for some reason. He was right, you were a tough cookie, you could handle a kidnapping or two. 

Seonghwa gave you a hand as you rose from the chair, steadying you with a delicate hand around your waist. Your joints creaked from being tied up for so long, but you could walk on your own. Still, he kept a protective arm around you as he escorted you back to the car. You stepped over one of the unconscious bodies on your way out, his tall frame blocking the doorway. You cringed at the puddle of crimson around his mouth, but celebrated your freedom nonetheless. His hand twitched as you lifted your leg over him, and you flinched, curling your fingers tighter into Seonghwa’s shirt. He laughed softly, pulling you close. 

You slid into the passenger seat of Seonghwa’s car, the plush leather of his Bentley Continental soothing the ache in your bones. It was hands down the single most expensive thing you’d ever touched, and you couldn’t help but to imagine what it would be like for him to pick you up in it for a date. You sighed as you relaxed into it, feeling tired from the adrenaline comedown. 

A blacked-out Mercedes S Class revved its engine as it peeled out of the lot, and Wooyoung winked at you from the driver’s side window. 

“That douche,” Seonghwa laughed as he turned his key in the ignition. The engine purred decadently, and Seonghwa slammed on the gas, tearing down the road right on Wooyoung’s heels. You gripped the edge of your seat as the inertia slammed you backwards, a thrilled laugh bubbling up from your chest. 

He shifted gears, launching into a high speed battle of pride with the other guys, flying down the rural highway with his tongue poking out in concentration, one side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. He put the S Class in his rear view mirror, and you couldn’t help but to roll the window down, shoving your fist out with a triumphant holler. You grinned widely as the wind blew your hair in a wild tornado, your screams and laughter lost in the roar of the highway. You noticed Seonghwa peek over at you, a tiny smile tugging at his lips, but just for a second. 

Exhaustion hit the moment you stepped into his apartment, but your mind was still reeling from the day’s events. You didn’t plan on getting much sleep that night, and you were still a bit angry at Seonghwa for not disclosing the fact that he was in the fucking mafia, but you chose to shove those feelings aside. Mafia or not, you still felt much safer with than without him. 

“Seonghwa.” 

“Hm?”

“Don’t leave me tonight. Please?” you looked at him with the biggest, saddest eyes you could manage, hoping to hit a soft spot. You didn’t need much.

He sighed. “Of course I won’t. This is all my fault anyway. If something were to happen again I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

And so he stayed.

You talked for a while on the bed as you tried your best to calm yourself down. You were still in a rush of nerves from adrenaline and relaxation felt hopeless, sleep even more so. In fact, sleep wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities.  

As you made conversation, you recalled a question that had been nagging at you since he'd saved you earlier. You could have asked him anything you wanted. You could have asked what the men wanted, or how he found you, but instead…

"Hey… what was with that thing Jongho said back there? About ‘liking a girl in bondage’?”

Seonghwa immediately pulled his gaze away, breaking eye contact, heat rising in his cheeks like before. “He was just teasing me.”

“So it’s not true?”

“I never said it wasn’t,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. You admired the curve of his jaw, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than for him to take you right there. His eyes went dark as he paused to pull his gaze up and down at your body. “I always thought you’d look good tied up for me.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. You saw how he looked at you, hungrily, as if picturing you bound to the bed frame right then. But something seemed to be holding him back, like he was trying to resist the temptation to fall back into a bad habit. You wouldn’t let him. You held out your wrists playfully in front of you. "Well then tie me up." His eyes widened at your proposal. "C'mon. Look, I can't sleep like this. I need a distraction. Please."

He drew his tongue across his bottom lip pensively, before finally giving in with a click of his tongue against his teeth. "I really can't say no to you." 

You smiled at how easily he conceded to your pleas. He was surely thinking the same thing that had been on your mind for the past week—this was going to have to end, and some time had to be the last. He had made you promise to never contact him after this was over, and you were sure now more than ever after putting you through danger that he was going to hold up his end of that deal. This would be your last soiree with him, and you wanted—no, needed—it to count. 

He leaned in, hooking his hand on the collar of your shirt, eyes glazed over with lustful intensity. “You’re too dangerous for me, you know... I have no control when it comes to you.” A shiver traveled down your spine. That’s exactly what you wanted: you wanted him to lose his control for you, you wanted him weak for you. You wanted him to want you like you wanted him. “And that’s why I want to make this last time unforgettable.”

You broke the thick tension between you with a slow, sensual kiss, sliding your tongue against his. He nibbled at your lip as you pulled back slowly, lingering your lips precariously close to his, nearly touching. His fingers dug into your waist hungrily. “Do your worst.” 

“Are you sure you mean that?” he asked carefully. The air between you grew hot as the tension rose, your lips barely grazed against each other’s. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Something about the amount of restraint he seemed to be exercising told you there was a part of him he was holding back, something more animalistic. 

“You have to tell me if I’m being too rough, okay?” he said, voice smooth like honey, tracing a finger along the curve of your jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You nodded eagerly, willingly accepting his terms. If this was the last time you could experience him, you wanted everything he had, no matter what it was. Something about the soft way he talked about hurting you gave chills. He was entirely gentle and yet his words felt sinister. 

He stood up to receive something from the closet, what looked like a thin scarf. You expected him to cinch your hands together with it, but instead he sat himself behind you, pulling the silky material around your eyes and fastening it tightly with a knot at the back of your head. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice deep and smooth like honey.

He let his fingers wander down your neck and shoulders, pausing to stroke your collarbone. His touch was gentle but electrifying. You were entirely blind now, but you could feel the heat of his gaze from behind you. The blindness was exhilarating, as it left your other senses completely heightened. He continued to let his fingers trace your collarbone as his lips made contact with the sensitive skin at the back of your neck, placing slow and sensual kisses slowly down your neck and shoulders. He took his time, excruciatingly, as you squirmed in anticipation for his next move. You were truly submissive in the blindfold—he had complete control over his next move. The thrill of anticipation made your head spin.

Still behind you, he lifted the hem of your shirt up slowly, and you followed suit by pulling your arms up to help him strip you. He released the clasp of your bra, gently removing it. His hands wandered at your breasts, tracing over your nipples until they grew hard and sensitive. 

Out of nowhere, you felt a sudden tension around your wrists behind you. The familiar rough sensation of rope cinched your arms together. “You’re doing so good for me darling,” he whispered in your ear, delivering one final tightening of the knot, causing you to yelp out in surprise. “You look even prettier like this than I imagined.” 

You were sitting on the bed now on your knees in only your panties, blindfold cutting off your vision, wrists bound behind you. Seonghwa sat straddling you from behind, and you could feel he had stripped entirely. He caressed your body for a while, teasing you with a brutally faint touch. You moaned and squirmed eagerly as he wandered his hand closer to your already soaked panties, rubbing his fingers against the damp fabric. His fingers slipped inside you briefly, and you let out soft pleasured moans. The sensation was overwhelming after such excruciatingly drawn out teasing. 

Your moans were cut off by Seonghwa’s finger hooking over your teeth and pushing into your mouth. You sucked at it eagerly, and he shoved a few more inside, eliciting an involuntary gag. You heard Seonghwa sigh lustfully in your ear at the sound, taking pleasure in what he was doing to you. “That’s it baby,” he said, his deep voice resonating like music to your ears. His other hand continued to pulse in and out of you, and you were practically dripping now, unable to hold back your neediness. Your pleasured moans were muffled as you sucked and licked at his long fingers.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered. He’d never been so forward or vocal before. You loved hearing his deep voice dripping like honey in your ear-- just the sound of it could have been enough to drive you all the way over the edge if he kept talking. 

“Mmf- I want- you- fuck me-” you mumbled through his fingers, and he shoved them in further, eliciting another soft gag. You couldn’t express what you wanted, not only because of his fingers muffling your sounds, but your head was spinning from his touch. “Please- fu- mm-”

“How cute, you can’t even get words out.” 

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, drool pooling at the sides of your lips. Between your legs, his other hand pulled your soaked panties down your legs as he began to circle your clit with his thumb. You whimpered under his complete control. He used his fingers so masterfully, like everything else he did. His contented breaths in your ear sent shivers down your spine. 

He repositioned himself suddenly, sitting up tall behind you, and dragged you up straight against him. You felt both his hands move under your ass, hoisting you up over his waist and pushing you down on his dick without warning. You let out a choked cry as his dick stretched you out entirely. “Fuck, Y/N…” he growled, his voice getting darker every time he spoke. “You have no idea how much I want to ruin you.”

He rutted his hips up under you, thrusting himself even deeper inside where you sat on his dick. You let out another cry, and his hand came up to your neck. Your arms, still bound together behind you, squirmed and writhed at the urge to claw at the fingers viced around you. You loved the sensation as his grip tightened, sending you soaring in an unfamiliar headrush. He bucked his hips up and down as you tightened around his shaft

“Seonghwa, fuck- ah-” Your choked cries seemed to spur him on to grip tighter around your neck. Your high nearly spilled over into darkness as he loosened his grip suddenly. You let out a few sputtering coughs as you caught your breath. 

He thrusted a few more times up into you as you caught your breath. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay- ah- I like the pain,” you said breathlessly. 

“Mm…” he sighed roughly against the back of your neck, planting a few soft kisses. “You really shouldn’t have said that.” 

His hands came to your waist, hoisting you off his dick. It slid out with a lewd sound, and you felt him get up from behind you. You were sure you looked like a drooling, horny mess, still bound and blindfolded on the bed helplessly. 

You sat there for a while in silence, and the anticipation of his next move kept you on edge, unable to settle in. The silence was unnerving, almost excruciating. Was he gone? Was he watching? 

You snapped up when you finally heard footsteps again, pacing around the room and then coming towards you. He leaned into your ear, pulling his arms around your waist to untie the ropes around your wrists. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked carefully. You nodded. You did trust him, but at this point, you would have said anything to keep his hands on you. You didn’t care what he did, you just craved his touch.

“With your words.” 

“Yes, yes, I trust you Seonghwa. Please.”

He untied your blindfold and it slipped off your face, falling to the bed by your knees. It was dark, but your eyes took a moment to adjust to the faint glow of the moonlight washing through the window. His face overwhelmed you instantly—you didn’t realize how much you’d missed it while blinded. The cut of his jaw was the first thing you noticed, then his dark, lustful eyes sparkling in the faint light. His lips pulled up into a smirk as he watched your eyes trace his features. You’re sure the look on your face indicated the way you were marveling at him, as if you were admiring the world’s most beautiful piece of art. 

“We’re gonna play a game,” he purred, still leaning over the bed where you sat, fully freed from the ropes. His eye contact was piercing, almost terrifyingly.

“What’s the game?”

“I’m gonna fuck you, and every time you make a pretty little noise…” he delivered a light smack to the side of your ass. “I spank you.”

Your jaw dropped at his proposal. You liked it—you already admitted you liked a little pain to him earlier—but was this the same Seonghwa you practically dommed in his penthouse? 

“What if I can’t control it?”

“Well then your ass is going to hurt tomorrow, isn’t it?” 

You gulped, nodding. His aura oozed power now. He may have been in the mafia, but he’d never displayed so much power, so much control, until now.

He climbed on the bed, flipping you over easily and guiding your face to the pillows. He hoisted your hips up to be flush with his, running one finger along your folds to test your wetness, before aligning the tip of his cock at your opening. Already, you were struggling to hold back moans, your body trembling under his touch. 

He slid the tip in slowly, and you rocked forward in pleasure, biting your lip to keep in the noises. He positioned one hand at the small of your waist, the other on your ass, waiting. As he thrust himself all the way in you couldn’t control the cries that fell from your lips. 

“What did I tell you?” He said, delivering the first harsh smack to your ass. You gritted your teeth at the sudden impact, but the light sting also felt incredible as he rocked inside of you. Your breathing grew shallow as he toyed with you, switching up the pace in a way that had your head spinning. You could tell he wasn’t moving in a way to get himself off—he wanted to watch you squirm. 

He thrusted in another time, hard, and you whimpered involuntarily. Another smack. This went on for several minutes, Seonghwa continuing to deliver harsh smacks to your ass until it was stained with a permanent sting. You were shaking under his touch, and he let up, rubbing your back with comforting pressure. 

“Have you had enough, darling?” he cooed softly, almost condescendingly, but it sounded amazing coming off his tongue. You nodded. “Mm, okay, we can be done now.”

He stroked your hair as he thrust himself back in, picking up a considerable rhythm now. You moaned like your life depended on it now, finally able to let it out. He gripped a hand in your hair, pulling it together into a messy ponytail, tugging lightly as he slid his dick in and out. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he pounded into you. You could definitively say now that he fucked exactly how he looked—like a god. 

His other hand made its way underneath you, tracing your clit. It only took a few seconds of stimulation for your orgasm to hit, and it was more intense than you’d ever experienced before, or imagined you could experience again. It rocked through your body like a wave, overtaking you entirely. You let out a final cry as it reached its summit. Seonghwa let out a final grunt as he reached his tipping point, pulling out of you to spill over onto your back. 

You collapsed onto your stomach, completely spent, and you could swear you blacked out for a moment while he brought in a damp washcloth to clean you up with. 

The dominant side of him seemed to melt away instantly, as he stroked your back gently. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you too much?”

You nodded drowsily, all your pain seeming to dissolve under his touch.

You fell asleep on him that night, nestled in the warmth of his neck. You fit so perfectly in his arms like that, like it was meant to be. You imagined what it would feel like to cuddle up to him like this every night, but the thought was too good to be true. You knew this was the last chance you would have to touch him like this. 

It had been several months since you last saw Seonghwa, and you were just starting to move on from him. Well, part of that was true. The last time you’d been in contact with him was when he had dropped you at your apartment, ex-boyfriend nowhere in sight. You didn’t push him too much on how he managed to “take care” of him, assuming he’d paid him off or ran him out of town by threatening him. Either way, you had just been happy to be back home. Your days with Seonghwa felt like a distant fever dream, but it was several weeks until you could get the taste of him off your lips and his image out of your mind. 

You did your best to scrub him from your head, but it felt impossible. He haunted you in every way possible. 

On one day of particularly drunken weakness, you paid a visit to his bar. You justified it by saying you were just checking in on him, making sure he was okay, but really you just wanted to see his face. Was it risky? Extremely. Were you drunk? Also extremely. You sat in an indiscriminate seat at the end of the bar, hoping not to be seen. But another part of you wanted him to notice you, regardless of the consequences. That was the drunk part.

But he didn’t notice you. In fact, he wasn’t even concentrating on the happenings of the bar at all. You could see him atop his VIP throne, the one that overlooked every seat in the bar from the lofted second story. He had a girl by his side, his arm draped around her waist, clearly flirting. Scorching heat rose in your chest as you watched him seduce her, your heart stinging with a fiery jealousy you had never felt before. In the back of your mind, you always knew he was bound to be back to his socialite self, bringing girls up to his penthouse suite every night—the same penthouse suite you had shared that first fateful night… and the morning after. Even so, the jealousy burned in your throat, and so did the alcohol you were knocking back to drown your feelings. A large part of you wanted to disappear off the face of the earth right that second, shrink into the bar stool and never be seen again. The other part wanted him to notice you, even if just for a moment. You didn’t care if he was mad that you came, you just wanted to take him in up close again. You wanted him to acknowledge you. You watched in anguish as he let the girl by her waist in the direction of the elevators, not to be seen again. You left the bar that night sobbing, and didn’t stop until you passed out in bed. Since then, you swore you were never going to think about him again. He wasn’t worth it. You had to come to terms with the fact that you were just another one of his playthings—one he just happened to take pity on.

You swore you’d move on, and you did, mostly. The independence of not being tied down felt incredible, and you took advantage of your newfound sexual prowess to download a dating app and have some fun for yourself. But there was a small part of you -- one that you didn’t ever want to admit to—that could only picture Seonghwa every time you fucked another guy. 

11pm. 

You were laying in bed, swiping hopelessly through men on your phone, sifting through hundreds of desperate guys you couldn’t care less about. You couldn’t sleep, even after a few pathetic drinks alone in your kitchen, when you heard a knock. You had felt on edge about people coming to your door ever since the kidnapping, but today you were too tired to deal with the incessant knocking. It just kept coming. It was probably your neighbor coming to tell you you left your lights on again. 

You swung the door open, wondering who could possibly be knocking with such carelessness at this time in the night.

Park Seonghwa.

You were immediately flooded with the same intimidated feeling you had on the night you met him. He looked like a model, maybe even a god, standing in your doorway. He ran his hand through his freshly shaved undercut and you took in the sight, unable to tear your eyes away. He looked just as stunning as you remembered—even more so. But something wasn’t quite right. He was swaying slightly, and as he spoke your name, the words were slightly slurred.

“Y/N… I-”

“Are you drunk?” 

“No… yes… maybe,” he laughed lightly before stumbling inside without an invitation. You knew enough to move out of his way. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You froze. You’d never seen him so incoherent. You immediately recognized the smell lingering a bit too long in his breath as the expensive champagne he had poured for you in his penthouse that night.

“Seonghwa, how much did you drink?” you asked, voice laced with concern. You led him through your apartment to the couch, where he plopped himself down with an alarming amount of force. 

“Enough to know what I really want.” He looked up at you with sparkling eyes. “You.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you said seriously. 

His eyes glimmered with lust. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I want you to fuck me right here.”

This man was dangerous. And you didn’t mean in the mafia sense, although that was also true. You meant in the way he could completely ruin you if you let him. You had tried so hard to finally wipe him from your memory and move on, but you were stained with a constant desire to feel his touch again. You were finally moving on until now, when the desire surged back in, and it was like it had never left. 

“You’re drunk,” you said dismissively, doing your best to ignore the fact that you definitely wanted to fuck him, like right that second. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

His eyes looked heavy as he struggled to even hold the cup in his hands. His eyes were glued on you with the lust of a thousand horny teenage boys, but something about his hungry gaze felt comfortable to you, and you welcomed it. 

“You look like an angel,” he muttered softly. “You’re an angel sent from heaven to ruin me. I know you are.” You laughed as he seemed to get more incoherent. You glanced down at your oversized pajamas, wondering what he meant when he said you looked like an angel. “I missed you… I-I can’t get your body out of my head.”

You shook your head, trying to clear any desire you had out of your mind. He was way too drunk. “Shh, Seonghwa. Lay down.” 

You grabbed the water glass from his hand and handed him a blanket, guiding his shoulder gently down a laying down position on the couch. You settled in next to him, and he placed his head in your lap. Something about his current state felt incredibly vulnerable, and you’d never seen him like this. 

You petted his hair softly. He looked up at you with sad, sparkly, drunken eyes. “You’re pretty,” he said with a dorky smile. 

You chuckled. “You’re drunk.” 

He nodded, and his eyebrows furrowed suddenly. “I hate my father.”

You zipped your lips tightly, trying to give him room to continue. He still hadn’t spoken about his family since the first night at his house, and you wanted to take advantage of his drunken state. 

“He treats me like his puppet, but I’m nothing like him. I never asked for this. I just want to live a normal life for once.” You nodded, urging him to keep going. You didn’t want to ruin this moment of vulnerability. “You know those paintings… at my place, above the bar? Those are mine.”

“You bought them?”

“I painted them.”

You went silent. You couldn’t remember them in detail, but you remembered that they were beautiful, like they belonged in a museum. You kind of assumed they were stolen, to be honest.

“You painted those? All of them?”

“I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” He paused. “But I’m trapped being my father’s stupid fucking puppet. I’m supposed to take his position next year, but I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it. I’m so sick of the bar. He expects me to just sit there and keep his appearances for him. I’m sick of just drinking myself numb and fucking girls mindlessly.” 

Fucking girls mindlessly? Was he fucking you mindlessly?

“Girls like me?” He paused, trying to remember what he had just said. “You’re tired of fucking girls like me?”

“No…” he shook his head vigorously, realizing what he said. “You’re the only girl that has made me feel something... in a long time.”

Your cheeks went red hot. What was he admitting to you? His eyes were getting heavier, and so was his head, the heavy weight of his skull starting to crush your thighs. You stroked his hair a few more times and gently scooted out from under him, guiding his head down to the couch. 

“Get some sleep.”

You checked on Seonghwa immediately when you woke up. He was sitting upright on the couch where you left him last night, hunched over slightly, rubbing his temples. He raised his eyes as you walked in. “God, what happened last night? I feel like I got hit by a train.”

“What do you remember?”

“Drinking… and not much else.”

“Do you remember what you told me?”

He froze, the look in his eyes quickly transitioning from confusion to pure terror. “Oh god… what did I tell you?”

“Everything. About your family. Your paintings. You told me I was pretty.”

“Well, that last one I don’t regret,” he said, rubbing his temples harder. “Do you have like… some painkillers? Coffee maybe? God...”

“Wow, you really don’t get wasted much.”

He chuckled. God, you missed his laugh. “Takes a lot.”

You returned to him on the couch with a cup of coffee and some Ibuprofen. Something about giving him painkillers felt… wrong. As ridiculous as it sounded, by the way he carried himself, you would think he was almost invincible, like he didn’t even feel pain or something. You plopped yourself down next to him, and you talked for a while as he drowned his hangover with coffee. 

You made him breakfast, buttered toast and fried eggs, and suddenly you felt like a housewife. It was nice - you wished you could do this more often. He smiled at you around his toast, with his messy, tousled hair and tired eyes, and he almost looked human for once. As close as he ever could, at least. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, thanking you for breakfast as he pressed his lips against yours. You melted against him, embracing him like your body was designed for it. You wanted to hold him close and never let go, and the idea of him never coming back was one you shoved deep into the back of your mind as you deepened the kiss. 

He pressed you against the counter, kissing you like your lips held the answers to all of his problems, and you kissed back like you knew how to solve them. His hands were warm as they slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, and you ran your fingers through his hair, soft and freshly cut. 

You dipped your fingers into the waistband of his pants, and his hands immediately tightened their grip on your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your hands sank further down, teasing your fingers over his cock through the fabric, and he groaned low in his throat. 

He pulled back suddenly, a concerned look growing on his face. “What time is it?”

You glanced at the clock. “11am. Why?”

“Shit. Fuck. I have to go.”

Damn it. It was just getting good.

“Will you come back?” you asked, a little too desperately. You flashed the puppy dog eyes you already knew he couldn’t resist. You didn’t realize just how much you had missed him until he was right in front of you, his hands all over your body. 

He sighed. “I mean, there’s no point in hiding anything from you anymore. I guess I laid everything out on the table when I burst in here drunk last night.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise. I just have some… matters I need to attend to with my father.”

“Is that why you were drinking?”

“It’s not important,” he said dismissively, and suddenly you felt him building a wall again. You gave him one more soft kiss before he left. 

“Don’t let him get to you, okay? I’m always here if you want to talk about it.”

He gathered himself up quickly, glancing over his shoulder one last time before heading out. “Thanks.”

Over the next month, you dated in secret. Nothing was ever explicitly stated about the nature of your relationship, but he visited you almost every night, and you did everything together from dinners to movie nights on your couch to fucking on the kitchen counter. Well, mostly the last one. You weren’t sure if you could call him your boyfriend, but he would have been by anyone else's standards. 

Every day that passed you learned a little more about him. The thing you liked the best? He was secretly kind of a dork. Contrary to the serious and powerful image he put on to the outside world, his true nature was much softer and sweeter than you could have ever anticipated. You fell for him in the simplest tasks: the way he hummed while he washed the dishes, the way he cried a little when he laughed too hard, the stars that shined in his eyes when he discovered something new. You wondered if he had ever experienced such simple things before, things you took for granted - watching sitcoms at 2am, the pain of eating a little too much ice cream, the unadulterated joy of laughing over a bowl of cereal after a long night of sex. You’d watch his eyes sparkle at every new experience, and there was a part of you who really, really wanted to meet his father so you could punch him for ever depriving Seonghwa of a normal life. 

Even so, there were moments when he struggled to open up. There was something still so dark about him, mysterious, hidden. Even after experiencing his wide-eyed, almost childlike sense of wonder, you detected something still slightly sinister kindling within him -- something you would expect out of a mafia boss’ son. He kept a tight seal on the resentment inside, but you knew it was festering just under the surface. You had tried to get him to talk about it, but he evaded your questions each time. You wondered when he would finally boil over. 

A knock sounded at your door. Seonghwa, for your date. 

You opened the door with a sweet, expectant smile. “Seonghwa! Just in time, I was making-” The expression on his face caused you to pause. He looked frighteningly serious, more than he usually did, and that was saying something. You furrowed your brows. “What’s wrong?”

“We have to go right now. I can explain in the car. Get a bag together, only what you absolutely need.”

“Seonghwa what the f-”

His voice went completely dark, commanding as he spoke. “You’re in danger. We have to go. Now.” 

[bee-s-honey]

Describing HxH Character's With Pretty Scenery Or Actions Or Objects pt 1 (maybe)

I don't really know how to explain this but..enjoy!

Mention of a lot blood in Hisoka's!

Chrollo Lucilfer:

1800s ink from a crystal glass jar getting violently knocked over onto a poem written on parchment paper

Burning down a rotten building. It had vines crawling out of one window, but the window was already crumbling to the ground under its own pressure and the house looked like it was winking, yet still screaming at the same time. The grey of the sky is not able to compete with the orange of the hellish flames

One shimmering diamond with perfect shape and a gleam bouncing around the middle of it sitting on a silver band that has a quote carved into it

A dandelion, now roughed up from being thrown, resting on dirt. The flat land around is scarily undisturbed with no hills or bumps and it's so compact on the ground that it feels like stone

A purple candle alight on top of a wax catcher. It has purple flowers carved into it's sides and dust fills the lines. (I have no idea if a wax catcher is a real word for it it might just be described as a candle holder or something help)

Kurapika Kurta:

A honey colored glow from the sun on thick snow that hasn't been walked on at all in a very clear and empty place without shadows

A blood orange cut into neat halves on an old china plate, the blue lace designs on the edge bright for their time

When the water of the shower feels like needles after being outside in the cold to the point where your hands are almost numb and you can't tell if the temperature of the water is too hot or if your hands need to adjust

Maroon red cherries all clean on their napkin before somebody starts taking the seeds out and the color streams in bloody paths

Light blue crystals on golden chained earrings, similar to oval shaped diamonds. They reflect the light around and splay themselves across your jawline when you tilt your head.

Killua Zoldyck:

A large freckle on the very edge of a shoulder blade with moonlight from a window cascading down on it

A crunchy, cold strawberry covered in pink chocolate with sprinkles on top

Holding somebody's hand in the night while a thunderstorm rumbles outside. Light is reflecting off of their finger nails, their breath on your hand icy but present

The rough edges of a tab that you fidgeted off of a grape soda can

Blue raspberry flavored candy staining your lips and teeth while you laugh with your friends

Gon Freeccs:

An unrealistic cartoon version of a swamp. For something in nature it looks so clean, and each long strand of messy vines is defined and the water looks so grey but so clean you'd want to swim in it. Maybe there's fish in there that don't belong- coy fish, out of where they should be but so bright it feels right.

When the sun hits a raindrop just right and there's a rainbow inside of it as it slides off a leaf

A horseshoe above the front doorway, decorated with turquoise beads and carved plant shapes. Initials are centered from when it was first placed, but for a moment the horseshoe is taken down so more can be carved in symbolism of the protection of the family being shared

Tree roots sticking out of a hill edge with a family of flowers and a rusty bottle cap staying under them

Moss on top of charcoal, creating a little hill that the sun beats down on just before a stomp from large boots shoot mud everywhere

Hisoka Morrow:

Blood of an unsettling light color spilling onto white marble and somehow not staining it. Is it because it's fake? A scene for a movie perhaps? Or are you in a dream, only the smallest details being unrealistic?

A kiss on the cheek from lips covered in those kinds of round sprinkles before everything goes black

The feeling of when you're going up the roller coaster and realize the bar holding you down is a bit too loose. As the fear builds up you press your own hands down to keep it as best you can and you don't know if it's you that's making it work or if you were paranoid. Still you must hold on until it's over because you aren't sure and despite it all by the end it felt even better than the first time you rode

Lemonade mixing with blood from a nose after a glass was thrown at a face, stinging coming to play and glass stabbing into a cheek

Leorio Paladknight(?last name hard to write) :

The smell of musky yet sweet incense filling a comfortable office with only one lamp in the corner for light and the sound of the door opening as soft as a small *tap*

Chopped firewood sitting in a holder to be burnt. It has dark oil stains spilled just a bit, and beside rests rough gardening gloves that someone, someone safe like a dad or a husband or a friend, had used when cutting the wood

Coffee in a white mug. There's a chip on the rim of it, a dribble of creamer running down the cup from the hurried pouring job of a busy man

The sound of pages turning from somebody reading a book while scratches and scrapes of a pencil are from someone else drawing in a notebook

Illumi Zoldyck:

A white, pretty butterfly landing on a natural black mushroom, the long drooping shape making the under part a nice home to a few bright ladybugs hiding from the sun

Roses growing from a deer skull, overflowing with tiny little black Beatles that look like dried blood stained on the red

When the wind is so strong that you can hear it from inside your house and you think it's a loud, pouring rain, only to go out and all around it's dry and the wind is whipping around the trees, this odd feeling of euphoria and adrenaline kicking in just because of the absolute energy all around

When you look outside your window during nighttime, scared that you'll see anything even though you're safe in your home, and yet at the same time you're waiting- nearly wishing to see a face just run up for no reason

[vampire-named-gampire]

Carry On Countdown - Day 8

Hello! Here’s my fic for the @carryon-countdown. It’s longer than what I’d usually post on tumblr, but I haven’t really decided if I want to continue it or not and I don’t really have the time to decide since uni is kicking my butt this week.  It’s un-beta’d so sorry for any grammar mistakes or just general messiness of it

Prompt: Rain Word count: 1669 Rating: Teens and up Summary: 

Baz drags Simon out to play football, despite the stormy clouds looming above them. 

SIMON

Baz insists that I play football with him. He says it’s so that he doesn’t get out of practice, but I know it’s because he’s trying to assure I get enough exercise. Apparently, it’s good for depression.

I do usually feel a bit better after our games, so I haven’t said no yet. (Even though he beats me every time.) Plus, sometimes it’s easier to compete with him than it is to be soft and do all that romance stuff, so I think it actually helps us. A bit.

I mean, it’s still hard sometimes. Being touched. Being kissed. But football is almost like fighting and we all know fighting makes things easier for me. Besides, Baz looks beautiful on the pitch. And he’s brilliant at football. And when he gets sweaty, he wipes his face in his shirt and I’m usually left staring at the faint trace of muscles in his stomach. (This must be a vampire thing – I’ve never seen him do crunches.) (Maybe he does them in secret.)

I think he’s noticed me staring and he does more of that on purpose now. I’m not complaining. I’ve stopped complaining about our football matches too.

Well, except today. The sky is grey and heavy with clouds and this is England, so it’s definitely going to rain. Baz knows this, yet he’s still dragged me out to the football field. Honestly, when I see him in shorts and a tight, Under Amour turtleneck under his t-shirt, I nearly stop complaining.

Nearly.

“We’re going to get soaked,” I announce as we get out of the car. Somehow, the sky has gotten even darker on our way from my flat to the football field.

“You’re not made of sugar, are you?” Baz says, grabbing his football ball.

“I’m going to leave puddles in your car. You wouldn’t like that.”

“I’ll spell you dry. Or I’ll make you sit on a towel.”

Damn, it was worth a try.

“Look, we have the whole field for ourselves,” Baz says as we pass the squeaky metal door onto the football field. It really is completely empty – usually, there are multiple groups playing at once on one field and it drives Baz up the wall. He says half of the blokes who come here don’t even have a basic grasp of ball control.

“Yeah, because everyone else is reasonable and can see that it’s going to start pouring any minute now,” I huff.

“Listen, if it starts raining, we can always go back. Now come on, warm-up.”

He makes me do warm-ups too. Five laps around the pitch and then some quick stretches. The first time we went, I was near death by the third lap, which is ridiculous, considering I used to fight monsters. (I guess a year of lying on the sofa will do that to you.)

The first time we went, I nearly doubled over at the sight of Baz stretching his calves. That hasn’t changed. My ability to run has. I can now almost keep up with Baz’s human speed, although he does sometimes tap into his vampire powers just taunt me. (As if his long legs weren’t enough.)

Getting better at running makes me feel slightly better about myself. Like my life is moving forward – like I’m actually improving at something. (I’m not. I used to be faster, stronger – I’m merely getting some of myself back.) And it usually helps me sleep.

 Once Baz deems us sufficiently warmed up, he passes me the ball.

“What do you say, Snow, do we play across the whole field?” he asks. Sometimes he’ll teach me some technique after warm-up, but today, we’re apparently going straight to the game.

“Okay, but you can’t use your vampire strength.”

“When have I ever used my vampire strength?” Baz feigns being offended. I roll my eyes.

“I could think of a few instances.”

“I can beat you even without the vampire strength, love,” he smiles. “Come on. You can start.”

 Playing across the whole field is exhausting. I finally manage to steal the ball from Baz, but it feels like it takes me forever to sprint across the pitch and towards my goal. Baz tries to steal the ball back, but the tip of my tail is pressed against his chest, holding him at distance. Huh. This has never happened before. Usually, I tie my tail around my waist when we play, but that’s uncomfortable so I just untied it when I saw nobody was on the pitch.

Still, it’s helping me. If it wasn’t for my tail, Baz would’ve stolen the ball from me already.

“If I can’t use my vampire strength, you can’t use your dragon parts either,” he calls just as I send the ball flying towards the goal. The net shakes. Score!

“I’m going to let you have that one, just because I know I’ll still beat you,” Baz says, jogging to get the ball.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, darling!” I call after him, even though I am pretty sure he’s going to beat me. He always has.

The first raindrops fall just as we get back into the game.

“Do you want to keep going?” Baz asks as he dribbles the ball, effortlessly avoiding all my attempts of stealing it from him.

“Yes,” I say, trying once again to snatch the ball from him. It’s hard work, especially when I’m also trying to keep my tail in check.

Not even a minute later, it’s full on pouring. My shirt is clinging to me, cooling me down, and Baz’s hair is falling around his face in wet strands. He must be cold, but he keeps playing, confidently leading the ball towards his goal.

I chase behind him, trying to block him, or whatever it is that I should be doing, but the grass is wet and I don’t have posh wanker football shoes like he does, so I end up slipping, knocking both of us over in the process.

He ends up on his back, with me half on top of him.

“Ouch, Snow! This isn’t American football, you’re not supposed to tackle people, you know?” Baz immediately starts complaining.

“It was an accident!” I say, rolling off of him, so that I’m also on my back.

“Troll’s arse, it was. This deserves a penalty kick at least. Maybe two because you got my shirt all muddy,” he laments. I roll my eyes at his theatrics.

“Nobody’s stopping you from getting up and spelling your shirt clean,” I say.

“I am severely injured. I might die any second.”

“Oh, come off it, you’re a bloody vampire,” I laugh.

“So this is how it ends; a Chosen One straight to the chest.”

I’m beginning to get worried, but he lets his head fall in my direction and I see a teasing smile stretched across his face. The tosser is just messing with me. Of course he is.

“You’re a git, you know that?” I growl, grabbing him by his waist and pulling him closer to me. He barely has the time to react before I kiss him.

I’ve kissed Baz before, many times, but snogging on a football field in the middle of a downpour is new. He’s cold – too cold – and I pull him on top of me. Baz makes a sound of surprise against my lips at that and I think he might pull away, so I tangle my hands in his hair, holding him closer. I’ve never touched his hair when it’s wet before. It slips through my fingers with ease and clings to his face.

I think Baz has worked through his surprise now, because he catches my lower lip between his teeth and tugs at it, his hand travelling down my side and settling on my hip. My shirt is so wet there’s almost no friction to his movement and it feels amazing.

I try running my own hands up and down his back and it makes his breath hitch. Moments later, his lips are by my ear, kissing and nipping at my earlobe.

“Is this okay?” Baz whispers, his breath so close to my ear that I can hear him despite the rain. Usually, this is the point where I’d start feeling panicky and uncomfortable, but today is different, for some reason. Maybe it’s the thrill of it all – I mean, kissing in a rainstorm is proper hot. I nod feverishly and I can hear him smirk against my ear before he starts kissing down my neck.

I take the opportunity to slip my hands under his shirt because if I’m feeling confident today, I might as well use it. Baz loves it when I run my hands up and down his stomach, so I do just that. (I don’t do it often enough. Usually, I’m scared.)

His reaction makes me forget why I was ever scared to do so in the first place. He practically melts against me, a small gasp escaping his throat before he comes back up and starts kissing me with even more vigour. It’s so good, it’s so good, it’s so good.

Thunder rumbles in the background and Baz pulls away. I look at him with a puzzled expression.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says, scrambling to his feet.

“What?” I sit up, still trying to comprehend his sudden change of pace, anxiety rising up in my chest. Did I do something wrong?

“Thunder, Snow. We’re in an open field. It’s not safe.”

“Oh.”

He offers me his hand and I let him pull me up. Then he kisses me again, like he can’t resist himself. (He probably can’t.)

“Can we…” I fumble, trying to find my words. I expect Baz to jab at me, but he just waits while I compose my thoughts. (I should snog him more often if it makes him stop being a prick.) “Can we, uh… continue this at home?”

His lips curl into a smirk and he takes my hand.

“You know we can.”  

[ajoy3fanfics]

Soup for the soul

The car that killed me must have been going 20 over the limit, if not more. It didn’t help that the weather was not ideal- a fine shimmer of rain, overcast skies. A less than perfect condition for a walk, certainly so for someone without an umbrella. I had given it to my neighbor, a young girl of 10, out on an errand for her ma. The air felt charged, like the skies would open at any moment and pour down on me. I know I looked both ways before I ran across the street- would never have stepped foot on the black tar without doing so. That was the last thing I remembered, as the back of my head hit the pavement. Thick, warm blood oozed out, outlining my frame as it dribbled down. I struggled to keep my eyes open. The clouds really did look like they were opening-

I sat up abruptly, rubbing the back of my head. It hurt- at least, it should hurt. I had to squint against the brightness of my new surroundings. White- blinding, pearlescent tones everywhere. Good glittered from any tangible object- tables, chairs- all spread out. The room seemed to go on forever.

I knew the car hit me. Knew that I should be in dire need of medical assistance, but as I carded my fingers through my black curls, they came back dry.

“This must be heaven.” I say it low, a whisper. That must be his table. A seat at his table! I knew then that I had made it. My hard work, dedication to the good book, kind deeds, selfless acts- all of it saved my soul. I always pictured pearly gates, angels in feathered wings waiting to judge me as I dropped in. I quickly turned, hoping to see any sign of Gabriel.

No one. Not a being. Not a soul. Was this purgatory? Forced to wait in limbo?

Finally, I heard footsteps . It may have been minutes, could have been days- but the relief I felt when I saw the robbed figure walk towards me was the same. “Wait!” I called. “I’m ready to be judged!”

The angel turned my way, a bundle of vegetables in his arms. The orange of the carrots was a stark contrast to the environment, yellow potatoes were round, cleaned of all dirt.

“You’re ready?” He asked incredulously, “but you have nothing prepared.”

I lunged towards him, eager to plead my case. “Look in the book angel, you’ll see how good my soul is-“

“-soup.” He corrected.

“Soul.” I repeated slowly, feeling very unsure of this angel. “My soul is good!” At that, the angel let out a tired sigh.

“Don’t tell me humans are still reading that outdated version.” It was more to himself than to me. “That book has a typo.”

“Excuse me?” I could feel my panic rising, and suddenly I wondered if I was actually in heaven. I thought I was supposed to feel an overwhelming sense of calm, not confusion.

“We’re looking for good soup, not good souls.” He explained.

“Soup.” I managed to repeat, astounded. “Soup?! What on earth would you need soup for?!”

“Exactly!” He exclaimed, “you have it on earth, but not here. We’re looking to create a fully sustainable paradise. The basics are good soil knowledge, solitary care of animals- all things that seemed to be commonplace until recently. You lot seem to be growing in numbers with less usable skills. Tell me, do you know how to till land?” He let loose the vegetables in favor of grabbing my hands to inspect them. The carrots and potatoes floated, waiting to be collected.

I shook my head no. “Of course not. You know how to cook? At the very least, if food were provided, you could chip in and assist in the kitchens?”

I shook my head no again, completely bewildered. “I always ordered out.”

“And what did you do, before you came here?” Talk about holier than thou.

“I worked in advertising.” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“What good would that do us here? ‘Heavens pretty great’ I think we got the message covered by now.”

“So I’m going to hell because I can’t cook?” I felt my anger rising. “I lived a good life!”

“Fantastic.” The angel said, “A good life should fill everyone's bellies. I’ll just let the farmers know that they can put down their plows, you’re good life will keep us fed.”

“But- But I followed the rules-”

“Of a typo.” He nodded his head, as if he understood my point.

“How was I to know that?!” I was yelling now, desperate.  

“We have sent several signs to remediate the error. We are no longer taking beings based on the mistake. Enough time has passed-”

“What signs? Where have the signs been that I needed good soup to get into heaven?”

“Chicken soup for the soul? Soulfood? Ever hear of Hell's Kitchen?”

My jaw was slack, I tried in vain to close it several times. “You’re telling me I should have figured out that God wanted me to make soup, based on Hell’s Kitchen?”

The angel smiled. “Gordon is doing the Lord's work.”

“This isn’t right.” I looked around at the tables, the angel with an armful of raw food. “I thought heaven was supposed to be a place of peace, you know, ease? Why? Why the focus on food? I thought this was our reward for a lifetime of work?”

“This is a reward. Unlimited food to be harvested, never a famine. You can work but never feel tired. No ailments, never hunger.. Your needs being met, a full belly and a lifetime with those you are about are not reward enough?”

“No, I-”

“Leave it to humans to attach their own ideals to heaven, make it about them and their wants. Sorry to break it to you, but paradise requires give and take. It's a collective. We all have to pitch in to keep it going. We're a community here.” The way he said it made it sound like the decision was already made, book or no book.

“I can do other things, I can- I can clean! Or- or…- I can learn! Teach me angel!” I begged. “I can’t go to hell because I ordered take out.”

“Just go back.” He waved. “Too much time has passed for you to return to your body. Just reincarnate.” He waved over to the left, and suddenly a sign appeared, an arrow pointing down.

“You expect me to jump off the side of- whatever this is- and just… start again?”

“Exactly.” He shrugged. “Maybe pick up some gardening skills while you’re down there too.”

I walked to the edge- there was suddenly an edge- and looked down.

“How do I know this won’t really kill me?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

The angel turned, leaving me at the precipice alone. As he walked, he called over his shoulder, “It's a leap of faith.”

The weather wasn’t ideal on the day that I died. The clouds had looked like they would open up at any moment and release the rain. I wondered if I would still go through the storm on the way down.

I found this prompt on @writing-prompt-s​, and thought it would be fun to write! I hope this doesn't offend anyone- that is not my intention. I don’t typically share the short stories I write outside of my fandoms, but since I used their prompt, I wanted to share :)  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XXXII

Warnings: dark elements, dub/noncon (blood, death)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader must turn the tables.

Note: Alrighty, so I’m pretty sure this is the second last chapter and I know y’all don’t want it to end but I’ve figured it out and I’m gonna tie it up as neatly as it can. Thanks for reading and supporting this adventure. Hope you enjoy.<3

Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

The last day in Brook’s End. A rare summer storm poured down on the castle. You watched the rain from your window as you sat in the stone frame. You had spent much of the day with your ladies. It was the usual tedium of needles and gossip though you could barely focus as your mind slipped back to the chapel; to Bucky’s lips; to the king’s desk. 

You excused yourself early that afternoon. The downpour had brought with it a headache and a particular churning in your stomach which just wouldn’t relent. It could as easily be the stress. Your night was as sleepless as any but not because of the king, but for your own guilt. And so you were exhausted and yawning into your hand as the sun descended behind the clouds.

The door of the receiving chamber opened and closed. You let a leg slip from the stone ledge as you turned. Light footsteps, much unlike those of the king which you had learned so well. Rita appeared in the door of the bedroom and she saw you at your perch. You greeted her but received the same stony silence as usual.

“You are early for your evening duties,” You said as you leaned upon the sill. “Might you come back shortly when I am more inclined to retire?”

“You had plans, your highness?” She wondered as she raised her nose to you. “Perhaps your prayers do await you in the chapel…” She smiled. The first you had seen upon her thin lips and it was revolting. “Or another?”

“I have attended my prayers for the day, though I see not why you should be concerned,” You stood and clutched your skirts tightly. “Rita, I do warn you, I tire of your petulance.”

“And I of yours.” She countered. “I do watch you flaunt your sin before the court. I see your conduct behind the king’s back and how it does change when he is around. I do remember the queen before you and the fate she did meet upon your dalliance with her husband.”

“Be that as it may,” You kept your voice firm. “I am still your queen now so I do expect a degree of respect.”

“What shall I respect in you, your highness? That you should marry a king you do not love and then cry to your mother like the child you are? Or that you would meet with his own man in the chapel and commit your sins before the lord himself?” She bared her teeth like a snake ready to bite.

You swallowed and glared at her. You moved away from the window, closer to her. She was taller but you did not fear her. Could not if you meant to prevail. 

“And what proof do you have of your treasonous accusations?” You hissed.

“My ears. My honesty. My loyal duty to the king for this last decade as his own mole.” She gloated. 

“If he does trust you, then why haven’t you told him already?” You demanded. “Hmm? Did you hope something of me? Gold? A title?”

“My only wish is to see you fall as you did topple another,” She snarled. “I do wish to attend your execution and watch you bleed for your treacherous and repulsive crimes.”

“And so you do intend upon unveiling these revelations to him when? Tonight?” You neared her still. “And I do wonder if your faith in him is well-placed for I think he might believe his own queen above a bitter old servant.”

“I believe the king to be proud and discerning. As much as he might let himself be fooled by you, he does retain a sliver of intelligence.” She scowled. “And your own lies have never been so convincing, have they?”

“Then let us wait for him and I shall listen to you tell him,” You challenged as your stomach threatened to flip. You had less faith than her but you would not wilt from your fate. If this maid would try her hand, you would at least attempt to swat it away. “And I shall see him dismiss you for your falsehoods.”

She smirked as she stared down at you. You raised a brow and for a moment you were in another time. It was Eleanor stood across from you, her eyes burning into you. The same detest there; the same disgust. You were still the pretender but it was plain to see, you were surrounded by the like.

“So sit,” You said with a forced smile, “The king shall return soon enough and I am so eager for him to hear you.”

“As am I,” She backed away and lowered herself into the armchair. “My lady.”

“Your highness,” You corrected her as you wandered back to the window. “Until he does decide upon that title’s veracity.”

You inhaled as you looked out across the muddy yard. Your lungs burned as if you’d been running and your heart threatened to shatter. You felt as if you would retch and you touched your stomach. Your head pulsed and you reached to touch it as the thoughts flurried with the wind.

What would the king think? Would he believe her? Was she truly his mole? After your attempt at flight, you wouldn’t be surprised that he would replace your maid with one more loyal to himself. So then why had she waited to reveal that you did not love him? Did she plot to entrap you first? You shuddered and turned away from the window.

You paced to the bed and then around it. You neared the chest that had only been partly unpacked. All the better as it would be loaded again on the morrow. The king hadn’t allowed it to be emptied as he had been as impatient as ever to have you. 

You peered down into it; several of his shirts were tossed carelessly over the contents from nights past. Ledgers below and a golden box of his jewels. You bent and flipped over the smaller chest within. His many rings, his, pins, his chains; they caught the light and sparkled back like a dozen eyes. 

There was something else beneath them. Duller. Silver wrapped in leather with smaller flecks of topaz along the rear bolster. The dagger was small but sharp. You reached within and pushed past the gold and gems atop it. You heard the door again and your fingers wrapped around the hilt.

You stood and hid it behind your back as Rita went rigid in her chair. You turned to her and smiled nervously. She stood. Your heart stuttered.

“We will wait for him in here,” You said shakily as you neared her. “Do not worry…” You gripped the dagger tightly. “He will appear soon enough and…”

You revealed the blade and the maid blanched. “What are you--”

You raised it to your bodice and slashed, only deep enough to cut your shift. She gaped in confusion as you came closer and brought the point across your cheek until blood began to trickle. You winced and held the knife up before her face and slid your other hand over the blade until it sliced the inside of your knuckles.

“You’re mad!” She almost yelled and you tossed the blade away to the floor.

You latched onto her and struggled as she tried to pull away. You smeared your blood across her and between your bodies. You wouldn’t let her get away as you felt the dribble along your jaw patter onto your bodice. You could hear another moving around in the receiving chamber.

“Help! Help! Someone help!” You cried out.

The footsteps stomped to the door and you saw the shadow of the king as he filled the frame. He was startled to find you entwined with the maid and you threw yourself back and fell upon your rear. You splayed across the floor helplessly.

“She has cut me!” You held your hand as the maid stood over you in shock. “My king…”

You looked to Steven as his eyes fell to the floor. He stared at the knife and stepped inside to grab it from the stone. His disbelief darkened to anger as he stood straight and looked between you and Rita.

“Call the guard,” You urged. “Call--”

“I did not! She is ma--” Rita argued shrilly.

The king marched towards the maid and grabbed her by her greying bun. He wrenched her head back to bare her throat and you watched as he lifted the knife. Time seemed to slow and speed up all at once. He dragged the silver across her neck as she let out a noiseless shriek. You watched the blood spill from her throat as she sputtered.

Steven released her and she fell forward to her knees. The life faded from her eyes as you sat up frantic. She fell forward onto your skirts, her head just between your knees as she bled onto your dress. You opened and closed your mouth as the warmth seeped into your dress. 

The king stood above you with the knife still in hand. His lip curled as he looked down at the dead woman. You couldn’t think, could only see the horror before you. His eyes met yours and he set the knife down on the table just beside the chair. 

He blinked and rounded the body to bend over you. He grabbed you under your arms and lifted you to your feet as Rita slid off of your skirts. You were shaking so bad he could barely keep hold of you. He pulled you close and pressed your head to his chest as he hugged you.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright. You’re alright,” He breathed. He edge you towards the door as he caressed your hair. “Shhh…” He raised his head and called over his shoulder. His voice sounded even bolder in his chest. “Guard!”

The door opened for the third time that afternoon as you head lolled against the king. He looked down at you as your legs went lip. “I...I….” You could barely breathe as your eyes rolled back and the darkness took you.

👑

When you awoke, you saw blood. It was a moment before your vision cleared and the red canopy above came into focus. You touched your stomach and swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise. There was a shadow at your bedside. He sat with a book in his lap and flicked the page lazily.

You groaned and he looked up. The balding physician raised his brows and set aside his book. He stood and neared the bed as he looked down at you. You tried to push yourself up and he stopped you with a hand in the air.

“Do not labour yourself,” He advised. “We have tended to your wounds and see little chance of infection, your highness.”

You looked down at your hand, wrapped in thick bandage, and felt along that on your cheek, the cloth wound around your head. You saw it again; the dead maid upon your skirt. Your gown had since been removed and you wore not but the stained shift beneath the pile of quilts.

Your dry lips parted and you coughed. “Please, I think---” You covered your mouth as you fought back vomit. 

“Your highness,” The physician grabbed a pail as you turned to hang your head over the mattress. 

You wretched into the wooden bucket until your entire body ached and there was nothing left within. You laid back heavily and the physician offered you water. He helped you sit up against the pillows as you drank.

“Your wounds are shallow and minimal,” He said as he played with the button on the front of his jacket. “But I did hope to ask you some questions.”

“Questions?” You echoed as water dribbled down your chin and you wiped it away.

“Yes, did you feel sick before… before the incident?” He asked.

“A little, I suppose,” You answered carefully and took another sip. “I always do feel rather poorly when it rains.”

“Mmm,” He nodded as he continued to toy with the brass bauble. “And, forgive me but there is no proper way to ask this, but it should be asked, as your physician; when was your last visit?”

“Visit?” You shook your head confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Your highness,” He pulled his jacket straight. “When did you last have your monthly bleeding?”

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes. You thought but couldn’t remember exactly. How had you lost track? You set aside the glass of water and shrugged. Was it before or after the wedding? It had been a few months, surely there had been one. You raised your brows at him and gulped. Your stomach was ripe to roil again.

“I cannot recall,” You admitted.

“How many? One? Two? Three? Can you not recall how many you’ve missed?” He prodded.

You shook your head and brought your hands up to hold your head. The bandage was rough against your skin. “I’m sorry.”

“I would be required to perform an examination,” He said calmly. “To be sure of your condition.”

“My condition?” You repeated. “I...Now?”

“Ideally as soon as we could but I understand if your stress does preclude you.” He replied.

“No, n-no, I would know at once,” You stuttered. “What did you need to do?”

“It won’t take very long,” He turned and opened the small chest beside his chair. “You only need to lie back and bend your legs, your highness.” He spun back and helped draw the covers away from you. “I promise, I shall be as swift as I can.”

You nodded nervously and did as he said. It was like the examination before your marriage; a little bit of poking around, mostly looking. When he finished, you felt the same mortification. And worse, for you had caused the death of another. You had chosen your life over theirs. How could you ever manage to grow on within?

“Well, your highness,” He sighed. “You are with child, it seems.”

“Do you know… how long?” You asked.

“You’re not showing just yet, at least not obviously, and your sickness, when did that begin?”

“Perhaps a week past, maybe more.”

“A month. Likely more considering you cannot remember your last visit. It would be more apt to say two or three.” He said. “But you are healthy and so the child should be too. I see no cause for concern.”

“Oh, alright,” You nodded. You were numb and yet entirely overwhelmed. You wanted to go back to sleep but also wanted to run away.

“The king is without…”

“Don’t… I think… I should tell him,” You breathed. “Please.”

“Certainly, your highness,” The physician nodded and closed up his chest. “Shall I send him in?”

“Please.” You smiled but it felt more a grimace.

He left you with a bow and you watched him go. He left the door open and you only then realized you weren’t in your usual chamber. Good, you thought. You’d not be able to bear to look upon the place where the maid had died. To see the blood that had no doubt stained the stone and carpet. You shook at the memory.

The king entered before you could sink entirely in your despair. He smiled at you and rushed to the bed. He sat on the edge and took your hand. “My queen. I did worry.” He said in a rush. “I don’t know what came over me, I just… I saw you in danger and it all went… awry.”

You nodded and the tears threatened to spill. You clung to his hand and squeezed. You were shaking again.

“The physician did say you were well,” He said. “And… I see that you are and it does ease the worry that has consumed me.”

“I am, I am,” You assured him. “I… your highness, my king,” You stammered and let out a weak pant. “The physician did examine me and I…” You tried to smile again and your lips quivered. The tears fell and streamed along your nose. “I am with child.”

His eyes rounded and his lips parted. His entire face brightened as it dawned upon him and he smiled. He gripped your hands even tighter and raised them. He kissed them all over, even the bandages, and then leaned over to kiss your lips. When he pulled away, he stared at you, marvelled at you.

“You really are?” He asked.

“A couple months, at least,” You said. 

You felt dizzy. You thought of Rita dead on the floor. Of Bucky in the shadows of the chapel. Of the life you wanted and the life you had. Of that nestled inside of you that did seal your fate. You lowered your head and sniffed.

He took your chin and forced you to look at him. “My love,” He spoke softly, “That is wonderful.”

[geodax]

Whumptober Day 27, Extreme Weather

(warnings- fire, mention of burns) 

He wakes to the smell of smoke, an orange sky, and a crackling that sounds vaguely like a bonfire but is much too loud.

“We have to go!” Cody yells in his ear as he drags Obi-wan to his feet before he’s even fully awake.

Obi-wan scrambles to get his feet beneath him as his brain catches up. They’d only just finished a three day long battle. Obi-wan had been looking forward to twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep to replenish his depleted reserves. It has not been nearly that long.

“Separatists?” Obi-wan asks. Surely, they couldn’t have initiated another attack. This entire sector is firmly within Republic control now.

Cody shakes his head and chucks a helmet into Obi-wan’s hands. The wind picks up and with it comes enough smoke to send Obi-wan into a brief coughing fit before he manages to get the helmet on.

“We’ve got wildfires moving in from the south and west,” Cody says over the comm.

Obi-wan glances in those directions but sees nothing but smoke. The helmet provides a hazy heat vision, but it isn’t of any use. Everything is too distorted by the smoke and the heat air around the fires. “How far out?”

“Less than a mile and moving fast.”

The two of them jog through camp as Cody yells at the men to get up and get moving. Dozens of exhausted men scramble back into armor still stained from the last battle.

“We can’t outrun it,” Obi-wan says.

“Then what do you propose? Our armor can’t take that kind of heat for long and there’s no shelter nearby.”

Obi-wan glances around the grassy field around them. “We have to hunker down. Gather the men. I’ll deal with the grass,” Obi-wan says, ignoring the twinge of doubt inside him. He’s exhausted and worn down, but he must do this. There is no other option.

“Sir?” Cody says.

“I can protect us. Just make sure everyone has their armor on.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Cody says and jogs off.

Obi-wan wipes the ash from his helmet’s faceplate and reaches out into the Force.

The sky is darkening quickly with the smoke. The roar of the fire is getting ever louder. Animals scream in terror as they find they aren’t fast enough to outrun the conflagration. Embers twist through the air like a swarm of deadly fireflies.

Obi-wan closes his eyes and yanks with all his strength.

Hundreds of thousands of blades of grass are torn free from the ground and tossed aside in a wave of green that nearly overwhelms the men caught within it. The wind catches them and pushes them ahead of the fire, away from Obi-wan and the 212th.

His knees buckle, his body overexerted, but strong hands catch him before he can collapse. It’s Cody, he realizes, as the man drags into the center of the denuded land.

His robes are pulled off and armor is quickly attached to his undersuit, protecting him from the falling embers. Armored bodies circle closer, away from the edges of the circle and the flames and heat. “You okay, sir?” Cody asks as Obi-wan gradually regains control of his body.

“I need stims,” Obi-wan says and reaches for Cody’s belt.

“Sir, Helix said any more of those and you could put yourself in a coma.”

“Either I risk it, or we all die of heat.”

Cody winces, then pulls the pack of stims from his belt. Obi-wan pops two of them into his mouth and swallows.

His heart begins to pound. The fire grows louder. Ash and embers fall on them, burying them in superheated debris that scorches their armor. Sweat begins to pour down his skin as the armor struggles to maintain a safe temperature.

The Force erupts from within him, shoving away the ashes and the heat and the smoke. His entire body hums as the Force is channeled through it and builds a shield around them. The flames are kept at bay by the denuded land, but the heat presses inwards, closer, closer, ever closer.

Blood dribbles out of his nose. The roar of the fire grows louder still. Thousands of embers and sparks rain down from the sky, igniting more fires, more destruction.

He collapses.

----

A voice filters through the clouds of Obi-wan’s consciousness before drawing him back to wakefulness. Obi-wan opens his eyes slightly to find Anakin sitting a few feet away, but Anakin isn’t supposed to be near the 212th or this sector. He frowns and tries to sit up, but Anakin pushes him back down.

“Che says you’ve got one of the worst cases of Force exhaustion she’s ever seen,” Anakin says. “Cody had to bring you back to the Temple for treatment.”

Obi-wan hums a questioning note when he finds his voice won’t respond to his commands.

“After you collapsed, apparently there was enough of an opening in the fire for them to get through safely, though there are lots of burn injuries from what I’ve heard. But nothing fatal. They have you to thank for that. Ikt’ansa’s wildfires can be deadly under normal circumstances.”

Obi-wan smiles slightly, then taps on the bed in a poor imitation of the sign for time, but unable to get his exhausted arms to move properly.

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “Obi-wan, you nearly burned yourself out. You’re going to be here for at least a week before your body will even recover. And who knows how long Che will keep you here after that.”

Obi-wan scowls.

“Don’t give me that look. I know you did what you had to, I would have done the same, but stuff like that takes a toll. And besides, if Che keeps you here, I won’t have to worry about coming to your rescue, old man.”

Obi-wan rolls his eyes but allows himself to settle down. Perhaps it would be nice to just rest.

But only for a few days. Then he’ll start planning his escape.

[marveloussupernerd]

It’s Good Luck - Jumin Han

This is the last part (maybe? Idk) of my Jumin wedding series bc all of a sudden I have baby fever and want to write a pregnant series oop. In fact, I had to FORCE myself to write this ceremony. I might write a reception chapter later, who knows. Reminder: this is part of a mini-series but everything can be read and interpreted as one shots if you’re like me and dislike series haha also idk if this even makes sense but I hope you maybe like it?

Summary: they say rain on your wedding day is good luck. Jumin takes that to a new level and proposes you go outside in the rain before you’re due at the reception.

You had returned to your dressing room, watching as the men in the sharp suits carried your flowers and chairs from the tent outside to the building. Why did it have to rain? Sure, they said it was good luck, and you didn’t truly care so long as you were marrying Jumin, but you had looked forward to the outdoor wedding. You had planned for an outdoor wedding, not one inside.

“Don’t worry about it,” your wedding planner comforted you, noticing your mournful expression as you looked at the heavy raindrops running down the window, “We’re going to do everything in our power to bring the outdoors in. Do you want to give it a look-over before we start everything?”

Honestly? It would make you feel better. You nodded, standing up and straightening out your wedding dress. You followed behind her, taking the back way to avoid any guests, and made your way into their indoor venue.

They did a really good job for such a short amount of time. The wall of flowers was up behind the altar, large flower arrangements were set by each row of seats, and gigantic mounds of flowers lined each side of the aisle. It was pretty. Yes, outside would have been ideal, but whatever. This was lovely as well!

“Is it to your liking?” The wedding planner asked, nervously toying with her watch.

You nodded. “It’s very nice. Would it be possible, maybe, to get a different color table cover for the altar? The cream worked well for the outdoors but now it’s a little too... casual.” You had learned a thing or two from planning the RFA parties after all.

“Would you prefer white then?”

“How about an antique white? You cringed internally; you sounded so uptight. But you knew antique white would look best with the color tones of the room. “Oh! If you don’t have it just normal white will do as well.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it set up right now. Any other changes you’d like to make?”

“Is there any way to dim the lights? They’re a little bright... it’s giving me a hospital feel.” You added awkwardly. Your wedding planner walked over to a panel and immediately dimmed the lights. “Perfect. It’s lovely. Thank you for doing all this,” you turned to her, smiling.

“If that’s all you need, I’ll get somebody to switch out the cloth and then we can start seating guests,” she offered. You smiled and nodded.

When you arrived at your room you were greeted with even more surprises: this time there was a masseuse, table set up and everything. “Hi, are you MC? Mr. Han called for me,” she greeted, holding out a hand for you to shake, which you took.

“Oh! What a nice surprise.”

“Yes, he said it was quite urgent. I understand this all must be pretty stressful. My wedding got rained out too, but the good thing is my husband and I have been married for over thirty years now.” The lady seemed very warm; her presence was comforting. You allowed yourself to sit down on the edge of her table.

“I’m not sure how much time we have, but would you mind doing my shoulders and back? I’ve got a lot of tension in there from everything going on.” You still felt awkward being accomadated so well, but it was something you had to get used to, especially because you were marrying Jumin.

“Of course,” you felt her push your veil to the side, fingers gently working around your upper back. “You weren’t kidding: you are tense. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

You let out a laugh. “That tradition that the groom can’t see the bride on the wedding day. I’ve been sleeping next to my fiancée for months now. It was hard not to, and the pre-wedding jitters didn’t help.”

“Well,” she commented, her hands hitting a knot by your shoulders and gently trying to work it out. “I can tell it’ll all be worth it. He seems like a very nice man, and he definitely cares about you.”

“Yes, I’m not sure how many other brides get masseuses in minutes before their wedding,” you joked, a fond smile on your face. A knock at the door. The wedding planner peeked in. “You’ve got about five minutes until it’s go time.”

You thanked the lady and went to take your spot, waiting for your entrance. As you heard the bridal march start playing, you anxiously stepped into the room, heavy bouquet in hand. The antique white looked quite nice, you thought to yourself. It was a good choice. In front of the tablecloth though.

How could he possibly be even more handsome than usual? Maybe it was the light gray suit, a stark contrast to his typical black attire. Maybe it was the glisten in his eyes as they watered with tears. Maybe it was the smile that he couldn’t hide- no, he didn’t want to hide. Walking to him felt like running a marathon; it took forever.

Finally your hands were in his. Him mouthing how beautiful you looked, wiping away a stray tear that leaked down his cheek. You didn’t realize you had such a death grip on his hands until he started gently running his thumb over your hands, easing the tension.

“You and me only, remember?” He whispered softly. You wanted to hug him. No, that would be weird. The priest was quite literally in the middle of his speech. You but your lip and looked down at your shoes.

A hand on your cheek brought your attention up. Was this allowed? Why did you never go through this wedding etiquette?

The words spoken were a blur. Jumin recited his vows perfectly, not straying from the traditional vows. The two of you had agreed that you would rather share those thoughts, those emotions, in private. You stumbled over the words when it was your turn. For richer or for poorer? Not only was the statement comical considering the Hans’ wealth, but why was it so hard to say? Jumin’s lips quirked into a smile upon hearing you fumble, and it made you feel better to see him smile like that.

Finally, finally the moment had come. “You may now kiss the bride.” Swept up in the moment, Jumin pulled you close in one swift motion for a kiss. You had agreed to keep it chaste and sweet, but he hadn’t seemed to remember that part of it!!!!! You pulled away before it got too PG-13, planting a kiss on his cheek and promising him more later.

“How soon is later?” He asked, pouting for what was likely one of the first times in his life. “I just want to embrace my wife. We still have a reception after this?” He groaned.

“You’re so needy today Honey,” you teased, the two of you sharing your own moment at the front of the room while the guests filed out.

“We don’t have to do anything. It’s just... I had trouble sleeping last night without you. You can’t blame a man for wanting to hold his wife in his arms and never let go.” He flushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

The guests had finally filed out and it was your turn to leave, greeting them at the exit. “I’ve noticed you saying wife a lot,” you teased, holding his hand tight, your cathedral-length veil wrapped around his free arm so that you wouldn’t trip or get caught up by it.

“Well, I like it.” It was such a simple statement, but it made your heart race. The two of you finished thanking your guests, and it was time for the cocktail hour to start. You and Jumin had planned about ten minutes together without a photographer or anything just so you could take in the events of the day and reflect together. You had been looking forward to it for hours.

“You know all those things you vowed to me?” You asked, staring out the window as he helped you remove your veil. The rain hadn’t slowed; it was wise of you to move it inside.

“Sickness and health, better or worse, rich or poor, those things?” He listed them off as if they were so simple. It made you laugh.

“How about in grace and in stupidity?”

He plopped your veil down on a bench. “What? My love you’re not stu-“

“You wanna go out into the rain with me? It’ll be fun... and we have about eight minutes after to dry off before pictures,” you proposed. It was an AWFUL idea. It was pouring. You had your hair and makeup done. This dress was designer.

“Truly?” He asked, looking skeptically.

“Yeah in retrospect it’s a bad idea. I don’t know, I thought it was good luck or something.”

Out of nowhere, he swept you into his arms, barreling towards the exit to the building. “Jumin!” You shrieked. “I take it back! I said it was a bad idea!”

“But it’s good luck,” he shouted as he swung open the door, trying to be heard over the rain. He looked cautiously at the puddles forming on the sidewalks, then took a deep breath. “In grace and in stupidity?”

“Of course, my husband.”

It was out of a movie. The dramatic kiss in the rain. All the passion Jumin had wanted to put into your kiss when you were standing in front of all your family and friends. The rain dribbling down your back. It made you squeal. He couldn’t stop laughing. He held his hand above your head, attempting to shield your makeup from the rain. It didn’t help.

What felt like eons later, he carried you back inside, setting you on a bench. He tried to keep a serious face, but burst out laughing. You had never heard him laugh so hard.

“Honey? Why are you laughing? Is it my makeup? Jumin!” Nothing could get his attention.

“We may need more than just eight minutes to dry off,” he chuckled, pushing back soaked strands of hair that were hanging on his face. “I’ll call Assistant Kang and let her know.”

“Was it worth it though?” You asked, trying to wipe your face (and failing).

“Oh absolutely,” he pulled you close to him. “I feel luckier already.”

[lunafaeris-archive]

I want the k + mada & luna 8’)

but do you really want the k?

8: Kiss in the Rain

          “ Madara? Madara! Answer me!! ” Her voice cried out, hoarse from calling out his name and searching high and low for him throughout the ravaged scars of the battlefield, but her words didn’t travel far amidst the ongoing monsoon. She didn’t know what had happened, only just having re-discovered his trail after they had been separated by a massive rock slide cleaving through the side of the mountain. She thankfully caught wind of his scent before the rains began to pour, but it seemed she had been too late to stop him from rampaging against a battalion of warring samurai in full armored garb. Wading through the grassy field, she could see evidence of where his claws had gouged out the earth, upturning waves of defenseless foot soldiers and ox-driven carts, until in his brutal outrage no one had been spared from his wrath. Not one from their regiment was left alive, but she knew that she wouldn’t find him here among a sea of dead bodies, all mutilated beyond recognition... something must have set him off to go berserk like this, but what? Nearing the edge of the field, she caught a glimpse of a fresh set of tracks leading towards the base of the mountain. Tracks that were far too large and widespread to be from any native animal species with talons as long as her fingers.

          Had he... had he lost himself? Had he turned? Gone mad?

          She didn’t have time to stand around and fret about whether or not he was alright; if these tracks did in fact belong to him, then her only option was to follow them before the rains swept them away. Hastily trudging through the underbrush and past a sparsely laden grove of trees, she finally spotted something moving strangely in the distance, laying low to the ground as it had secluded itself from the rain underneath the branches of a maple tree. The smell of blood from those fallen samurai clung heavily to it like a tumultuous cloud... in that moment, she knew there was no denying it. That thing, that monster cowering from the wet and the cold was Madara. They were one and the same.

          In his rage, he had grown to his full height as a youkai, towering over her with the oily black of his mane having transformed into a mass of feathers. If it wasn’t for his tattered dark olive hakama or the feral red of his eyes staring back at her, or rather staring through her, then she wouldn’t have dared believe it herself. He seemed confused and in a state of shock, shivering like a rat huddled into a corner, unable to comprehensively speak and growling from the back of his throat as she approached. It was almost as if he didn’t recognize her for who she was... but whatever the risk, whatever the danger involved, she knew that she had to try to bring him back to his senses, cautiously laying her rifle down on the ground beside her before closing the distance between them, taking it one step at a time so as not to agitate him or have him spiral further.

          “ Can you hear me? Can you... understand me? I promise I’m not here to hurt you. ” She remained visibly calm on the outside, her eyes leveling with his as she was determined to see him back to his former self. She did everything within her power to make it appear that she wasn’t a threat to him, her arms spread wide as if she was welcoming him into her embrace, but something inside him suddenly snapped as he lunged straight for her in a frenzy, raking his sharp talons through the sleeves of her haori as he held her in place and sank his teeth into the cusp of her shoulder.

          “ --!! ” Her boots slid through the mud as he pushed her back, but even after enduring the monstrous force of his bite, she steeled herself in both mind and body, refusing to let the pain get the better of her as she grit her teeth, morosely lowering her head without uttering a sound. Warm blood seeped through the wound, staining her clothes a dark shade of red, but still she was adamant to bring him back to the light, back to the way he was as her trembling hands found a home in his hair, stroking his neck and the back of his head in a last attempt to soothe the beast that had surfaced.

          “ ... It’s me, you miserable old fool. I’m not going anywhere. ” She breathed, the strain of her voice little more than a whisper as she could feel his teeth give way, unhinging his jaw as he released her. He tentatively raised his head, his mouth marred with her blood, though there was a flicker of realization that had sprung to life in his eyes, wavering between the edge of madness and sanity. Despite the incredible pain she was in, despite everything he had done, she stayed. She smiled even, weak with fatigue as she gently cupped his cheek and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Sweet and tender, ignoring the rain and the thunder cascading all around them with the taste of her own blood dribbling down from his lips.

@asaraltu

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Just leave it up to you

Summary: McVries ignored the question. “You can forget the heels though. My feet wouldn’t look so hot in those strappy’s being that all that’s left of 'em is blistered skin with red goo in the middle like a donut.” He clicked his tongue and Ray found a bit of anger well up from that ‘bee-sting’ again. “The point here, Garraty, is...” What was either a clap of thunder or a gunshot rang out (honestly who could tell the difference at his point?)

Ships: Gavries 

Word Count: 3,789

Not until some time after the incident with Jan & his mother did Peter McVries attempt another conversation with Garraty. But when the sky bled from blue to black, the boy had drifted his way back to Ray’s side. Nights on the walk were lonely & scary, it did one well to have a buddy. And Ray didn’t prefer anyone above McVries. 

“I’m jealous, Ray.” Pete--McVries slanted his grin to the right as he spoke, looking like a boy trapped inside an oil painted night sky. His eyes seemed gravely distant, glazed over & being hung out to dry. The promise Abraham mentioned burned deep in Ray like an internal bee-sting. ‘Number 61 coming up the road is lookin’ about ready to pop, wouldn’t you say?’

Garraty swallowed a thick ball of mucus. “Of what?” He whispered with hesitation. No one was all that close to them but something about what was coming seemed personal. 

“Jan.” A guttural sort of chuckle broke up his throat. 

That answer shocked Garraty some...maybe a lot. McVries hadn’t ever seemed interested in talk of Jan let alone...the girl herself. “Well, I’m sure a lot of guys here would’ve loved to grab onto a chick like her-”

McVries shook his head, the hair which wasn’t plastered down by sweat flayed out and sprinkled. “You’ve misunderstood me, my dear.” Turning then, his eyes were fully alive again. They once more reflected the hot inside Pete’s internal organs like a Jack-O-Lantern. “I wish I was your girl back home, Ray.” The cynical joke was hard to find under the tender voice but Garraty was almost sure that it had to be there. 

“Don’t know if you’d look as good in a skirt, Pete.” He chuckled, unwavering but nervous at the same time. 

“Oh, I would.” Pete shook a finger under his chin, smirking proudly. “These legs love to tease, Ray-Baby.”

Garraty blushed hard. “Why do you say shit like that?”

McVries ignored the question. “You can forget the heels though. My feet wouldn’t look so hot in those strappy’s being that all that’s left of 'em is blistered skin with red goo in the middle like a donut.” He clicked his tongue and Ray found a bit of anger well up from that ‘bee-sting’ again. “The point here, Garraty, is...” What was either a clap of thunder or a gunshot rang out (honestly who could tell the difference at his point?)

“If it wasn’t for you, Garraty, I’d want to die a whole lot more than how badly I actually want to live right now.” Earnest & hoarse emotion sang in his voice. So much it began to frighten Ray to a shocked silence. 

“You could win this damn thing. Though, I’m still a bit of victim to cynicism for thinking Stebbins might just run us all down...Ray, you have a real chance.” Pete looked like he might just stop to shake him by the shoulders which turned Ray’s stomach. “If I was your girl back home...”

Garraty waited for the big joke from the cynically insane. Something like ‘Then I could jerk you off’ because it would validate everything McVries had said was bullshit. All of it. That would be ok...Ray might be able to live with that. 

“Then you could come home and hold me when this hell was over.” 

That....That was what he couldn’t live with. Thoughts of Jimmy Owens danced through his panicked mind. “Pete, are you ok?” A damn insult of a question. 

Pete’s eyes blazed with anger. “What? I express an attraction to a guy so that must mean the walk is starting to get to me?” He challenged but gave no time for argument. “Priscilla and I had a threesome once.” Was added onto the end of his statement but not to brag...

Ray didn’t really know what it was for. That sticky-dryness began to coat the pink of his throat again. A hot blush crept over his ‘innocent’ face but something like anger beat hard in his chest. “What did he look like?” It was the dumbest question to possibly ask but it’s what he vomited out. Even Pete looked a little dumbfounded. 

He took in some air. “A bit like Stebbins.” He tilted his chin to the blonde, much closer than he’d been at the beginning to their conversation. “If I’m being honest.” He shrugged, keeping a neutral expression and pace. “The point is that I found them both attractive, Ray.” 

“Who? The guy and Stebbins?” 

Pete laughed again, not harshly but with amusement. “The guy and Pris, dear-one.” He melted with some exaggeration. “You though...” He looked Ray up and down. “You, I could eat with a spoon.” 

“Could you be serious for once?” 

McVries pulled away, looking almost insulted. “I’m not asking you to confess something back to me.” His voice hitched. “You got a girl back home, I know that. Just meeting you and being your friend’s been enough for me.” He closed his eyes like a sharp pain had cut through him. “So if you’re looking for the punchline, there isn’t one. This ain’t a joke.” Pete smiled, miserable & soft, shoved his hands into his pockets and left. 

Ray was the most confused he’d ever been in his entire life. 

Stebbins quickened his pace to join his side with something like joyful vigor. He very well could’ve started skipping. He hated the boy for it. “The masochism continues. McVries claims his love before succumbing to his suicidal ideations.” His laugh was manic yet calm. 

“Fuck off.” Ray growled with anger yet barely paid him any mind. His eyes stayed focused on the back of McVries. 

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stebbins had been walking in pace with Ray ever since Abraham had gotten his ticket from Scramm’s contagious cold. Garraty missed him. Five more boys had lost their lives & the weirdo kept busy.

“Another one down.” Stebbins whistled casually, talking up at Ray like they were the best of friends. It annoyed him to no end but at least it was better than silence. That was until he glanced at Garraty with an eager-push. “How’s the bittersweet love story, huh?” 

Frustration pumped into his body as it so often did when interacting with the headache of a person. But a part of his head drowned in the thoughts of actually missing the boy when the time came to win or die. Ray silently hoped for death before having to ever witness McVries’s come to pass. He looked at the sad remains of his feet. “What do I do Stebbins?”

The blonde’s stare grew cold like an old dinner, astonished and nothing short of it. Ray guessed Stebbins wasn’t expecting such a show of vulnerability now from him now. In all honesty, he’d shocked himself with that one too. Boiling tears attempted to pour down his cheeks as he stared ahead at Baker and McVries. Poor, poor Baker covered in his ‘rain’ being accompanied by a haunted friendly escort. For a maddening moment, Raymond Garraty felt the flood of ‘rain’ break from his nose & waterfall down his clothes, warm & wet. 

He panicked, organs twisting deep in his gut as he gasped for a breath that didn't gurgle. 

Stebbins cold hand on his shoulder woke him up from his bloody hallucinations. "Hey, what are you doing old boy?" 

Ray spit up plain clear mucus (no blood) onto the road and coughed into his fist. McVries had turned to watch in subtle alarm. He walked backwards, still next to Baker, with adoring eyes for the boy with spit running down his chin. 

Stebbins couldn't help but roll his eyes fondly at the idiots until Ray dribbled the mucus onto his shoes. He picked up his toes and frowned. "Aim with the eye, shoot with the mind, kill with the heart.” 

"-What?" Ray wiped his sleeve against his lips. 

Stebbins shrugged, pursed his lips and walked off towards the others. 

:

:

:

:

:

Garraty pleaded for more time with Art Baker but that didn’t give him shit. Sobs painfully ricocheted through his body but ultimately made no change in his pace which was difficult but the art was masterful now...upsettingly. Turns out a person got good at shit like that if faced with enough practice time. 

‘Lead-lined’

Ray nearly vomited for the millionth time. “Walk a little longer, Art.” 

A glimmering sheet of tears filled Art’s eyes like a final curtain. “No--I can’t.” He shook his head, covered in rusty ‘rain’. He spoke more unrehearsed lines which broke whatever the hell was left of Ray’s heart. 

McVries found his way back to him though. That was something at the very least. The dark haired boy came upon Ray with enough leg-room in the hell-hole hint contract to press a small kiss onto Garraty’s temple. He received a warning for slowing pace but didn’t seem too concerned. 

The heat from his mouth alone caused a shutter through Ray’s body. 

:

:

:

:

:

“Another time, another place.” Stebbins repeated Art Baker’s final words without even a hint of emotion. Pete & Ray intended to ignore the rabbit but the kid made it difficult. He glanced at the only other boys left in the walk, something awakening inside him. Garraty habitually darted closer to McVries. 

While Stebbins kept on mumbling to himself; words that Garraty didn’t completely understand, Pete started drifting towards the crowd. The hand Ray wasn’t even aware was grabbing his, started to fall from the grip. Skin sliding against skin as it dropped.

“Pete!” 

Helplessly he grabbed whatever he could reach and yanked him back straight. He expected Stebbins to protest--to let him alone--but the kid was still isolated in his own world. “Pete, no!”

McVries opened his eyes, squinted like an old cowboy and smiled. “No, Ray. It’s time to sit.” Horror struck Garraty so badly that it nearly knocked him onto the road first. 

He did what only he could. He blubbered. “Pete--please, walk a little longer. Please, please-” Hopelessly he grabbed onto his boy. The boy who just wanted to be held by Garraty was getting a twisted sense of his wish now. “Please, Pete. I-...I love you.” He whimpered.

McVries broke into the most delicately beautiful smile that Ray had ever seen in his life. 

“He’s right. Time to sit, Garraty.” Stebbins finally woke. Ray turned with venom but found the kid was standing lone within something gentle & true; no gross selfishness marked in his tone. He lost interest in staring at Ray and spoke into the air past the soldiers. “We are ka-tet. We are one from many...” He mumbled. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Garraty turned back to McVries, scarred and beautiful but looking ready to die. “Honestly, shut the fuck up for once, Stebbins!” 

Pete giggled at that, still walking but wilting towards the ground all the same. Stebbins ignored Garraty and spoke to their only friend left. “McVries can you wait ten more seconds?” 

Pete blinked. But his loud-mouth remained shut, feet still pounding against the road. Stebbins took that to mean yes and aligned his eyes with Garraty’s again. “I’m going to win this.” He spoke, winningly but added. “So are you two fucking assholes.” a smirk then he began to count-down quietly. 

The crowd hushed but still couldn’t manage to hear Stebbins. The soldiers drew closer but there wasn’t much to do in the case of three boys still continuing to walk in pace. 

At the number 6...Ray finally clicked on to the meaning & couldn’t believe what was happening. Never once had the idea crossed his mind and hell, maybe Stebbins was pulling a fast one on them but he found that it did not matter if he could die with Pete. This gave him an out. 

“3...2...1″

Three boys from different states & in different states of mind, dropped like falling boulders. Ass first onto the road at the exact same time. In a perfect semicircle with their backs up against each other, they let out horrendous sighs of pain-relief. 

For a long time, the only sound was their low breathing & hesitant stomping of soldier boots, up and down the road. Men so unsure of what to do that it ignited terror through Ray’s gut but he kept his eyes closed. His head leaned against Stebbins & McVries’s.

Two seconds before The Major himself came upon the group...one of many...Ray supposed, Stebbins spoke up again. “A long road, like a tall Tower, must be most be conquered one step at a time...” He took in air like a balloon. “Forgot where I heard that, Ray but we got to the end of the road--to the top of the Tower--” 

McVries hummed. 

“I knew it was time for the wheel to run Peter over. But I figured the plan. Ka is a wheel but I am a driver...Ha!” He wasn’t making a lick of sense & Garraty would’ve gladly reminded him of the other Musketeers he let die before his little ‘revelation’ but...

According to The Major, they had to decide which two of them would be sacrificing themselves. ‘Ha! What a laugh, huh?’

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They would not be celebrated. 

They were to quietly be paid off & to have their lives spared. 

It was to never happen again. 

Rules would be re-evaluated for the next go of The Long Walk.

The boys were to be treated in hospital for what was needed and no more. Garraty--Maine’s own--laid in bed hoping that Art Baker got his wish. That it wasn’t dark & that he could remember them. Too he hoped for his friend not to be mad. Their plan could’ve worked for him...though Ray excepted that Baker would’ve had to have been saved before the rainfall of blood. 

He thought that all over in the morning just before Jan--sweet & kind came to visit him for the very first time. 

“You pulled quite the stunt.” She spoke two seconds after the nurse left the room, wasting no time. Her smile was full of love that Garraty hated being on the receiving end of for the first time. 

“Stebbins did.” He clicked his tongue, grabbing her soft hand. 

“Which one was he?” 

Garraty bit into his cheek. “The blonde. Purple pants.” 

Jan nodded, looking to the TV in the corner of the room with quiet debates going on in her mind. “He’s the one with no visitors.” Turning back, her expression lost all joy. “Heard some rumors he’d gone manic.” 

Not surprising. Garraty frowned. “Hope that isn’t true. He was basically already in manicville at the start” He shrugged. He tried to think of anyone but Pete but it was just about the hardest shit to do--besides the damn walk itself. 

He blinked up at his girlfriend still sitting on the edge of the white-sheeted bed with a matching skin-tone. “The other boy’s parents & little sister have come today.” 

It was as if she knew & she most likely did. “Talked about how happy they were in the elevator up. The staff accompanying us--I think he was a male nurse--” She looked off in thought before deciding it mattered none & came back down on him with despair. “He said they ought to be ashamed. Raised a cheater, he said. Nobody likes a ‘hero’ who does only to serve himself.” Her hair fell against her chin. “97 sons--their mother’s boys--lost their lives thinking only one boy got to win. Not three queers who decided they were bigger than The Major.” 

“And what do you think, Jan?” He muttered. The girl rolled her eyes. 

“I’d be agreeing if I thought the same, wouldn’t I?” She let one tear loose. “Screw The Major.” She wiped down her cheeks and Ray vibrated from pure astonishment. “It wasn’t in the rules. And three boys were saved. They were given second chances.” 

That idea terrified Ray. He was given a second chance curtesy of Stebbins & how in the Hell could he make-up for the 97 lives gone?

“If this is the part where you break up with my because you’ve grown past me or-or grown tired of me, please just do it quickly.” More tears threatened to spill but she kept those ones in. 

Ray felt sick to his stomach. “If it helps, it’s neither of those things.” 

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nurse Barnes was a bitch. 

Garraty found that out rather quickly considering she had he own opinion on the Long Walk end results. ‘But it barely effected her work, great news!!’ She just did everything expected of her extremely aggressively like petulant child. 

Ray allowed her to escort him to Pete’s room and did his best to ignore her grimaces, annoyed sighs & mutterings. It could not dampen his great sense of relief and joy to see the person he turned out to love more than anyone else in the world. 

When Barnes turned the door-handle, Ray nearly fell to the floor in a heap of nervous sweat. “Give us privacy, please.” He would’ve mumbled the request, usual of him but a new fire burned inside him since he awoke in the hospital. Barnes slammed the door shut after him. No words. 

Pete McVries was getting up from his bed with caution for feet that still ached with pain but were getting better. He’d been on Garraty’s mind like nobody had ever been in all his life & he was the most beautiful sight in the world. 

“I’ve been focusing on getting my feet stable for weeks now.” Ray spoke slowly, eyes never leaving Pete. 

“Way to show off, Ray.” He managed a laugh. 

“Meaning, I can hold you now if you want, Pete.” He opened his arms wide. “That is, if you’d still have me?” 

McVries got up like the wind, almost as if his feet weren’t bloody and basically useless just some weeks ago. Ray assumed Pete was betting a lot on his recovery because he wasted no time jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. 

Unfortunately Garraty wasn’t quite there yet & the cute moment lasted just five seconds before they collapsed together onto the clean white floor. Their laughter blended together effortlessly in sweet harmony. Pete climbed atop Ray slowly, bumping their thighs together in the process. 

It killed most every calm nerve in Ray’s body staring up at the man he’d fallen in love with. His dark hair waved in contrast to the stark white of the ceiling as he drew closer & closer...noses touching. 

“I thought Priscilla was my great love...” he whispered, breath against Ray’s lips. “But Ray, you changed my life. I don’t want to die anymore. Every night, I kept walking just so I could see your face in the sunlight one more time.” He scrunched up his face in the cutest way. 

“Sappy shit sounds so cute coming out of your mouth.” Ray giggled, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek along the scar. 

Pete pulled back, sitting now on Garraty’s lap. Ray brought himself to a seated position. “What about Jan?” his voice was small and almost accusatory but Ray could hardly blame him. 

“I broke it off with Jan.” 

Pete tried to hide his grin, seemingly sick of letting all his emotions pour out like a broken faucet. But Ray caught a gorgeous glimpse. “I love you, Pete.” He added, brushing his hand against the boy’s hair once more. 

“I love you too.” 

:

:

:

:

:

“Can you accept the thank you or not? I’m never giving you another one.” McVries huffed, staring down at Stebbins who was merely sitting in his bed and flipping through a paperback. Garraty was sitting at the edge of the bed, knitting him a ‘Thank you’ scarf because it helped with his anxiety. Plus, he figured the blonde wasn’t much one for facing his own rewards. He might just take a lame scarf for it though if it meant no talking about his generosity. 

He looked up. “I’ll accept your compliment of a good plan because I’m a fucking genius for it.” He smiled, crooked yet nice. “But no, I won’t accept a thank you for saving your asses. I couldn’t have been in my right mind for that one.” He chuckled. 

Pete groaned. “Great. Good.” His eyes rolled as he gently scooched Ray over to sit next to him on the bed at Stebbins feet. Pete watched his boy knit with adoration that almost sickened Stebbins. “You gonna let him talk to us like that, Ray?” He poked him. 

Garraty held up what he had of the scarf so far and smirked when Stebbins just nodded. “Do you remember what you said?”

Stebbins looked off towards the wall and shrugged. 

Ray ignored his clear indication that he was done talking about it. “You called us a Ka-tet? What did you mean by that?” 

                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter McVries vowed to keep Ray safe & happy. 

Once out of the hospital & freshly encouraged to keep as far from the public as possible, he moved his boy into his boyhood home until they could get on their own feet. It was strange but the McVries family was warm and welcoming. Garraty enjoyed this stage in his life immensely. 

After that, came a cabin-style home nestled deep in Boulder, Colorado. Far from Maine but Ray’s mother was welcome to visit all she wanted, same with Pete’s parents and wonderful little sister--who had never looked so happy before as she did that first day in the hospital. Her big brother was alive and could still hug her.  

Stebbins had gone off on his own but was likely to pop by for visits, Garraty was almost sure of it. McVries felt he owed the strange boy something for what he’d done no matter how many times he rejected the idea. So he hoped to see him again. But for now...

Pete’s ebony hair dripped water down in a slinky path against his dewy skin, tired droplets paused and waited as flybys sped down to collide against them. Smoke breezed from Pete’s mouth and settled into the air. He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed with satisfaction as the heat in his chest returned. 

He brought his legs down to stretch as his back straightened, making his body a true reflection of his current state. Tiny pins and needles poked from under the bottoms of his feet, He wiggled his toes. But after a few seconds, he let them be. Sometimes it was a little euphoric to feel that little vibration of sleeping limbs. 

Ray carefully came into the bedroom looking tired from a long day of his new little life & slipped the cigarette from Pete’s fingers, taking his own drag. He coughed as he handed it back. "Cute.” McVries mumbled happily. 

Ray hummed, neck hot from a lingering blush and life truly felt amazing. 

[halfgclden]

THE PITS(TOP)

It was at a rest stop on the way out of Billings, Montana, that they got the news. It was before that, actually, but Jade was good about not checking her notifications on the road. 

“Fuck!” Jade yelled and slammed the car door to have something to direct her anger towards, and she resisted the urge to kick the tire afterwards. “Do they even know how long that took us to put together? We can just repost it. What are they gonna do?” 

It had taken less than twelve hours for their major story on a minor celebrity to get posted, cause a big stir, and get taken down. Of course Jade knew this was going to be a likely outcome, but it didn’t mean that she was any less upset about it.

Just as riled up as Jade but stiff as hell from the drive, Joel slowly got out of the car and cracked his back. Then his neck. Then his knuckles. "I can't fucking believe it. This is censorship! Fuck. We have it on a flash drive. They can't do anything. What are they gonna do? Take it down again? They can't do anything." Thunder rumbled as Joel kicked a bottle cap on the ground, a scowl on his typically cheerful face. 

It was bullshit. 

They (mostly Jade) had spent hours researching their facts and putting the most recent episode together. It had been so good. One of their best, for sure. And yet— poof. In an instant, gone. 

Joel watched his twin pace angrily around the parking lot for a moment, then looked up at the gray sky. "What! The! Fuck!" He yelled, taking big breaths in between each word. A family getting into their car a few feet away turned to look at him, disapproval on their face as the mother covered her child's ears. Joel shrugged and turned back to look at Jade, "We knew it could happen but...that was handled in an ungodly amount of time, right? Fuckin' ridiculous."

Jade handled the gas pump with much more force than necessary, then moved so that she could slump against the car. She knew they had backups for this exact reason, but the censorship was expected and unwelcome. Why must people exist with wool over their eyes? Yes, maybe they had insider knowledge on this topic, but that didn't mean that their presentation was any less real and important for the public. 

As if to match their mood, the sky opened up above the twins and rain began to pour. 

"Ungodly my ass," Jade grumbled, and, on cue, there was a crack as the puddle forming on the ground near them shimmered and projected an image of a brightly-dressed bespeckled woman with a stern look on her face. 

"You two..." The woman sighed and shook her head as she pushed back a tangle of curls and piled it all into a messy bun atop her head. "I swear, whenever anything happens, I need only look to you or your siblings." She looked as disheveled as a goddess could, which meant that she still had more grace than an etiquette instructor. "Care to explain what that little stunt was?"

Nothing surprised Joel anymore. Not the speed at which their episode had been taken down. Not the rain that was spattering onto the pavement around them. And amazingly, not the woman who appeared out of thin air before them. "Should have known," he mumbled, loud enough for only Jade to hear. 

Fixing a smile on his face, Joel waved innocently to the colorful apparition. "Hi Auntie." He did his best to look like he hadn't done a thing , cutting a look to Jade while the goddess sighed. "What stunt? We were just doing a little research. No harm in that, right?"

The burning look that the goddess shot Joel suddenly made her feel a lot more menacing than her boho tie dye style. "A little research," she pronounced each word with special emphasis, as if she was holding back. "You exposed a place of safety and sanctity. You two have gone too far with these antics." 

Jade snorted. "Exposed," she repeated with a roll of her eyes. "Every monster and myth on earth already knows where that camp is. So why are you pressed about mortals finding out about y'all? Is it some way to keep them quelled?" She was tempted to start recording on her phone, and it looked as though the rainbow goddess was reciting a mantra under her breath. 

"You two... if this is a cry for attention, you will soon learn that you may be asking for too much. Attention is almost never a good thing to have on you, not with the forces you're playing with." 

Jade gave another exaggerated eye roll at the prophetic tone Iris was taking, then stuck her tongue out at Joel.

Somehow, Joel managed to keep the easy smile on his face, despite the heat from Iris' glare. He leaned back, resting against the trunk of the car. It wasn't every day that you got chewed out by a goddess but...it also wasn't the first time. Joel wondered how long the gods would find them amusing. He swallowed hard, not letting his thoughts go any further down that path. 

As if reading his twin's mind, Joel carefully slid his phone out of his pocket, intending to record the situation they'd found themselves in. The goddess launched into what felt like a pre-prepared speech, talking about the grandiose forces at hand and Joel tried to hide his smile. He caught the look Jade was giving and made a face in return. 

Looking back to Iris, he shrugged. "It's not a cry for attention. We're hardly the first to make a big deal about the strange stuff going on out there. I mean, come on, Auntie— did you even listen to it before you took it down? Long Island was home to some buckwild government experiments back in the day. How do you explain that?" He cut his hand through the air. "There are plenty of people like us that live in the public eye. Shouldn't y'alls sanctuary hold up against anything these 'forces' might throw at it?"

Jade gave a small quirk of her eyebrow towards her brother, but otherwise kept her expression neutral. "We're just saying that maybe it's a time where people start to open their eyes. People who don't want to see past the mist, they won't bother, but why not make it easier for those who could have a foot in both worlds? Mortals have always been a part of myth." Not to mention the fact that the gods may or may not have their fingers in some more suspicious business. Why were they located at the Empire State Building? What kind of power did they have over the political structure of the United States? Did Zeus make money off the Iraq war? 

Iris seemed to be less impressed with each sentence that came from the twins, and her patience was running thin. She looked between both of them before she flicked her hand at Joel's phone, instantly draining the battery. Before he could give her any grief about it, she held up the same hand. "You're lucky I didn't crumble that to dust, dear boy. You two are playing with fire. That is not a warning, that is a guarantee. I suggest you tuck your tails between your legs and not pull any stunts like that again. Apologize and thank those above you for vouching for you."

Chiming in, Joel added, "Yeah! The mythical and mortal worlds have been entwined for centuries! Seems only fair that people who want to know should be able to see what's really around them. And...without mortals, the gods wouldn't have so many heroes to do their bidding." It was a risky point to make, but it was true. Every myth he'd ever read proved it. Still, Joel got the feeling that the gods would not appreciate being called out like that. 

He meant to say more but in that moment, the jig was up. Iris had spotted his not-so-stealthy recording and Joel grimaced. He stood up a little straighter as she delivered her warning, pocketing his now-dead phone. Hopefully the little snippet he'd recorded would still he there when it powered up again but that seemed unlikely. Being told to apologize and give thanks didn't sit right with Joel, so he stood quietly, looking away from Iris to meet Jade's eyes. A raise of his eyebrows silently communicated 'what do you think?' and, at the same time, 'can you believe this is our life right now?'

The rain was picking up, as was the wind, and though Iris seemed entirely unbothered by it, Jade was wondering if she was going to have to change her clothes before driving to a motel for the evening. 

"Do you know what the gods bidding is?" Iris asked Joel, though it was clear that she didn't care for it to be answered. "Of course you don't. Or if you do, you clearly show that you do not understand. The gods are there to keep order. To keep it so that fate is handled in a way that does the least amount of harm. Do you know what happens if you ignore a prophecy, or try to deny it? You've read enough myth to know, haven't you? You can not deny prophecy, it will always come true." 

Jade's cheeks burned despite the cold rain on them, but she held her tongue, and shot Joel a response. 'Ugh, yeah, what else would it be' followed by 'we should probably leave it for now, though.’ She raked her teeth over her lower lip, realizing that Iris was expecting a reply, and maybe the apology she'd already mentioned. "Of course," her tone betrayed her, coming out as a grumble, and she cleared her throat. "I thought this was like Area 51. People even showed up there and nothing happened. Doubt anything is going to come out of this." She kept an eye on Iris, watching for any sort of recognition of the Area 51 incident, since Jade was positive the gods had something under wraps there. Then, she reluctantly added, in a much smoother tone, "We're sorry that it got so big. I mean, subscribers are probably gonna be great, if you let us keep them so we can afford dinner..." 

Iris rolled her eyes, but her stony expression seemed to be cracking, as though she'd delivered the message she was supposed to already. Even the rain seemed to be dying down. 

"—And thank you, of course, for vouching for us," Jade added, figuring that it was what the goddess had hinted at earlier and was now waiting for.

Rain dribbled down his glasses and Joel wished he'd thought of making tiny windshield wipers for them. There was always next time. He slowly took them off his face, using the hem of his shirt to dry them off before looking back at Iris. It would be so easy to continue to argue, to direct his frustration into something instead of holding it inside. But a goddess was a bad target to pick. So Joel kept his mouth shut and nodded along to her rhetoric, a thin smile on his face.

Letting Jade do the talking was much easier than bringing up all the counterarguments his brain had already conjured up. She was the more convincing of them anyway. Joel couldn't fathom how Iris could claim the gods were keeping order when you learned that the children of the gods had basically been the root of most major conflicts in history in Being a Demigod 101. And...Zeus was pretty much responsible for single-handedly being the worst husband in the world. He doubted Hera (or all the mortals he'd knocked up) would agree that he was keeping order. It was probably bad form to bring that up though. Faking a cough to hide his laugh at Jade's mention of Area 51 , Joel looked away. It was definitely bad form to laugh before a clearly pissed-off goddess. But there was something going on at Area 51. Everyone knew that. Idly, he wondered if @_kllledbycain was a Kakashi impersonator full-time. Maybe that was the link to the Area 51 raid they needed! He'd have to remember to tell Jade...as soon as they were out of danger of being smited? Smote? Incinerated. 

It was probably his turn to chime in. To really sell it. He arranged his expression into a sheepish sort of smile. "Seriously, the subscribers would...save us. But, uh, yeah. We didn't think it would take off like that, didn't think anything of it really. It was just supposed to be this silly thing we were working on. We're sorry if we put anyone at risk. And— yeah, what Jade said. Thank you, genuinely."

Jade glanced at Joel, wearing an expression that said 'what, are you going to get down and actually kiss her ass next time?' before glancing away, not wanting to snicker at her brother. 

Iris, however, seemed to be at least somewhat appeased by the twins responses, and while the downpour had turned to slightly more than a drizzle, she wore an expression like unto a tired caretaker. Was she ready for the next problem? Probably not, and so she would send Hermes to deal with that one instead. "I never said I was the one to vouch for you." 

Jade wanted to point out that she didn't deny it either, but she didn't want to make the little smile on Iris's face disappear. "Well, thanks for coming to deliver the message personally, then. It's always good to see you, auntie." Though it'd be better if it didn't come with an unneeded shower. Jade dipped her head to sniff herself. Okay, after hours of driving, maybe the shower wasn't entirely unnecessary. 

Iris hummed in response as the rain died down almost entirely, and her form flickered before the two demigods. "Now, if you even think about putting that back up, I won't be the god associated with weather that will be coming to speak to you." She sighed and put a hand up to her ear. "Okay, now I need to deal with a translation error in Prague. Don't make any trouble, good luck on your trip, and kids, please, get into a change of clothes, before you get sick." 

Jade opened her mouth to make a point, but the goddess was already gone, and so she just looked to Joel like a wet cat, jaw set as her hair dripped. "Such bullshit. I need to remember to wear a wetsuit next time we put up an episode.

Instinctively feeling the judgy look Jade was giving him, Joel turned his head in time to get her subliminal message and give her a generous eye roll in return. Maybe he'd laid it on a bit thick, so what? At least the rain was stopping now. That and Iris looked significantly less bothered and more like herself— which meant that instead of being 100% done with the twins, she was only about 70% done with them. 

"Tell Hermes we say thanks for the coffee," Joel grinned, giving Iris a little wave as he moved to dig a something out of the trunk of the car. He tried not to laugh when she gave them another warning, knowing full well that he and Jade were thinking the same thing. It was time for another episode. "See you later, Auntie," he gave the goddess a small wave as she shimmered out of view then, looked over at Jade. She really did look like a wet cat. He probably didn’t look much better. In fact, the two of them probably looked a little ridiculous. They seemed to be standing in the only area of the whole rest stop that had been rained on. Go figure. 

"Here," he held a towel out to Jade. "I'll add 'wetsuits' to our Patreon wishlist. Should I put 'umbrella' on there too?"

“Shut up,” Jade grumbled, clearly not in the mood for Joel’s ability to remain his goofy self in any situation. She took the towel and stepped around the car so that she could open the back seat and dig through clothes that she could change into for the rest of the ride. "There's an umbrella somewhere in here. Probably ten, honestly, and they're probably all piled under Toothless's cage." She shot their bearded dragon a look, as though he had been hoarding all the umbrellas on purpose, and he gave her a lazy wink in return. "He just winked, Joel! No shit! He basically told us that he ate them all." 

Once fully changed, she wrapped her wet clothes up in the towel and tossed it in the back (something to deal with later), then walked around the car fully so that she could climb into the passenger's side. She drew her legs up so that she could rest them on the dashboard, and was only on her phone for a short time before she groaned and slumped down in the seat, contorting in a very uncomfortable-looking position. 

"Ugh! Ughhhh. They got it taken off Patreon too." She huffed, looking at Joel with a forlorn expression. "Whatever, I don't even give a shit. Like this won't make it blow up even more." She wasn't sure she really believed her words, and her tone betrayed this. "Whatever," she repeated, rolling her eyes as she sniffled and turned her head to look out at the rain dramatically. It would have helped if it was actually still raining. "I'm naming the next episode number 33, I don't even care."

"Alright, alright," he nodded, understanding how his twin was feeling. While Jade busied herself looking for dry clothes, Joel set to work cleaning out the front seat before the next leg of their drive. It was no surprise that he quickly filled a plastic bag with trash— most of which was empty chip and candy bags. "He did what?" Joel glanced over the backseat, making eye contact with Toothless and raised an eyebrow. The reptile stared back at him, unblinking. "Oh, for sure. Tooth's a machine. He could eat a whole umbrella factory. Is that a thing?" 

Finally, the cab of the car was clean, save for the two coffee cups in the center console. Joel picked up Jade's cup, shook it to make sure it was empty, and added it to the bag of trash. Grabbing his own iced mocha, he took a sip, the straw making an empty slurping sound in the drained cup. This too he added to the bag. Returning to the car after disposing of their trash, a gleam in the console caught his eye. In the same moment, Jade clambered into the passenger seat. 

"They— seriously? Ugh." Joel quickly swapped out his shirt for a dry hoodie and got into the passenger seat. "God how do you drive like this?" He muttered before adjusting the chair and mirrors for his height. Wishing he could say something to lift Jade's spirits, a small frown worked its way onto his face. He knew his twin well enough to know that she'd recover in the morning when they saw how many new subscribers and views this debacle was sure to bring, but in the meantime— "Can I offer you a drachma in this trying time?" Joel had fished the handful of gleaming gold coins from the cupholder while Jade vented. Now, he held one out to Jade, the grin on his face almost as bright as the coin resting in his palm. "Looks like someone didn't want our episode to be taken down. Found it under the coffee."

Jade peeked away from the window back at her brother, looking up at him from where she was burrowing herself in her sweatshirt. She took the coin and pressed it to her chest, shifting in the seat to push herself up a bit, as the world seemed a bit less like it was going to end. She exhaled a breath and gave a small smile to Joel. "Should've left fries instead. Can't eat this." 

Nevertheless, her spirits were no doubt lifted, and she raised her eyebrows at her twin. "Ready to start work on episode 33 tomorrow?"

"Episode 33 tomorrow," Joel agreed, as he put the car in reverse. "Fries now."

[plumwordies]

hello, everyone. i’ve been mulling over this piece for a while now. guess i finally put the time to write it down and hurt myself in the process lmao. this was originally supposed to be a readerxbakugou smut piece, but i got carried away (extremely) and ended up writing a whole angsty backstory to it inspired by the latest bnha chaps. what do you think? should i continue writing?

BURN

PART ONE

Dust.

The word was a relentless thrumming inside Bakugou’s head. He scrubbed some shampoo on his hair until it lathered, some of the substance pouring down his face. In front of him, the shower head was left open, steaming hot water raining down the cold tiles below.

When is the end?

Bakugou leaned his arm to the wall, the water from the shower falling down his body in cascades. His breathing was rough, each exhale emitting a puff of steam inside his small shower. Their small shower.

He thought about his mentors. Best Jeanist was missing. Hawks is wanted after escaping from his imprisonment sentence. Word around says he conspired with the League of Villains — now called the The Paranormal Liberation Front. Eraser Head is confined at the hospital in a comatose state, brought by an intense fight with Shigaraki Tomura, and Endeavor —

Bakugou stopped that train of thought. He turned his head down, teeth gritting hard. The villains were worthless, the whole lot of them. Probably thought everything was just a game. Lives lost, a fun activity. Cities damaged, people drowning in poverty — an entertaining past time. It’s been five months from the devastation already, and Bakugou couldn’t count the amount of heroes found dead. Murdered on the streets by villains or even the angry citizens of Mustafa. Gone were the days of systematic governance and disciplined living. Now, it was a hellhole. The rules were simple: it was a survival game of the fittest.

He guessed Endeavor wasn’t the fittest after all.

The day the number one hero fell was as clear in Bakugou’s mind like it just happened yesterday. Five months ago, him and Deku rushed to the disaster scene like the dumb fucks they were, and ended up being pushed away by Gran Torino.

“Run away, you fools!” Gran Torino yelled.

Little did they know, those would be his last words. Five months later, and his body still hasn’t been found.

Eraser Head rushed to the scene and engaged in an intense battle with Shigaraki Tomura. From the sidelines, Bakugou could do nothing but watch as his teacher fell to the ground from a strong blow by the monster. He fell so hard that the ground beneath him cracked. Bakugou never saw him breathe, and despite the hot anger that was building up in his core, the cold feeling in his hands were evident.

Still, he didn’t stop staring at staring at Eraser Head’s chest. No movement.

“Kacchan, we have to go.” It was Deku, pulling him away. This was unlike him. Deku was usually the type of person to act idiotic and go rogue, but it seems like Gran Torino’s words got to him. They must know something Bakugou didn’t. He saw Deku’s eyes tearing up from the sight of their teacher, yet he still wanted to flee?

Coward.

“Fuck off.” Bakugou violently shrugged his hand off before heading towards their teacher. Suddenly, Shigaraki Tomura landed on Eraser Head’s stomach, giving one final kick to his face. Bakugou saw their teacher’s head jerk to the side, seemingly lifeless.

Deku’s screaming in the background was nothing more than a whisper to Bakugou’s ears as he ran towards Shigaraki Tomura, seeing red. His mouth opened, letting out an angry shout as all the events rushed back to him: the kidnapping, the Nomus —

All Might.

Bakugou lunged for Shigaraki Tomura, right arm pulled pack and poised for a strong explosive blow. The latter merely stared up at him, face morphing into his signature smile.

And then it came.

Numbness. Pure, undiluted numbness, like a part of Bakugou’s body was submerged in deep water — and then nothing.

Pain.

An onslaught of white-hot searing pain wrenched over his body, literally ripping and cracking him apart. It came too fast that Bakugou couldn’t even make a sound. He only stared wide-eyed at his opponent’s face, the last thing he would see before the void.

“When I come back, everything turns to dust. It ends then.” Those were Shigaraki’s final words.

It ends then. It ends now.

This —

Bakugou remembered thinking.

— is Decay.

PART TWO

Bakugou woke up a few hours later in an abandoned building. He was propped up on the coarse wall, sitting. His body was so heavy, and somehow his eyesight was worse. Squinting, he made out a figure — Deku — sitting squat on the ground, facing the opposite way.

“Oi.” Bakugou grunted. He noticed the weakling’s shouders were shaking. “Are you deaf or something? Oi, Deku!” He kicked him in the back, forcing him to look his way.

“What the hell happened?” Bakugou groaned. Speaking hurt him so bad.

Deku’s lower lip quivered, not replying. It took all Bakugou had not to punch him. He was about to shout again at him when the latter spoke in a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

It was so soft that it was hard to catch.

“What are you on about?” Bakugou began. He saw Deku hitch his breath. “Sorry about what?” He shouted, making him flinch.

“Your arm, Kacchan. Your arm—“ Deku was crying so much that snot and saliva were dribbling down his chin. He scrambled to his knees and put his forehead to the ground.

“I’m so sorry.”

Bakugou then realized he couldn’t feel his arm — the right one, to be exact. He had just dismissed it earlier when he woke up, because his whole body was hurting so bad there wasn’t much distinction. A hollow, tingling feeling was running from his shoulder onwards.

With a sharp intake of breath, he looked down.

It was gone. His arm was gone. Nothing left but a rotten, cracking dry stump.

In all of his existence, Bakugou never doubted his quirk. It helped him immensely. It was strong, and its raw power gave him the comfort he needed as a young boy. It told him what he had was something the world needed.

But for Bakugou’s quirk to work, arms were required. Looks like the world will have to make do with just one.

Bakugou leaned his head on the wall behind him, looking up at the grey cement roof of the building. He didn’t breathe. Breathing felt too much like living.

“After you rushed over to Shigaraki, I used my quirk to get you out of the way.” It was Deku. He stuttered along his sentences. “It wasn’t enough. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t enough.”

“How bad is it?” Deku looked up and saw Bakugou staring down at him. An extended silence passed between them.

Why didn’t it end then?

“I couldn’t stop it... before it reached your face.”

Maybe it could still end now.

With Deku’s statement, Bakugou collapsed to the ground, slowly breathing again. Wisps of dust floated around him as he grinned, staring at the blank cement roof. He thought he was crying, but he felt no wetness down his cheeks. Maybe the decay got to his eyes and he couldn’t cry anymore. Maybe he was, deep inside, but who knows.

So he laughed.

Bakugou laughed while Deku screamed. Laughed as his friend stood up screaming, flailing and kicking rocks around them as he wailed like the crybaby he was. A piece of rubble flew and hit Bakugou in the face.

That’s what they were now: pieces of rubble in this crumbling society.

PART THREE

Bakugou turned the shower faucet until the water slowly dissipated, leaving arrhythmic drips on the floor and the occasional wisp of steam due to the heat. He stepped out of the wet floor, grabbed his towel and hung it around his waist with difficulty. He walked to the mirror, sliding his palm over it to remove the fog.

His image stared back at him, disoriented. The mirror they had was cheap but it was the only one they could afford. Nevertheless, it still served its purpose. Bakugou picked up his toothbrush and laid it on the sink, squeezing some toothpaste on it. He ran it under water and started brushing his teeth.

He was evidently getting skinnier as the days passed. The huge scar on the right sight of his face was turning an ugly grey color, and he was now half blind. His hair was a bit longer and quite dead, and of course the absence of his right arm brought an odd feeling to his body. A phantom limb.

He spit froth on the sink. He was past the stage of wishing it grew back now.

After him and Deku left the building five months ago, they passed by a local convenience store that played live news on their old television. A bunch of people were gathered around it, a nervous chatter among them. He remembered Deku who stopped in his tracks, eyes wide at the broadcast.

“It’s Endeavor!” He shouted. Bakugou looked over his shoulder and saw that it was, indeed, Endeavor. But he was in bad shape.

“Citizens of Mustafa, as of now you can see our number one hero fighting it out with the head of the League of Villains!” The announcer spoke. “He is in critical condition — numerous injuries can be seen in his body and his movements have been slowing down since earlier, but we still hold high hope for our new symbol of peace! Everyone, let’s support him!”

The people around them had mixed emotions. Some were cheering and some were muttering. Bakugou couldn’t help but frown as he stared at the ongoing fight. It was hard to believe that he was the one there earlier, almost dead. He saw Endeavor avoiding a fatal blow from Shigaraki Tomura, and furrowed his eyebrows.

Don’t make the same mistake I did.

The fight went on for a long time, and things weren’t looking good for the hero. Bakugou knew that if he looked at Deku right now the green-haired boy would be standing rigid, chest taut, and fists clenched. His eyes would be shining with hope.

The same hope that Bakugou still holds stupidly.

As always, death comes at an unexpected time. Bakugou knew that firsthand. He knew, yet couldn’t predict it. Nobody in the city could. That’s what made the system so fragile, so easy to break at any given moment.

All it took was a rock.

As Endeavor stepped back, ready to deliver another strong blow, he stepped on a particularly odd shaped rock and threw off his balance. With baited breath, Bakugou saw his own self in the number one hero, who held pride in their own self and quirk, get snuffed out by the waiting hands of injustice.

Bakugou and Deku were stuck on their feet. They weren’t the only ones. Everyone in the whole city were probably the same at that moment — standing, dreaming —

Hoping.

Shigaraki Tomura smiled, and grabbed Endeavor by the wrist.

Bakugou could feel exactly what the number one hero felt at that moment. As he stilled, not able to do anything but watch as decay ran in a current from his arms, to his shoulders, to his throat, and to his head.

In just a second, Shigaraki Tomura managed to destroy a whole nation.

PART FOUR

A few minutes after the broadcast shut down suddenly, the news switched to a live press conference. All Might was there in the center, holding a microphone. Numerous journalists were around the room, clicks and flashes of their cameras in a frenzy.

“We declare a nationwide surrender.” He began. “The villains have managed to dominate the heroes in such a short amount of time, and with the fall of our current number one hero—“ His voice cracked. “We cannot ensure that the heroes have the capability to ensure safety of the citizens. We don’t know what they are planning, or what they will do next.”

An onslaught of questions were shouted in his way, but he held up a hand to them, silencing the room immediately.

“All we are asking for is for the people to fend for themselves momentarily until the heroes can establish a new system to follow. That’s all. Thank you.” The statement was so absurd, so stupid that it left more questions than answers. The whole room erupted in chaos, but All Might calmly put the microphone down on the podium, and walked out.

Two symbols of hope down in one day.

This was it? Was this what Bakugou’s whole life led to? War?

Bakugou eyed Deku who was right beside him. His head was hung down, and no emotion could be deduced on his face. He just saw All Might — his god, his father figure, and his mentor, selling all of them to the villains like pig meat and running away.

It ends then.

By the time the tears fell from Deku’s eyes, Bakugou was gone.

[oncerpotter2018]

DAY 7 - I'LL BE YOUR HERO // CARRYING

He was late, he was so late and he knows it as he rushed outside in the pouring rain trying to put his hood on. Trying to balance his bag books and umbrella with both hands Charles knew then that he wasn't the greatest multitaker. The rain only got worst by nine o'clock when Charles heard his phone ring. Charles groaned, his eyes closed letting the water fall down his umbrella. He rushed down an allyway he never been before to get out of the cold and pouring rain.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Not play that act on me, where are you? You said you'll be home by six" it was Raven on the other line. Charles shares a flat with his sister and Hank McCoy. Raven needed a place to stay when her home was getting renovated. And Hank, well Hank was just a good roommate to keep him company.

"I know. I know, I just got stuck with heavy work load" Charles shouted trying to get his voice heared from the constant rainfall. He didn't realise being a Professor at New York's most prestigious schools would be so difficult.

"Well come home quickly, Hank is threatening to make use of this time to watch documentaries about space again" Raven said keeping her voice low to cover her lack of interest in the matter.

Charles laughed a little to himself knowing how much he loves it when Raven tries to avoid Hank's love for science.

"Okay, I'm coming over soon. Just wait a while. I promise once I get home ill find Hank something else to keep him occupied" he replied.

"You better be" she quickly added as the phone buzzed indicating she left the conversation. Charles looked around, the rain coming to a light drizzle. He didn't had time to have a quick stroll as he zoomed passed the empty alleyway to find his exit. He ran until a sound of heavy breathing, strained and wheezing caught his attention. All he wanted to do was go home, relax by the fireplace drinking his warm tea but the sound of the vulnerable caught his ears and his philosophies of morla conduct to help those in need proved to much for him and so he followed his heart to the sound. There lying faced down near the trash cans were a body, but it wasn't some drunk but a young looking man about his age, but the difference was that Charles wasn't the one wounded and bleeding to his death. Charles gasps, hand to his mouth as he ran towards the man lying there in the dirt and rain. He ran and immediately dropped all his stuff, the umbrella laid forgotten beside him.

Charles touched the man on the shoulders being careful to not cause more pain. Careful he turned him around and there for an instance his eyes widened to reveal a familiar face. Erik and Charles have been dating for most of their collage years and through their early adulthood but something happened and Charles snapped. They broke up this time last year for silly reasons. Charles couldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it but his moral conscious told him it was true. He told himself that he'll help him this time but when he gets better he will forget about him.

"Oh gosh!" he told himself as he saw Erik's face. Just below his eye was a deep gash, blood, still fresh dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Erik right arm was wrapped around his stomach where Erik tried to hid the most troubling wound. A stab wound on his waist and a gun shot near his stomach. Charles quickly pressed his hands on the wound strifling the blood flow. The more Charles looked at Erik all like this, all hurt and broken the more Charles didn't realise he was crying.

"Stay with me. Stay with me" said Charles holding Erik's hand his time. Erik with all the strength he had turned his eyes to face Charles. He couldn't understand what was happening, his mind so disoriented he thought he saw a ray of light, Charles used to believe in hope, but this couldn't be it. It just can't.

By the time Erik was brought to his senses, he opened his eyes slowly to realse he was alive. He sat up his eyes still adjusting to the light, he tried to open them fully but he just couldn't do it. His head was pounding at his skull wondering where he was. What he didn't realise was Charles was in the room, his eyes watching his chest move. Charles looked onwards trying to adjust to this new propound feeling. For a moment Charles looked away and looked back and turned away again. After a few more minutes of doing the same repeated action Raven came in wanting to speak to her brother. A very important matter must be issued.

"I don't like him here" Raven whispered.

"But Raven..."

"I'm not having it Charles, he hurt you, and you agreed to be done with him a year ago" her anger growing as she said those words. Charles' morals were drifting again, his mind forcing on Erik's body resting on the bed.

"I... I couldn't just leave him there. I know what he did but he doesn't deserve this. Whoever did this to him had no right to..." he was cut off.

"Maybe he did deserve. Maybe he got himself some kind of trouble again and look what his actions got him. I don't want you around him, I've asked Hank to look after him. Just take my word for it Charles. Once he gets better he'll be the same as he was that night, a monster" she said leaving with Charles disheartened. Maybe she was right? Will Erik betray him again? Charles shook off the feeling only to be pulled back to reality when he heard Erik say words that he never thought he would hear for a long time.

"Charles.. Charles, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I.. I love you" the last part was muttered but it was clear for Charles to hear. He rushed to Erik's side and held his hand wanting it to be hope, a proof that he needed to say Raven's wrong, wrong about Erik. He squeezed Erik's hand tightly but from Erik's response he never spoke again.

After a week of being in and out of consciousness, Charles was beginning to lose hope, to give Erik another shot at love. But it took the end of the Sunday afternoon for Erik to finally wake up. He was still dizzy and lightheaded but alive, and alive he was. He looked around and there by the door was the last person he wished to see.

"how long have you been standing there?" he asked.

"Long enough to see you wake up" Charles said giving a light chuckle. Erik didn't see what was funny but somehow he missed Charles' laugh, the way his eyes glow as he did. Charles sat down at the end of the bed, the silence surrounding them.

"Did you really mean what you said? About not menaing to hurt me. That you still loved me" Charles said trying to find a topic to move on to. Erik bit his still bruised lip and winced at the pain. Charles held his hand for comfort. Erik looked down and realised he couldn't do anything but answer so he looked into his eyes and gently nodded his head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I was a fool, and looked what has got me, beaten and broken after one mistake. I ran into osme trouble with some guys from a pub, challenged them when I shouldn't have and so they taught me a lesson... I'm so sorry" he whispers, his head low. Charles looked at him and with his heart now moving twice as fast, he pulled Erik into a hug. Erik didn't dare move and let Charles embrace him.

"I love you" he said.

"I love you too" he said.

[make-me-imagine]

Hi! Congrats for the almost 5K you deserve it. I’m a 21 female and bisexual I have brunette hair with brown eyes and I'm 1.63 tall My hobbies are read, sing, write, draw, watch movies (I LOVE MOVIES) A24 movies are my favourites and I love learn more about movies and musicals. I’m Ravenclaw. I’m good at school I have good grades and my favourite subject are math (I know is weird) I’m a little shy at the begining but when I feel comfortable I’m very spoke I’m a good friend and good listener 1/2🎷

Thank you! I’m sorry it took so long for me to get these out, I hope you like them! I’m sorry the drabbles are a little short. 

Harry Potter:

I ship you with Harry. He would love that you are into so many different things, and I think that once you introduced him to the stuff you like he would get really into it as well. He would tease you sometimes for liking math, but he doesn’t really care and actually thinks it’s pretty cool. Though, don’t be surprised when he asks you for help on his math assignments. You share the distaste for selfish bullies and this would only help you two to bond. 

Prompt 14: Rainy Day

You sat on edge of the stone staircase looking out at the school grounds, watching students running from one class to another, robes covering their heads as the yelled at each other to hurry up, the rain ran off of the castle in dribbles and small waterfalls. 

The sound of the rain hitting the ground, paired with the distant sound of rumbling thunder sent a comforting wave over you as you took a deep breath of the fresh rain air. 

“Y/n” Harry called your name gently from the bottom of the staircase, not wanting to startle you.

Looking towards the voice you see Harry waiting at the bottom of the steps, smiling at each other you climbed down from your perch as you bounded down the steps to meet him, falling into his arms in greeting as he chuckled.

“Hi” you greeted as you looked up at him.

“Hi” he responded back before pressing a quick peck to your head “Ready?”

You nodded with a smile as you turned to walk together towards the library, you had promised to help each other study. His hand wrapped around yours as you moved down the corridors, the rain growing louder as the storm moved in.

“Are Hermione and Ron coming?” you asked loudly over the rain.

“No, Hermione is going to study alone, and Ron never showed”

“Typical” you commented with a smile, Harry returning it.

The rest of your day would be spent in the library, candles lit as you poured over your textbooks and homework, the rain and thunder coming and going as you snuggled together, your minds and conversation wandering from your work multiple times, but neither of you were really bothered by it. You found each others company too comforting and distracting. 

You both figured this was the reason neither Hermione or Ron wanted to study with you. Hermione would fail to get you to to focus the whole time, and not only would Ron be bored, but he would be ‘disturbed” by yours and Harrys lovey looks and snuggling as you made silent comment to each other.

But you were both fine with this, there was no other way you’d like to spend a rainy day at Hogwarts, than like this. 

Marauders:

I ship you with Remus. I think Remus is the type to also enjoy math, which he would get teased about all the time by the others, so when he found out that it’s your favorite subject he was really happy. He is a bit shy as well so it took a while for you to to really get to know one another, but once you were comfortable you relationship bloomed pretty quickly after that. He supports your dream of becoming a baker and loves the idea. I think Remus would also really be into movies, like A24 movies as well, so he loves the nights when you two can just hang out and watch your favorites. 

Prompt 14: Rainy Day

You stared out at the rainy street as you wrapped your arms around yourself, the cold wet breeze chilling you. You glanced down at your now inside out and broken umbrella that you shove into the trash, as another gust of wind blew your hair into your face.

You shivered as you looked around again your eyes catching on a tall figure rounding the corner. As the figure moved their umbrella, you saw Remus’s face as he looked around.

“Remus!” you called over the loud rain as you waved your hand.

Barely hearing your voice, but seeing you wave, he rose his hand in greeting as he checked the street before running across to you. He saw your cold and wet figure shivering as he approached. 

He felt guilty for having taken so long to get to you, though he wondered why you didn’t have your umbrella. His question was answered however when he got to you, seeing the end of the familiar red umbrella poking out of the trashcan.

“I’m sorry I took so long” he commented at he got to you “I would have ran had I known you were like this” he said as he rubbed his arm up and down yours, knowing you must be cold.

You smiled at him “It’s fine! You’re here now!”

He returned your smile before pulling you close to him so you could be underneath his umbrella as you made your way down the street towards your favorite date spot. 

Another strong gust of wind blasted past you, almost scooping Remus’s umbrella from his hands “No!” both of you called as you tried to save it. The umbrella bent slightly, but survived as you two laughed and ran faster towards the cafe in the distance, both of you getting wetter by the second. 

Finally reaching the cafe you made it inside, sighing as a nice warmth rushed over you. You each took off your wet jackets and made your way to your normal corner seat, ordering your normal drinks and foods as you relished in each others company, trying to warm up from the outside storm.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to do this today” Remus commented as the rain grew harder outside, a loud rumble of thunder booming as you felt it’s vibration. 

“Maybe” you began before smiling at him “But we’re here now so we might as well make the most of it!” 

His own smile widened as he reached over, placing his hand over yours and squeezing it “Sounds good to me”

*Andrew Garfield as young Remus Lupin