#twice she had held his dying form in her arms and twice she had had tears in her eyes because she thought he was about to die

[zirconpetals]

Willow is the most popular girl in school, she could have had literally anyone she wanted but she chose the guy that can't stop dying in her arms.

Titan give this girl strength.

[themidnightcrimson]

ghostface ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda has been missing for months, and the last place you expected to find her was behind a ghost mask with a knife in her hand.

words: 7.7K

warnings: ghostface!wanda, top!wanda, fem!reader, blood kink, knifeplay, dubcon/noncon, cumstrap (r receiving), horror and fear, lots of blood, some more blood too, also there is blood

this post is a dark!fic and is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve passed behind the couch and handed a bottle of beer over your head. “Thanks, Rogers,” you said as you took the chilled bottle, handing it to Natasha who sat beside you on the couch for her to open it for you.

You watched as Nat reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and took out her switchblade, flicking the lever so that the dainty but incredibly sharp knife popped up in front of her face. The light from the movie playing on the television in the dark room reflected off the spotless blade. She smirked a little, always proud to show off her knife skills, as she took your beer bottle and used the knife to pop the cap, cold smoke hissing from the bottle’s rim. She handed it back to you and tossed the cap onto the pile of beer caps sitting on the coffee table in front of you. The three of you had really blown through several cold ones that night.

You, Steve, and Natasha had recently started having weekly Friday movie nights. Each Friday, you got together in Natasha’s homely little apartment and ate pizza and drank beer while watching a scary movie of your choice. Naturally, Natasha chose the Texas Chainsaw Massacre the first night, and the next week, Steve chose the original black and white Frankenstein movie which he said was scary enough for him. This week it was your turn to choose, and you had chosen The Conjuring.

Steve winced from behind his beer bottle as the movie played. He looked funny, a large muscular man, cuddling up on the old blue recliner and struggling to hold his stomach down as the movie played. Natasha watched it with wide eyes that didn’t blink and an amused smirk on her lips. You were somewhere in the middle, not as easily bothered as Steve but not coldhearted sociopath like Nat. Still, when something did get to you, you always grabbed Nat’s arm and hid your face in her hair.

Things had been different the last few months. Before, there would be two more people in your party—Wanda and Vision. They were soulmates in the form of best friends, although everyone knew Vision had a crush on Wanda. Although she found him annoying, he was a doting friend whom she cared a lot about—you all cared a lot about.

Two months ago, Vision was driving when his car was struck by a large truck losing control. He died twice—once on the road, his bloodied bodied having flung through the windshield and onto the concrete where his head cracked. The paramedics were able to revive his pulse and take him to the hospital. In the middle of an emergency surgery that was supposed to save his life, his pulse stopped and did not come back.

The worst part was that Wanda was there the whole time—in the car with him before the wreck, crouched over his body as the paramedics resuscitated him, holding his hand in the screeching ambulance, and outside the room when the doctors pronounced him dead again. Vision had died twice—and Wanda watched each time.

It was Vision’s dying wish to have his body dedicated to science, so there was no burial. When Wanda completely disappeared, there was not even a funeral held. No one had seen or heard from her since Vision died, and you remembered that every time you saw your friends. Her absence was unignorable.

When the movie was finally over, Steve insisted that you watch something lighter so that he could feel better before going home. Natasha laughed as he put Bluey on.

“God, I feel drunk,” you groaned as you laid your head back against Nat’s sofa and cast your legs across her lap. “We drink too much.”

“You drink too much, bunny,” Nat remarked as she opened another beer for herself. “You’ve gotta remember you’re still a lightweight.”

“Have some water,” Steve said, grabbing a water bottle from the table and tossing it to you. The water felt refreshing on your tongue as you chugged half of it in one go.

“Woah there, everything you just drank is gonna come right back up,” Nat laughed, gently taking the water bottle away from your mouth as you swallowed the last bit and wiped the stray drops from your mouth.

Feeling antsy from the movie, Steve opened his phone and checked his messages. You watched as his eyebrows sewed together, his eyes widening. “Guys.”

“What?” Nat sighed, casually casting an arm over your shoulder as she stared mindlessly at the TV.

“Sam just sent me this article,” Steve said, turning the phone so that you and Nat could see the screen. “Apparently, we got a killer on the loose.”

Natasha leaned forward with concern, reaching over you to grab Steve’s phone so she could read it. You peered over her shoulder and saw that the article said there have been multiple fatal stabbings across the city in the past week all linked to one unidentified suspect. Out of abundance of caution, the police department was issuing a citywide curfew starting at 11 p.m. and warned citizens to be on the lookout for a tall, cloaked individual wearing a white ghost mask.

“Ghost mask,” Natasha remarked as her eyes read over the words at the same time as yours. “Jesus Christ.” She handed Steve’s phone back to him.

Steve sighed and read over the article again. “What has the world come to?”

Your face was set in an expression of concern as you thought over the circumstance, and then you remembered that the city has issued a curfew. Grabbing Nat’s wrist, you turned it and looked at the time on her watch. “It’s 10:50. The curfew starts a 11.”

“Shit,” Steve groaned in realization, looking at his watch, too.

“You guys can just stay here tonight,” Nat offered, sitting up with urgency.

“Nah, Nat. I have to train early in the morning,” Steve said, pushing his phone into his pocket and downing the last of his beer before slamming it down on the coffee table. “And after that movie, I’m barely gonna get enough sleep tonight as it is.”

“I bet I could make it home before 11 if I leave now,” you said, standing up to your feet.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nat said as she sprung to her feet with you. You looked at her questioningly, and she tilted her head and hesitated. “If there really is a killer on the loose, you shouldn’t be walking home alone at night, curfew or not.”

“I need to get home to feed my neighbor’s cat,” you argued. Nat’s eyebrows raised, and you sighed and explained, “She went on vacation for a week, and I’m supposed to feed the cat every night. It’s already so late—the kitty’s probably starving by now.”

“Then let me walk you home.”

You tilted your head like hers. “Then you would be the one walking home alone, silly.”

“I’ll get her home,” Steve announced as he slipped his brown jacket on. “Her apartment is on the way to mine.” Nat stared at him, not very convinced. “It will be fine, Nat. But if she’s going to leave, we need to do it now.”

Throwing her head back in frustration, Nat gave in. “Fine. But you better use yourself as a human shield if a guy in a ghost mask jumps out of an alley at you.”

Steve crouched and leveled his fists in front of his face, punching the air in front of him. You and Nat just stared blankly at him as he straightened and smiled sheepishly.

“Aren’t you the one who just nearly pissed your underwear from a scary movie?” said Nat.

“That’s demons!” he argued. “I’m a total boss in real life.”

“Don’t ever say total boss again,” Nat grumbled as she picked up your jacket from over the couch and slipped it over your arms gently. Nat was always extra caring and protective over you. Whether it was a best friend thing, a sister thing, or something more, she always did everything possible to make you feel safe and taken care of, especially after Wanda disappeared. She knew how close the two of you were and how much it affected you when she up and left.

Natasha walked the two of you to her front door, Steve leaving first and you following after. Before you passed through the door, you stopped, turning to Natasha who stood close to you.

You hesitated. You had asked everyone you knew this question a million times, almost every other day. You felt annoying and absurd, but you just couldn’t help the constant gnawing feeling inside you that was driving you crazy. But you knew Nat would never judge you.

Natasha read the concern on your face, crinkling her brow and leaning closer to you. Looking up at her, your lips opened a few times before you whispered, “Have you heard from Wanda?”

She must have assumed that was what you were going to ask, because her lips pressed into a straight line and her eyebrow softened. “No, I haven’t bunny,” her raspy voice assured you.

Disappointed, you sighed and looked at the ground. Nat’s hand met your shoulder, her warm palm rubbing it comfortingly.

“She just needs some time.”

“It’s been two months, Nat.”

“Everyone grieves differently, bunny,” she told you as she had told you a million times before, after each time you had asked her. “She’s grieving Vision, and you’re grieving her. Just as you want her to move on, you need to move on, too.” Hearing someone tell you to just move on was never the best advice, but with the way Nat was holding your shoulder and the gentleness laced in her voice, as if she was afraid that talking too loudly might break you, you found it assuring.

“Okay,” you whispered. She gave you a look questioning if you were okay, to which you answered with a slow nod and a soft smile.

“10:52!” Steve called from down the apartment hallway.

Nat quickly leaned forward and kissed the top of your head. “Be safe, bunny.”

“You, too.” You patted her arm and turned away, catching up to Steve who led you down the stairs.

Everyone had taken the curfew seriously, because the streets were nearly empty as Steve walked you home. He talked about all the training he had to do in the morning, to which you disinterestedly listened because it comforted you from the dark, quiet streets. Once you finally made it home, Steve hugged you goodbye and left to go to his apartment just a couple blocks over.

First, you took out the key your neighbor had given you and went into her apartment, being met with her orange and white cat who was already meowing at the door when you walked in.

“Hi, kitty,” you cooed, leaning down to rub the cat’s back as he pushed his forehead against your shin, his tail curling around your calf. “I’m sorry kitty, I know you’re so hungry.”

You got the food out from the cabinet where your neighbor kept it and poured it into the cat’s bowl, watching him instantly settle down into proper loaf position to hungrily eat.

“I’ll be earlier tomorrow,” you promised him, giving him a few more pets before you watered your neighbor’s succulents and then left, making sure the door was locked behind you. A door down, you entered your own apartment, sighing and letting your back lean against the cool door for a moment.

Coming back home alone was always depressing. You didn’t understand. You had lived alone for years because you liked it that way—you liked having your own space, your own things, your own comfort zone to relax in. The past two months, the emptiness was deafening.

“Maybe I should invest in a cat,” you murmured to yourself as you slid your jacket off and hung it on the coatrack.

After taking a shower, you still felt a little too tipsy to sleep. Plus, as braver you were than Steve, the movie did have you feeling a little on edge. So instead of going to bed like you normally would, you dragged your favorite fuzzy blanket from your bed to the couch and turned on Bluey, starting where you left off at Nat’s. You also got a bowl of Lucky Charms both for comfort and because you needed your stomach to settle from all the pizza grease and alcohol.

Five minutes into Bluey and stuffing your face, you felt your phone ringing from the table beside the couch. Crunching on the cereal, you glanced over to your phone that vibrated, moving slightly atop the table. It was Nat’s contact lighting up your phone, the screen filled with your favorite picture of her where she’s wearing a green face mask with a cucumber slice over one eye, her other eye squinting open.

Shifting the bowl to your right hand, you reached to your left and grabbed the phone, tapping the answer icon and bringing it to your ear.

“Yes, I made it home safe, Nat. Steve didn’t get stabbed, nor did I, and everything’s safe. You can sleep soundly tonight,” you immediately answered with a little giggle, already knowing that she was calling to bombard you with questions about if you made it back safely.

There was a beat of silence where all you heard was Bluey playing in front of you and the distant sounds of your neighbor’s cat meowing. A staticky hushing sound flooded through your phone’s speaker, and then a voice.

“Speaking too soon?”

The left side of your face where the phone was pressed tingled at the unfamiliarity of the voice in your ear. It was a strange, raspy voice, and you could tell almost instantly that it sounded audibly modified.

You second guessed yourself—was it someone else who called you? You took the phone away from your ear and looked at it again, but it was still Nat’s name in heart emojis and the picture of her in the green face mask with the cucumber slice over her eye. You brought it back to your ear, eyebrows sewing in confusion.

“Who is this?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” the voice drawled, low and hoarse in your ear, a tone of excitement laced in their voice.

You couldn’t help but feel a tendril of fear in your chest as the logical side of you tried to sort through all the possibilities of why Nat’s number had called you, yet you were not speaking to Nat.

“Is this a scam caller?” you blurted. “I know they figured out how to make it look like one of your contacts is calling you, but I’m not interested in your multilevel marketing scheme tonight, okay, buddy? Try again with a geriatric and maybe you’ll catch your luck.”

You were about to hang up before the voice spoke again, loud but hushing in your ear. “Let’s see… The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? No, that’s Natasha’s. What about Frankenstein? No, you’re too young for that. That would be more of Steve’s liking, wouldn’t it?”

Your lips fell open as the voice piqued your concern again. This definitely was not a scam caller, because there was no way a random stranger would know not only your friends’ names, but also which movies they had picked for movie night the last two Fridays in a row.

“What about… The Conjuring?!” The person’s voice rose in excitement, blaring through the speaker of the phone. A hissing laugh flooded the line, and your heart was starting to noticeably pound in your chest.

“Sam?!” you confidently asked, despite the seeping fear in your chest. Sam would know what you all had watched together, and he would definitely be the one to prank call you using a voice modifier just to scare the shit out of you.

“Is Conjuring your favorite movie, y/n?”

Your body froze as your brain started to run out of possibilities as to who it could be. The sounds of Bluey and the neighbor’s cat started to drown out of your hearing, your hand on your bowl of cereal turning sweaty and hot.

“Why don’t you put the Lucky Charms down so we can have a proper conversation?”

A gasp struck out of your throat as you set the Lucky Charms down harshly on the table, a few marshmallows and some milk spilling out of the bowl and onto the table. Pushing your blanket off your body that was now growing hot, you turned around to look around your apartment. The kitchen was empty, and so was the bathroom that you could see into, and so was your bedroom whose door was open.

“Who are you?” you demanded shakily, whipping your head to the window where your blinds had broken and hadn’t been replaced, looking out at the fire escape and seeing no one there.

“Don’t turn your head too hard there, y/n. You’ve had a lot to drink tonight, haven’t you?” the sinister voice said over the phone, and now your entire body was starting to throb in fear.

“If this is a prank caller, you should know my friend is a hacker and she will find out who you are,” you said, jumping up to your feet and turning in circles around your apartment even though you still saw no one there.

“One… two… three… four…” The voice counted, and on the other end of the line you could hear the light clinking of metal. “Thirteen… fourteen… fifteen! Fifteen beer caps!”

Your eyes went wide and instinctively started to moisten as you realized that the sound of metal was the pile of beer caps that the three of you had built on Nat’s table.

“Oh, you said your friend is a hacker? Are you talking about Natasha? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Natasha won’t be helping you out with anything anytime soon—or ever.”

Could it be Natasha herself prank calling you? That would be extremely out of the blue for her, since she seemed so worried about you walking home and she knew you were feeling extra sensitive about everything that had happened in the last few months. There was no way she would do that. But it was Nat’s number calling you, and there was the sound of the beer caps in her apartment, and the words of the person telling you that Nat was in some way incapacitated permanently.

“I’m calling the cops!” you yelled, taking the phone away from your face and instantly ending the call. Your trembling fingers fumbled to go back to the call app and dial the local police station’s number, accidentally opening other apps. Before you could dial anything, Nat’s contact lit up your screen again. Frustrated, you denied it, but almost instantly it blocked your screen again.

Maybe it was all a joke and now Nat was calling you to tell you she was okay, you thought. You answered the call with a very frustrated, “Hello?”

“You hang up on me again and I will gut you like a fish!” the voice angrily hissed with such power and fury that it made your back straighten suddenly. The loudness of their voice overpowered the voice modifier, but even as their voice changed, you still couldn’t put a finger on if you recognized it or not.

You just closed your mouth, breathing hard as your forehead grew sweaty and feverish.

“Unless you want me to slice pretty little Nat’s throat right open, I suggest you sit still and comply.”

Relief washed over you as you took the caller’s words meaning that Nat was still okay. In the silence on the line, you could hear the sound of a car in the background. This person was driving.

“What do you want?” you asked, and now that you knew for sure they weren’t near you, you ran to your bedroom and opened the drawer of your nightstand as quietly as you could.

“I want you to tell me your favorite scary movie,” they lolled with bemusement.

Focused on getting the gun out of your drawer and bullets from a pack of ammo to load it, you didn’t say anything.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a simple question. Everyone has a favorite scary movie.”

You realized that you didn’t hear the sound of a driving car in the background anymore, and they were getting impatient, so you blurted the first thing you could think of. “Saw.”

“Saw? With all that blood and gore?!”

“It’s a classic,” you breathed as you loaded the gun and then held it up, carefully walking back into the living room.

“You Americans always follow the sheep,” they said with a despicable laugh, and you could hear noises in the background.

“So… you’re not American?” you asked, trying to get more information about who was calling you. While you wanted to hang up and call the police, you knew they would just keep calling you back quicker than you could dial 911, and you thought you might as well try to figure out more.

They dodged your question completely. “What do you like so much about Bluey?”

Gasping, you turned towards your TV and pointed your gun at the animated characters on the screen. It was sickening, looking at the cute, childish show while you were holding a gun and being held hostage on the phone by a psychopath. You were starting to think they must be just a prank caller. Maybe they picked some random person, who happened to be you, and followed you to Nat’s apartment. They saw you were drinking and used their own beer caps to make you think they were in Nat’s apartment. Maybe they had seen you through the window eating Lucky Charms and watching Bluey. It had to be a prank.

“It’s… it’s cute,” you faintly answered, going to the window slowly, with your gun pointed at the glass.

The voice laughed again, singeing your nerves as you peered out of the window into the darkness, looking around as far as you could to make sure no one was there.

“Do you wanna hear a joke?”

Seeing that no one was anywhere near the window, you moved back across your living room.

“Sure,” you whispered.

“Knock… Knock.”

Your eyes instantly shifted to the front door which was right ahead of you. Did you even lock it? Were they mentioning the door because they were right outside?

Quickly, you jumped to the door and locked the handle and slammed the chain shut at the top of the door. Holding your breath, you brought your eye up close to the peephole, expecting to see some strange man standing outside your door. To your relief, there was no one there.

“W-Who’s there?” you whispered, keeping your eye at the peephole in case they jumped into sight.

You were met with the sound of the call being disconnected. Confused, you looked down at your phone, but the moment you did, you heard the piercing sound of glass shattering. Out of fright, you dropped your gun, and it slid out of reach under the kitchen table.

Shrieking, you turned around and saw that the window you were just standing at had been kicked through. In came a dark figure slinking through the broken window, heavy boots crunching the shards of broken glass on the floor as they stepped into the apartment. You froze. Their other foot came through, the trail of their black cloak slipping over the windowsill as they stepped fully inside your home. They stood, straightening themselves like a demonic shadow standing across the room from you.

What should have scared you the most was the large, shiny knife they held in their hand. But what really scared you was when they lifted their face to show a white ghost mask with darkness for eyes and a horribly, sickeningly twisted open mouth in the shape of a scream. From across the room, you saw the blood splattered across the mask, staining its otherwise spotless white surface. The black glove on their hand squeaked as they tightened their fist around the knife, the ghost mask tilting slowly to the side as they stared you down from behind the mask.

Your phone slipped out of your hands, and the sound of it crashing to the floor propelled you out of your frozen state. Unable to breathe, you grunted in fear as you turned and started to unlock your door so you could run away.

Heavy booted footsteps came thudding towards you as your sweaty fingers struggled to unlock the door, and you turned your head to see that they were coming right at you, raising the knife in the air which spread their black cloak out like wings of a black bird coming down to snatch their prey. You shrieked and jumped to the side right as their arm came down, hearing their large knife stick right into the wood of the door.

Stumbling like an idiot, you sprinted to the only other exit in sight—the broken window they had just come through. You had a little time as they were pulling their knife out of the door, but right as you got to the window, they were running towards you again.

The fear and adrenaline pumping through your blood was making you dizzy. You let out another undignified squeal of terror as you moved away from the window and jumped between the couch and the TV.

The masked killer which you had read about in the article stopped when they saw you moving directions, now standing on the other side of the couch from you. You jumped to the right, but they moved with you.

“Stop!” you screamed, moving to the left only to have them move at the same time as you, still holding up the shiny knife that glinted under the light of your apartment.

You were cornered. There was nowhere to go now. You just stood there, your knees shaking, crouched, just waiting for them to make their move.

In a sudden swoop, they leaped over the couch and lunged at you. You screamed, jumping away just in time for their knife to slice across your upper arm in a non-fatal catch. The person fell right into the TV, the screen on which Bluey still played turning into glitches as they knocked it right off the wall in a loud crash.

Sprinting to your bedroom, you slammed the door shut and locked it, lunging towards the window by your bed. You could hear them fumbling to get up in the other room.

You had this window glued shut several years before out of fear for your own safety. You lived in a dangerous city. There was a fire escape right outside your window. It was only common sense to have glued it shut so that no one would sneak into the window right beside where you lay sleeping in bed.

The cut on your arm was already gushing, bright red lines of blood flooding down your arm and trickling into your palm, making your grip on the window slippery. The cut hurt, and as you tugged upwards on the window, it hurt even more, but you were desperate. People could lift cars out of their own adrenaline, surely you could snap the barrier of super glue standing between you and your last effort to escape.

The doorknob to your bedroom aggressively throttled. You could hear them shoving their shoulder against the locked door, and you started to sob as you tried harder to open your window, feeling like there was a timer right over your head counting down to your own death. It was a manic state you were in, pulling at the window as your arm covered itself in your own blood and the person started using their boot to heavily kick down the door.

“Come on!” you cried, your bloody hand slipping off the window.

With another powerful kick to the door, it came right off the hinges, slamming into the adjacent wall as the cloaked, masked person started storming towards you.

There was nothing left to do. You tugged at the window again, not even bothering to watch them come towards you. If you were going to be murdered, you didn’t want to see them as they did it.

Instead of a knife, you felt two gloved hands grab you by your sides and lift you, throwing you onto your bed. You lost your breath as your back hit the mattress with force, and you watched as the person climbed over you. You were at least going to give them a fight.

Raising your legs, you tried to kick them away, but they grabbed hold of your ankles as they climbed between your thighs, using a great deal of strength to keep your legs still. You even heard them grunt in frustration, and the sound of them struggling to hold you down gave you a boost of confidence to jump up and punch them right in the mask. The person took one hand away from your leg to cover the mouth part of the mask, and you used the opportunity to kick them in the chest. To your surprise, they hardly faltered. The mask faced you again, and something in you twisted. The mask did not change its expression, but you knew now they were very, very angry.

They snatched your free leg and climbed further over you, leaning down and snapping their knifeless hand over your throat, squeezing hard. You watched as they raised the knife above your head. You choked and grabbed at their hand, using your legs to try and kick at them again, but they were kneeling between them, so all you could do was dig your heels into their hips which didn’t have any effect.

Their hand squeezed your throat hard, the leather of their gloves digging into your skin. Losing air, you grabbed at their iron grip on your throat, staring up at the horrifying ghost face above you and their knife positioned to strike.

If they were going to kill you, your dying wish was to see who this serial killer was. They were breathing hard, loudly, distracted by the passion of their pending kill, so you flew your hands to their face and ripped the mask off.

A head of red hair came spilling out of the mask as you tugged it off, and you were met with wide green eyes. If you weren’t already being choked, you would have lost your breath at the sight of Wanda above you.

“W-Wanda?” you choked, your face going bright red as your vision blurred. Your eyes shifted between the mask in your hand and her face—it was her the whole time.

Her lips snarled, showing her canines at you. Her pupils were wide and frenzied, a pink flush in her face and a shine on her forehead whether from the efforts of trying to catch you or from excitement of finally catching you. Her lip was busted from when you had punched her over the mask, a little blood bubbling into her mouth and spreading across her teeth.

She looked at you for a moment, her face hardening, and she released her hand from your neck right before you were about to pass out. You desperately sucked in air, coughing and choking as your lungs filled with oxygen.

“So I did get you,” she said, her eyes moving to your bloody arm. Her tongue ran over her lower lip as she reached down and ran her gloved hand over the cut, smearing more blood across your skin. Fear twisted inside you as you watched her pink lips turn into a demonic smile.

“Wanda,” you whispered, breathing heavily as you saw her more clearly now. “What have you done?”

Was she the same ghostfaced serial killer who had been killing people in the city? Is this where she has been for these two months, breaking into people’s homes and stabbing them to death?

“It didn’t take long for Natasha to swoop in, did it?” she asked, and you realized then that when the voice modifier glitched over the phone, it had been her voice you heard. It’d been so long since you heard it that you hadn’t even recognized it, but you knew now.

“What?” you breathed, eyes flickering to the knife still in her hands.

“I’ve been gone for two months, and she already has you in her grip,” she spat, her lips curling in anger.

“Where did you go?” you blurted. “Why did you disappear?”

A smile stretched at her mouth. “I needed some time adjust my… perspective.” She enunciated the word slowly and sharply as she brought the knife to your bruised throat.

You gasped and flinched when you felt the cold metal lay flat across your skin and then turn so that the point pushed against your flesh, threatening to rip it.

“I used to be so selfless. I avoided you for Vision’s sake, so as to not hurt his precious feelings.” She started dragging the point of the knife down the column of your throat, her breath hissing between her teeth in excitement. “But Nat was still there after he died, so I left. I couldn’t be around if I couldn’t have you still.”

You watched her in terror as she spoke, her wide pupils focused on the way the knife moved across your skin, pressing in but not cutting.

“I sat back and watched. I watched you see her nearly every day. I watched you go to her house for those stupid little movie nights. I watched you sit at home and talk to her on the phone. God, how could you stand listening to her voice that much?”

“Nat was there for me when you weren’t,” you spat, forgetting that she had a knife to the most vulnerable part of your body.

Her eyes shot up at you again, seized with anger. She dragged the knife down to the collar of your shirt as her other hand grabbed a fistful of the fabric, and she started cutting it right off your body. You were reminded that Wanda was not herself now, that she had spent the last two months going insane. You were not safe.

You gasped as Wanda cut right down the fabric of your shirt so easily that it made you realize just how sharp her knife was. She pulled the fabric off your body and threw it down, leaving your upper body entirely naked. She looked down at your chest and seethed.

“You’ve always been so perfect,” she whispered, using her knife to draw a gentle line down your sternum. “I love watching you through the cameras but seeing you in real life is so… fucking… hot.”

She got a little ahead of herself as she dragged the knife down between your breasts, her hand jerking and cutting the skin on the inside of your breast. You shrieked and jumped, feeling tears well up in your eyes and spill down your hot face.

“C-Cameras?” you stuttered, your chest heaving as you breathed through the pain.

Wanda looked up ahead of you, and you tilted your head up to follow her eyes. How could you be so unobservant? In the top corner of your room was a little black circle with a lens, and as your eyes shifted, you saw that every single corner of the room had a little black lens.

“And in every other corner of your apartment, sweet cheeks, as well as Natasha’s.” She laughed at the terror on your face as you realized that you had been watched for weeks on end without even knowing.

Her eyes fell down to your chest where the cut on your breast was bleeding now, gravity tugging a drop of the blood down the center of your stomach. She let out a shuddering, primal growl as she leaned down and brought her lips to the cut.

Your body stiffened as you felt her lips, so close to a sensitive part of your body, kissing the deep cut that started to bleed more. She kissed it again and then ran her tongue over it, moaning at the taste of your blood. It made your face go hot and red as Wanda’s hair tickled your arms, her tongue moving upwards until it swirled around your nipple.

You squealed, thinking about asking her to stop but knowing it was no use, anyway. It scared you the way your body reacted to her, your nipple hardening in her warm mouth as she sucked on it.

She let it go with a pop, coming back up to reveal that her lips and chin were smeared with your blood. You glanced down to see that the breast she had paid attention to had smudges of blood all over it.

“Wanda, please,” you begged. “I’m sorry for whatever you think I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you or—”

A sudden slap to your face stopped you from where you spoke. Your head whipped to the side with the force of the slap, and through the stinging pain of the leathered force you also felt a sharp pain—she had been holding the knife. Warm blood trinkled down your sliced cheek as your flooding tears mixed with it.

“Don’t be so sad, detka,” she purred, taking your chin with hypocritical gentleness and turning your face to look back at her. “You can’t help it you’re a needy slut. I mean, just look at what’s happening. Here I am, cutting you up, and your little pussy is already so wet, isn’t it?”

She rolled her hips forward suddenly, and you felt a hard bulge under the cloak press against your core. The friction made your body shiver, and it was then you realized the wetness between your legs. Wanda grinned widely down at you, looking like a predator with her pearly smile covered in blood.

“Besides, it’s Natasha who stole you from me, and I don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

She looked down at your shorts and started to tug them off, but your eyes widened at her words. “Nat? What did you do to her?!”

“Shhhh…” she shushed you as she peeled your shorts and panties to the floor, leaving you completely naked under her. “Don’t worry, detka. I always clean my knife between kills.” She smirked at you and sat up, kneeling between your open legs.

Your mind raced at thoughts of Natasha—was she dead? Was it your fault? Was Wanda going to kill you, too?

You jumped when you felt the knife dragging across your inner thigh, slicing open your skin that bubbled with more blood. Wanda groaned at the sight, and you felt a mix of relief and fear when she set her knife down on the bed near her hand, far enough out of your reach.

“Just look at you, detka,” she purred as she smeared the blood around on your thigh, the pain vibrating through you. The terror of bloody craze on her face struck a chord inside you that made you both scared and thrilled. “All bloody for me—and so fucking wet.” She moved her eyes to your pussy, using her finger to spread your lips open. Your cheeks burned when you heard the wet sound of your folds moving.

Wanda reached down and grabbed at her crotch, grinning as she leaned back down to you and started kissing the bloody side of your face. “I’ve been waiting so long for you,” she whispered right into your ear, making your skin hot. When her tongue licked up the blood on the side your face, you cringed and whined. She moved her kisses to your neck, biting you with force as she started to grind her hips against you, getting excited.

Your core was throbbing hard as her bulge moved right against you, your knees bending up around her and threatening to spread wider for her. She was putting you under a bloodied haze, and your body was yielding to her. It made you cry harder, but your hand met her shoulder and begged her closer against you.

“Fuck,” she groaned, grinding harder against you. She was breathing heavier now, and when she leaned up to look at you again, there was even more blood on her face. “I want you to watch me fuck you.” She reached down between her legs, and chills ran up your spine as your body tensed in preparation. “I want you to look me in the eyes as I fuck your pussy the way it should be fucked—because it’s mine and you’re mine, and there’s just nothing you can do about that, can you, pretty little doll?”

Your hands grabbed desperately at her arms, words leaving you as your body grew hotter and hotter with desire. She shifted the fabric of her cloak, and pressed herself down against you, her hand still reaching down.

“My pretty little doll,” she breathed as she stared down at you. Suddenly, you felt the tip of something large pressing into you, and suddenly her strap was sliding all the way inside you. You groaned as your walls stretched around her girth, hands grabbing a fistful of her cloak as she buried her cock deep inside you. Wanda only laughed at the look of pain on your face, snapping her hips so that the entirety of her length pushed into you.

“Wanda,” you begged—begged for her to stop, for her to continue, for her to kiss you, for her to let you go—you didn’t know what for.

“Just as tight as I thought you’d be,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as she started to move her hips. You laid under her, legs spread, bloodied and cut up, letting her fuck you right there on her own bed.

“Too big,” you whined when she started moving faster, her strap bulging tightly inside your pussy. She only laughed again.

“Take my cock, detka. Or would you rather take my knife?” She grabbed the knife again and pushed it right against your throat, causing you to screech in fear. “I would like to leave as many cuts on your pretty body as I can, but I think you might not want me to cut right here, would you?”

You wanted to shake your head but quickly decided against it with how hard the knife was pressed to your throat, so you gave a pathetic, “No.”

“Good,” she growled, her free hand grabbing your hip to keep you still as she started fucking you harder. Grunts of pain left your lips and grunts of pleasure left hers as she drove herself inside you over and over again, thrusting her hips upwards to meet that sweet spot inside you just to drive you a little crazier and make your body betray your mind even more.

It was working. The pain faded and pleasure filled in all the cracks as she fucked you. She was groaning like a wild animal, and the sight of your blood on her face made you even more sickeningly turned on.

Keeping the knife on your throat, steadied with her elbow digging into your collarbone, she slipped her hand down between you and started rubbing your clit with her gloved fingers. The leather was painful at first, but as she massaged your clit just right, it started to propel your pleasure.

Disgusting sounds filled your ears. The squeaking of the bed under her forceful thrusts, the wet squelching of your pussy as she filled it with her cock, the sound of her grunting, and the vibrations of your own moans in your throat that you tried your hardest to keep silent.

Wanda took notice of this and pushed the knife harder on your neck. “Go ahead and let it out, baby. I’ve always wanted to hear you scream.”

It came tumbling out of you as you moaned for Wanda, and it encouraged her to fuck you even harder. The blood from the cut on your inner thigh was mixing with your own juices, causing a symphony of wetness and squelching from between your legs as she defiled you.

Pressure built in your lower tummy that bulged from her large strap filling you up. “That’s it. Cum on my cock, detka. Give yourself to me.”

Wanda was close to cumming herself, and it was evident in the way her hips thrust wildly and without rhythm, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“Wanda,” you moaned, grabbing at her as your orgasm started to crash over you. You couldn’t help but scream as your insides quivered around her, her strap still hitting all the right places inside you as you helplessly came.

Wanda grunted and opened her mouth, quickly reaching down and squeezing the base of the strap as she came. In the middle of your climax, you felt her faux cum spill inside you all at once, pumping you full until you could feel it in your lower tummy.

You were blinded by many things—from the shattering orgasm Wanda had just given you, from the blood loss you were enduring, from the fear and terror of the situation. By the time you came down from your high and could see again, Wanda was looking at your throat. In the heat of the moment, she had accidentally cut it just a little—not enough to really hurt you, but enough to make her go even crazier at the mere thought.

You were shaking and panting as Wanda smirked in victory and in malevolence. She looked over to the ghostface mask beside you and picked it up, pulling it on back over her head. She leaned down closer to you, the black eyes of the mask boring into your own as her head tilted.

“Let’s do another round, yeah? This time with the mask on.”

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

7 Snippets 7 People Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @serotoninshift! :D

Here are seven excerpts from various WIPs:

1. Death and the Emperor:

"Go away!" Gialma shouted at it. "Go away and leave me alone!"

He tried to slam the windows. The bird-creature grabbed his hands before he could. It certainly didn't feel like a hallucination. Its grip was real enough, even though it wasn't.

Now that he saw one up close, they didn't look much like birds at all. They looked like normal, if abnormally pale, people with wings. This one was female, and looked disconcertingly like his deceased cousin Varan.

"Gialma?" the creature said. She sounded as surprised as he was. "You can see me?"

He glared at her. Normally he would never glare at anyone but his siblings, but he made an exception for figments of his imagination. "Of course I can see you. You're my hallucination. And I want you and all your friends to leave me alone! Right! Now!"

Gialma tried to pull his hands out of her grip. She let go, then fluttered through the window to land on the carpeted floor. By now he was in a fine rage. As if losing his grip on reality wasn't bad enough, his imagination hadn't even the courtesy to listen to him!

"Get out of my house!"

She paid no attention to him. "You shouldn't be able to see me. You aren't dead, you aren't mad, and you aren't Kilan. So why can you see me?"

Gialma felt a headache form. He was not going to argue with something that wasn't there. "Please, just go away."

The creature sat down on the windowseat and stared at him. "You don't know who I am."

"You're proof that I've lost my mind," he said wearily, half-sitting and half-falling into the nearest chair.

She shook her head. "I'm Varan. Don't you remember me? I'm your cousin!"

Why would he imagine his cousin was haunting him? They hadn't been close. "Varan has been dead for seven years."

Not-Varan nodded. "Dying wasn't a pleasant experience, but I got used to it quickly."

"Really." By now Gialma had lost all hope of ever being rid of this hallucination. "And now you're a ghost."

She made a noise suspiciously like a suppressed giggle. "No, there are no such things as ghosts. I'm a Reaper. That means I help Death collect souls."

He nodded absently, hardly listening to anything she said.

Not-Varan stared at him thoughtfully. "You still think I'm a hallucination."

"Of course," Gialma said. He buried his head in his hands. "This is just what I needed."

Someone grabbed him and pulled him out of his chair. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself in mid-air, hovering at least six feet above the floor. Not-Varan's arm around his chest was all that held him up.

"Oh yes," she said dryly. "A hallucination can carry you up here and keep you from falling." They descended to the floor far more quickly than Gialma would have liked. A beat of not-Varan's wings slowed them down just before they landed, and created a strong gust of wind that knocked over several empty bookcases. "And a hallucination overturned those."

2. The Brave Tin Soldiers Fall:

Kilan read the important reports, glanced over the less serious ones, and ignored the trivial ones. Occasionally he found a story so utterly bizarre that he could hardly believe it was true. The on-going saga of some aspiring artist painting all the houses in a certain neighbourhood, without the house-owners' consent, was strange enough to be entertaining. But this was just ridiculous.

"Am I reading this wrong?" he asked.

Nadriet looked up from the book she was reading and sighing over. (She'd said it was a story about a woman who started her own restaurant. Kilan had his doubts. He'd never thought a book about restaurants could cause a reader to sigh and giggle so much.) At first she blinked at him with a bemused expression that implied she hadn't quite heard what he said.

It was Kilan's turn to sigh. A rather more exasperated sigh than any of Nadriet's, it must be said.

"I have read this letter twice and I still can't believe it," he said slowly and distinctly. Like all older siblings he was instinctively convinced that his younger siblings were little more than idiots who needed everything explained to them. Nadriet's behaviour today was doing nothing to make him think otherwise. "Read it and see what you can make of it."

Nadriet put her book down with very bad grace and a muffled huff. "What is it now? Some new nonsense from the High Council?"

"If only," Kilan muttered. He promptly did a double take, because how had his life reached a point where he wished the High Council was all he had to deal with? Where they would actually be an improvement on what he faced instead? "I think the chief of police has gone mad. Did you ever see any ghosts in Gialma's house?"

His sister blinked owlishly at him. "Ghosts? Gialma? Of course not! Well, there was that time the main doors opened and closed by themselves. But it happened on a windy day. I don't think ghosts had anything to do with it. What are you talking about?"

Kilan held out the letter again. She took it and scanned over it. He waited. He could see the exact moment she realised what she was reading. Her eyebrows flew up and her mouth opened slightly. When she reached the end she went back to the beginning. Finally she set the letter down. She was silent for several minutes. At last she spoke.

"What the hell?"

My thoughts exactly, Kilan thought with a grim smile.

Nadriet continued talking, with the air of someone who felt the world no longer made sense. "I can understand the break-in. It makes sense. Thieves looking for valuable things to steal would go to the richest house they can find. Where better than a prince's house? But... to blame it on walking corpses?"

3. The Brave Tin Soldiers Fall:

Very few people can be calm, cool and collected while someone is holding a knife at their throat. In fact, very few people and even fewer teenagers are noted for their ability to be calm, cool and collected at any time. Not even under the least stressful circumstances. Kiroshony was certainly not one of them.

She froze. For over a minute she didn't even dare to breathe. The knife pressed against her throat with enough force to cut through the skin. A thin trickle of something wet ran down her neck. Only the fear of accidentally driving the knife deeper stopped her from struggling to get free.

"Don't move or I'll kill you."

Her attacker's voice sounded right next to her ear. Instinctively she tried to shy away. She only just stopped herself in time. It never occurred to her to wonder why she could understand his words. She'd never made any study of Malishese, nor had she specifically wished to learn it.

Kiroshnoy's mouth had gone so dry that she couldn't answer. She tried to swallow. At once she regretted it. The knife sliced a hair's breadth deeper as her throat muscles moved. The trickle of blood flowed faster. It was already soaking the collar of her shirt.

The person behind her moved round to stand in front of her. They never loosened their grip on the knife. All they did was turn it around and move it from the side to the front of her throat. She stared up at them, too frightened even to try using her powers. Never before had she wished so devoutly that the assassins had given her a weapon.

Until now she'd assumed whoever had caught her was a guard on patrol. Now that she saw him she blinked in confusion. He looked like a servant. No armour, no sword, no helmet, not even proper clothes. Unless she was much mistaken he was wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown.

What in the world? Have I been caught by the palace madman?

That would make her situation both less and more serious. No one would believe a lunatic who claimed to have caught an intruder. But a lunatic was more likely to kill her on the spot instead of handing her over to be questioned.

She stared him in the eye, both trying to guess at his intentions and in an attempt at defiance, putting on a show of not being afraid. When she got a good look at him she almost gaped. He was barely any older than she was! At most perhaps he was eighteen. His eyes were so large they seemed out of proportion to the rest of his face. In daylight they might have made him look younger and more innocent. In the middle of the night, lit only by the glow her powers had conjured, they made him look eerie and not entirely there. Like a ghost in a stage show, human from a distance but increasingly unreal when seen closer.

Don't be ridiculous, she told herself before she could get carried away with foolish notions about ghosts and restless spirits. It's just a trick of the light.

The young man returned her stare just as intently and with rather more hostility. "You aren't Malishese. Not Carannish either." That was stating the obvious to such an extent that Kiroshnoy didn't see any reason to answer. "Before you claim you're a saint or a god, let me remind you you're dressed as a peasant. So who are you and what are you doing here?"

In hindsight claiming she was a supernatural being would have been a good idea. She could have neatly explained away the light and her presence here with some gibberish that sounded profound. But her captor just had to think of that before she did. Kiroshnoy could have kicked herself for not having an excuse ready.

Well, he had said not to claim she was a saint or a god...

"I'm from the fifth star in the northernmost galaxy," she said. Her mind spun together her fairy-tale as she spoke. "Tomorrow is the birthday of the--" For a minute she couldn't think of anything suitably ludicrous, "--of the high queen of the nebulae. I fell asleep on my way to her castle and crash-landed on this planet. Now if you'll let me go, I'll be on my way again."

4. Like Snow on Hungry Graves:

Oddly, there was no other boat towing hers. The tide was just starting to go out yet she was travelling against it towards the land. Ketevan looked back over her shoulder just to make sure no one had climbed on-board while she slept or the boat hadn't magically started rowing itself. Then she leant over the side to investigate.

One of the ropes that had been used to hold the boat to the ship was still attached to its bow. It disappeared under the water, but it was taut as if something was pulling it. When she squinted she could just make out a dark shape below the water. Whatever it was, in its movements it resembled nothing so much as an overgrown eel.

Ketevan's instinctive reaction was shocked horror. A monster was dragging her back to its den! Common sense took over almost at once. Why would a monster drag her towards a beach instead of further out to sea? There were no caves or cliffs here for it to hide among.

She sat back and thought things over. No matter where she was, she couldn't have drifted far in one night. She'd been heading away from Vakaryan. Therefore the land ahead of her was either Çarisar or southern Sui.

Of course there were tales of strange sea creatures in the Blood Water, but no one had ever seen any since the last merfolk disappeared centuries ago. If any of the merfolk had come back it would have been known all over the world by now. Their scales were considered the most beautiful and valuable material on the planet, and they had been hunted almost to extinction by people who wanted to harvest their scales. Even if any merfolk were still around they would want nothing to do with a human boat.

Ketevan peered over the side again. The boat was rapidly approaching the shore. The water was cloudy so she still couldn't get a clear view of the eel-like creature, but she was almost sure it had scales. She could see the light glinting off them.

A dragon, perhaps? Not a zimej from the northern mountains; they breathed fire and reportedly hated water. But the merong from the seas east of Sui were said to live in water and occasionally help people lost at sea.

The rope went slack. The boat stopped abruptly. It lay motionless for long enough to make Ketevan begin to wonder if the mysterious eel-like creature had left. She looked over the side. Black shapes moved beneath the surface. Then she realised they were only seaweed.

A hand grabbed the boat's side. Ketevan recoiled with a yelp. It was a human's hand, but with webbing between the fingers and strangely sharp, pointed nails. The skin was dead white with hints of blue and green. Horrible ideas of drowned people returning as ghosts filled her mind. She reached for the nearest oar. Then all thoughts of ghosts disappeared, because another hand joined the first one and their owner pulled themselves up so they could see into the boat.

No living human had ever seen a mer. The only surviving evidence of their existence was in the drawings in historical documents and the jewellery made from their iridescent scales. But Ketevan had seen enough of those drawings to know what they looked like. They had gills at their neck, patches of scales on their face, upper arms, and torso frilly fins along their arms and back, and below the waist they had a long tail like a fish's.

The person staring at her over the boat's side looked as if he had stepped right out of those drawings.

Two things flashed through Ketevan's mind in an instant. One, there were still merfolk in the Blood Water. Two, one had just dragged her boat to the shore.

5. Totentanz:

The gates and walls on the other side of the courtyard blurred and shifted. Gradually they faded away. The air pulled apart like a curtain. Karandren stared through into the Óhreinnjǫrð.

At first it was a confusion of colours that didn't exist on this side of the Veil. Shapes moved at the corners of the opening. Gradually it resolved itself into a square space. Calling it a "room" suggested it had furniture and served a purpose. This didn't look like anything of the sort. Karandren wasn't sure if it even had walls.

In the middle of the space, staring directly at him, was a figure he recognised from Diarnlan's story.

Karandren grinned, showing all his teeth. "Hello. Vanadel, isn't it?"

The figure inclined its head, less as if it was answering him and more as if it was copying a gesture it had seen somewhere without really understanding it. No human could put their head completely on one side like that. Not even Karandren could do it. He felt mildly unsettled. Which was saying something, considering the things he had seen and done over his lifetimes.

"Were you waiting for me to do this or did I tear open the Veil in your living room?" he asked, curious in spite of himself.

Vanadel's face didn't move. Nor did his voice have any emotion when he replied. "I have been watching you all the time. When you created this gateway I directed it here."

Karandren tried not to think too deeply about this... person spying on him all the time. "Why exactly are you so interested in us?"

For once there was a hint of emotion in Vanadel's voice. Surprise and bemusement, but better than nothing. Karandren had met several other half-humans and none of them had been as weird as this one. Either it was the result of whatever species his non-human parent was or of being raised in the Óhreinnjǫrð. Possibly Vanadel was naturally just a very strange person.

"Do you really not know? You realised it today. Your magic has found a very unusual way of keeping you alive. I am interested in unusual things."

"So just because we got stuck in this time-loop -- which neither of us wants, by the way, and we'd be much happier if we could find a way to get out of it -- you decided to spy on us and send your monsters to kill us?"

Vanadel shook his head slowly. "No. The monsters came first. Do you remember your first lifetime?"

"Not really," Karandren said with an attempt at flippancy that he didn't really feel. "They all blur together."

"That was when the -- what do you call them? The sha-kroy-shel?"

It took Karandren a minute to realise he was attempting to pronounce "skrýszel".

Vanadel continued without waiting for an answer. "In your first lifetime the sha-kroy-shel owners decided to set their pets loose in your country and bet on how far they would get. Your friend has already told you this."

"We're not friends," Karandren said automatically.

6. The Power and the Glory:

Somehow or other Lian had found a board game in the spaceport -- though Irímé suspected he had actually teleported away somewhere to get it -- and when Shizuki woke up the three of them played a round. None of them were quite sure of the rules or why some pieces were shaped like mice and others like fish, so they treated it as if it was a game of langhar.

Within minutes what had started as a way to pass the time became an intense battle. Any onlooker would have assumed that vast sums of money rested on the outcome of the game, from how carefully the three of them considered each move.

Shizuki picked up one of his pieces and moved it in front of Lian's. "You're out!"

Lian shook his head. "Not yet. I still have two more pieces."

Irímé moved one of his pieces in front of both Shizuki's and another of Lian's. "One more piece."

Shizuki picked up two pieces at a time and placed one in front of Irímé's and the other in front of Lian's remaining piece. "You're both out!"

"That's against the rules," Irímé objected.

"What rules?"

"The rules we agreed on. We said we can only move one piece at a time."

Shizuki stuck his tongue out. "Doesn't matter. We didn't write it down so it doesn't count."

"Oh yes I did." Irímé took his notebook out of his pocket. He flipped to the page where he'd written their makeshift rules. "See for yourself."

Shizuki scowled and folded his arms. "Still doesn't matter. "

The argument would have continued in that vein, but came to an abrupt halt when they heard the sound of a door closing. At once they all froze. Footsteps crossed the hall, heading directly towards them. Irímé looked nervously to Lian for guidance.

"I don't think it's a monster. They walk more slowly," Lian said.

The door opened.

"I have good news and bad news," Abi announced as if she was continuing a conversation started a few minutes ago. "The good news is, I found a place we can lure them to. The bad news is, it's about two miles away. And the monsters become more active as the sun sets. On my way back here I saw a crowd of them crawl out of the city hall as soon as the light stopped shining on the doorway. And I didn't see any survivors." She saw the appalled look on Irímé's face and quickly tried to make things slightly better. "That doesn't mean there aren't any! I just didn't see them!"

Lian went to the window. "Did you see any monsters heading this way?"

"No. But I thought that if there are any around, it would be better to call them here than let them wander around the city. We can kill them as soon as they walk in."

"Good idea," Lian said, to Irímé's horror.

"What do you mean, good idea? Shizuki's here!"

"But we can barricade him into this room so the monsters can't get anywhere near him."

"I don't wanna be left out!" Shizuki complained. "I can kill monsters too!"

"You most certainly will not," Irímé said grimly. It looked like Shizuki was still going to protest, so he added, "Just think of what your father would say." Shizuki fell silent, but he still looked mutinous. Irímé continued in a resigned voice, "I still think this is a terrible idea. But if anything will dissuade the monsters from attacking at all, it'll be a dragon. And I might as well turn into a dragon now."

7. The Unfortunate Moth:

Yo-han took out another telegram. "Her business partner appears to be a... I don't know if 'gangster' is quite the right word, but certainly an unscrupulous businessman. He is suspected of hiring an assassin to kill a reporter who annoyed him. But what assassin would travel half-way across the world to kill someone? I contacted an acquaintance in Hong Kong who assures me no assassins there have been hired by foreigners lately, and he certainly can't have hired an Australian one."

"Do you want an answer or are you just talking to yourself?" Király wanted to know.

Miss Patton's mind moved along the same tracks as Yo-han's. "The murderer must have been hired in Britain but was already planning to go to Australia. Or he was paid enough to make the trip worth his while."

Yo-han nodded. "Who on the ship has plenty of money?"

"The people in first class," Miss Patton suggested.

Király scowled. "That bast— sorry. That loathsome creature Tremaine. Did you hear the racket he made this morning?"

Yo-han wisely decided not to mention his part in that. "Playing loud music without regard for the neighbours does not necessarily mean a man is rich."

"No, but the way he bought free drinks for everyone yesterday does. He said he's some American film producer and one of his films is a success. I don't believe it. A producer travelling in second class?" Király rolled his eyes at the very idea.

"Anyway, the assassin must have got to the ship after us," Miss Patton said. "He would have killed Aunt in Hong Kong if we were still in the hotel when he got there. I've never seen Tremaine so I don't know when he arrived. Mr. Colman and the doctor were at the hotel with us, and Mr. Colman was on the train with us before that."

Király looked surprised. "Was he? I never noticed."

Miss Patton nodded. "He got off somewhere in Russia. Yesterday he showed me the photos he took of the place where he stopped. Lots of mountains and forests and old churches. But about the murderer, I think he must have meant to kill Aunt in the hotel and had to change his plans at the last minute. It just doesn't make sense to do something like saw through a wall unless you're desperate and running out of time. So find out who bought their ticket right before sailing and I think we'll have found the murderer."

Yo-han got up. "I have one last thing to investigate. In about an hour I'll speak to the captain and summon both of you — and a few other people — to a meeting. Then I'll reveal who the murderer is."

He stared very hard at a drawing taped to the wall. "Excuse me, Miss Patton, is that from Mr. Colman?"

Miss Patton blushed slightly as she looked at it. "Yes. He said he couldn't get any real flowers, so he drew some for me."

"What sort of flowers are they?"

Unexpectedly it was Király who answered. "Lilies of the valley, tulips, orchids, and I think those are meant to be hyacinths." Yo-han and Miss Patton both gave him surprised looks. It was his turn to blush. "Vi likes flowers."

Tagging @theimperiumchronicles, @writernopal, @oh-no-another-idea, @winterandwords, @elshells, @harps-for-days, @ashen-crest, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D

[bltzgore]

Space Vandals Ch. 1

Tw: gore, strong language (I LOVE to swear), there is whump at the end (but this is the first chapter so I need to build some world first), wound description, race/speciesisim

Guardian drew the knives from her belt. One a Rorawkin blade, composed of their four strongest metals, it was borderline indestructible. These blades were forged in the fires of their sun and took a mastercraftsman to mold properly into a fine blade. The other was more common but equally as deadly in the right hands. It was an Arithian dagger, made of a specialized gemstone they had perfected growing in their labs. It resembled a dark glass, but if one held it to the light they’d see it was actually a very dark red. They were known to be the sharpest blades this side of four galaxies, and capable of slicing through metal up to three inches thick if one wielded it correctly.

Had it still been light out Guardian surely would have chosen her pistols to start this off, but the low light levels and her dark plating made it hard to see where she ended and the night began. The red markings gave her away, but she didn’t have any on her arms. They wouldn’t be able to tell where her weapons were. They didn’t know where to defend from, and she realized halfway through taking the fourth guard’s head off they were grossly inexperienced for thugs. They moved so stiffly, that when they missed landing their own strikes on her they’d be churning and stumbling like a fooled bull. Guardian was light on her feet, everything felt fluid. She brought one blade through the terminal vein in one guard’s neck, she launched another into the chest of a thug raising his gun, one of the only who seemed to even have them. The organization must have been in a bit of a rut, fortunately that wouldn’t be their problem for much longer.

They were all reduced to husks on the ground, dead or dying, as Guardian headed up the stairs and changed her modus operandi. When moving into territory she had never seen, potentially plunging right into battle, she decided to play it practical. She switched back to her guns. She pulled them from their clip on her lower back, where their muzzles interlocked for convenient storage. They glowed gently in the low light, not as dull as her markings but dull enough that she didn’t use it to see. But she didn’t need it to see in this form. 

Upon slipping inside it was strangely quiet. It wasn’t like she had expected the empirical army, but she was sure there were supposed to be upward of twenty, at least. There weren’t. There was not a thug to be found anywhere in her sector. Where were they? They didn’t have time for this. She pressed the sort of button that made up the outer portion of her audio sensors, “Manny, status?” He responded within seconds. “Occupied! Damnit, what!?”

Guardian kept her head on a swivel, “How many you guys find?” 

Shep answered this time, “Looks like everybody.”

So that was why she hadn’t gotten any action. “Where’s Scout?” Guardian asked.  

“With them!” The robot’s softer voice answered twice as quickly, “trying not to get shot.”   

“Get him past the blockade. There’s no time for fucking around.” Guardian complained.

“The hell you think I’m tryin’a do?” Manny snapped. 

“Eta two minutes.” Guardian rumbled, her inner components already beginning to shift. 

The mechanized shapeshifter’s limbs blurred around the edges. The almost microscopic building blocks of them releasing and finding new ties, picking just how to rearrange themselves. She thinned, like she was a wad of silly putty and someone was pulling her to see just how far she’d stretch, turning lanky and boney. Sprouting off her head were massive horns, some met themselves like a halo, others rose like wild stag’s or a strike of lightning. She reached out her limbs towards the ground and they grew, long, sharp, strong. A tail-like structure joined them, connecting all the way up the back to the base of the neck. Her head was bladed and full of things that had to be teeth. Once her second set of forelimbs touched down she started moving. 

“No, we got this.” Shep insisted. 

She chose not to answer over the coms, but they wouldn’t have understood it anyway. The native vernacular happened reflexively, “ᎷᏗᏒᏬᏂᏗᏋ.” Meaning: too late, it sounded like a series of clicks, almost whistles, and peeling snake shed.

“Guardian, you inbound?” Manny demanded confirmation. 

So this time she had to click the com and answer, slowing her gate in order to do so. She stumbled through the answer, only managing the S sound.

She burst through the last dividing door with a cry that would have peeled the skin off an Onnarow. As Guardian began ripping into whatever unfortunate thugs she could reach, a gun blast shattered the head of her very next target. Shep jogged over, reloading as he ran, tagging two more before he reached her side. “I said we had this.” He grumbled. 

She fumbled with her mandibles for a moment, trying to get them to use the right language, “ᏂᎧᏬᏇ ᏖᏂᏒᏗᏇ.” No that wasn’t it. She pulled the exterior of her jaw structure back and attempted to manipulate what existed there in place of a tongue. Her words were slightly sharp around the vowels, but she managed it. “I kno-ow. N-ee-d be fa-st.” She wrenched the head of another thug off its shoulders, showering her shiny gray “skin” in the poor fucker’s blood-like fluids. He had been Mukavian, so it wasn’t red, more like translucent orange. 

“Ma-ke p-ath f-or Scou-t.” Her mandibles made direction three times as difficult to get across, Manny understood it best but even he knew maybe four words in this form’s native dialect. Luckily her crew had learned to work around it.

“You got it, boss.” Shep rolled his shoulders, “I’ll take the ones on the right, and you take everyone else?”

She nodded visibly, she would have smirked if her form allowed. She ran forward, giving that horrendous screech again, it wasn’t just a battle cry. Some species were sensitive enough to sound that the wail alone nearly disabled them. Inconveniently, these guys were not a mix of such species. So raw violence it was. 

“Te-ll h-im!” She managed through the com, digging her claws into another thug. 

“Scout! You’ve got an in! Get your ass over here!” Shep barked over the channel. 

“Right, right! On it!” The almost insectoid scouting droid came bounding down from his vantage point where he had been furiously launching and calling back his throwing blades. They were kind of like shurikens, just modded a bit. They were X’s with ends all bent the same direction almost the size of dinner plates. The massive pinwheels of death returned the instant his gauntlets gave the specialized magnetic signal. 

Scout sprinted past Guardian, giving her a slight wave as he slid beneath a thug’s attempt to hit him with some sort of metal pipe. Using his hands, he sprang up to his feet and continued running all in one string of easy movements. 

He tore away from the brawl in what had possibly once been the mess hall. He knew exactly where he was going, turning on a dime, switching hallways, following the fun little maze map in his head. Scout reached a door that didn’t open automatically upon sensing him and he swung back against his momentum, into a slide. He slowed enough, the impact hardly registered. He straightened up, sensors scanning and locking onto a data module. They varied world to world, but not so much when they were all still using written language, just different keyboards or interfaces for different physical requirements. The inhabitants of this world favored two hands, luckily. Scout wasn’t great with the triple or quadruple keyboards, and he didn’t even know where to start with the extra-sensory ones.

A brief fit of tapping and the door slid open reluctantly. He jogged through, attention immediately drawn to the first pedestal. It was guarded by a blue wall of energy, not quite a plasma shield, definitely not a light shield, that shit got expensive quick. It was something probably equally as painful, but thirty-times easier to get through if you knew the trick. These shields were mostly made of very angry particles, but they could be pacified if you had the right material, a material Scout just so happened to have an entire glove made of. He stretched it over his hand, all the way up past the mid-arm joint, and reached in. The shield sparked, light leaping off the glove, he yelped and scrambled back. 

Trying to calm his voice, he tapped his com, “Manny?”

“Ugh, what is it, kid?” At least he didn’t sound too busy.

“The glove sparked, I-I’m not sure-”

“It’s working fine, grow a pair and shove your hand through it.”

“Got it.” Scout approached again, cautiously. Slowly he held his hand out, it slid in up to his palm before the light jumped off the shield at him again. He turned his head away and moved quicker. He felt twitchy, stinging, things crawling across his plating, but he didn’t back down this time. He turned back to it just in time to close his hand on the small metallic stick. He yanked back and as soon as his hand was free he started running. 

“I got it! I got it! Objective secure!” He remembered the terminology with the third iteration. 

“Good work Scout, get to the back exit. We’ll meet you where we started.” Manny answered. He took his hand off his com, turning his attention fully back to the fight, when an entire table came flying through the air above his head. It split the wall, and stayed suspended there, like a dart in its target. Upon closer inspection it had also halved what looked like this gang’s bruiser. He glanced back across the room towards where the projectile had come from. He gave Guardian a nod. “This is why I’ve never asked you on a date,” He snarked over the coms, getting a familiar chitter-click-whistle in response. 

_

One might think it hard to entertain yourself when your whole family is full of badass rebel fighters constantly going out on various missions doing undisclosed but probably shady stuff that they won’t give you a straight answer about in case the authorities come around. That might have been true if Deon didn’t have Wyatt. Deon wanted to join the rest of his family, of course! Who wouldn’t want to get in on sticking it to the Vet-ring? He knew Wyatt did too. They talked about it all the time, and had on more than one occasion tried to follow covertly. It never worked. They probably should have been more bummed about it than they were, what kept them from feeling the disappointment were their own little missions. 

“Clear!” Wyatt chirped over their walkie talkies. They had decided taking ops gear out on their missions wasn’t a good idea after the one time it didn’t come back from a cop’s evidence locker. They had gotten chewed out for that one.

Deon sunk his claws into the lock, they slowly shifted the mechanisms, metal clicked and the structure was forced to turn. He felt the door’s bar withdraw, and stood up, “Got it.” Deon shoved the door open. He looked down the block, waiting for Wyatt to make eye contact before motioning to follow him. The techno-organic jogged over, a slight bounce to his step. It wasn’t unusual, he never really held completely still, even when sitting, though he claimed he didn’t even know he was doing it. 

The shop’s lights were out, Wyatt reached for the switch when Deon stopped him, “Want to let everyone know we’re here?”

“Won’t it look sketchier if people see two figures wandering around this place in the dark?”

“Don’t get seen then.” Deon warned.

Wyatt shrugged, “Your party, my eyes are just fine either way.” He rooted through the bag strapped across his torso, pulling small spheres from it, just larger than marbles. He held them out to Deon, “Ready for some redecorating?”  

Deon’s scowl withered, and he snatched them, mouth breaking into a toothy, lightly malicious, grin, “Hell yeah.”

They split, each taking opposite walls. Wyatt fished a red, glassy, marble from the bag and raised his hand. Wyatt threw down the marble, as soon as it hit the floor he was engulfed in a cloud of what seemed like red smoke. He didn’t cough, he didn't need to breathe, he wasn’t all organic. However his organic side could, it gave him a serious boost in energy. What sucked about it was that in order to stop he had to lower his energy consumption enough to shift back to his reserves. Luckily he hadn’t needed any boosts on the way over here. No breathing necessary to keep up with Deon this time, so he only turned vibrant red on the outside. He waved the thicker part of the cloud from his visual sensor array and fished another marble from his bag, laughing and leaping into the next one.

On the other side of the room Deon was running the length of the wall, throwing paint marbles against it and the shelves of products that lined it. He was quick enough to keep just ahead of the bursts, they painted the edge of his jacket and his tail a mix of vibrant colors, pink, neon green, blue bright enough to make the sky jealous. Deon pulled up his ventilator to keep the paint fumes and smoke out of his lungs, the second eyelids slid up to keep the particles out of his eyes. He didn’t swim all that often these days but he had found other uses for them.    

Deon looked back at Wyatt, he gave the ceiling a quick glance then nodded up to it. The shop had at one point, like many buildings, been a warehouse of some kind, so the roof went higher than one would think necessary for a convenience store. Wyatt smirked, “Go for it.” He interlocked his fingers and crouched slightly. Deon got a running start, and stepped up into Wyatt’s hands. The techno stood and threw his hands up through the strain.

 Deon cleared five feet vertically, latching on to one of the lingering chains that connected up to the roof. He climbed until he could get a grip on the chain with his feet too, then he swung. Deon released the chain with his upper half. His nails caught the edge of the hanging light and for a second he was an uncomfortable bridge between the fixture and the chain, as he decided whether or not to trust the light with his full weight. He gave it a once over, the light was a pie tin looking thing strung from the ceiling by a thick black cord. There were no worrying sounds yet.

He unhooked the claws on his hind legs from the chain, swinging with the light, using the momentum, flipping his legs up over the light. Deon curled his tail around the cord then hooked a leg around, letting the cable rest in the crook of his knee. The fixture swung slightly, but held. Deon pulled a marker from his pocket, closing his teeth on the cap and tugging it off. Skillfully he started to scribe, in black out paint marker, a choice word dead center on light. 

Wyatt called up to him, “Whatchu writing up there D?” 

“You’ll see.” He muttered. “Finish up the walls, I’m gonna do the rest of the lights.” There were three others, it wouldn’t take long.

Wyatt grinned, “Yessir.” He pulled another item from the bag. They were almost gloves, in that they wrapped around his palms and had a single miniature sleeve that ran out to his thumb. At the center of the fabric was a dull ring of silver. Connected under his wrist were tubes that ran into the bag, he fussed with it for a moment before hearing it click. He turned back to the wall, blinking a few times, drawing the image in his mind. Once he was confident he raised his hands to the wall and shifted his thumb, the spray paint nozzle hissing a stream of black paint.

When Deon landed back on the floor he was very proud of himself. He looked up and the walls were criss-crossed in letters from two different languages. They were hybrid words that taggers sort of developed on their own. Each word was sort of a puzzle unless you spoke the two languages fluently to begin with. Wyatt knew these words, Deon knew some of them, part of why he left the walls up to Wyatt most of the time. 

As the techno-organic wandered over, brushed in most noticeably white and black, Deon asked, “What’s it say?”

“Motharay, neahamaka.” Wyatt read off. Then turned to the other wall, “Hutharay meeharakah.” 

“Which means?”

“Machines have souls, in really really short terms.”

“All that for two words?” 

“Well that, and ‘fuck you racist prick.’”  

Deon nodded approvingly, “Art.”

“What you put on the lights?”

Deon stepped over to the lightswitch, flipping it on. Projected onto the ground in somehow smooth text “Eat a Dick Douche Canoe.” All of the words had their own light, except for “eat” and “a” being forced to share.

“Perfect.” Wyatt grinned. 

Deon found himself distracted by his watch, shit! They were gonna be late! He bolted to life, turning the lights back off and heading for the door, “Come on!”

“What!? Why? Did you hear something?” Wyatt followed, momentarily holding his breath trying to hear it too.

Once they were both back outside Deon carefully locked the door before dragging it closed. “We’re gonna be late to dinner!” He hissed, pulling the door shut until it clicked. 

Wyatt’s eyes widened, oh… yeah. That. “Think we can make it across this dump in fifteen minutes?”

“Naw,” Deon muttered, “We can make it in ten.”

_

Shep was about to head inside to the table with the other three when two slightly grimy figures came sprinting out of the sketchiest alleyway they could have possibly managed. Deon pulled ahead by a small but noticeable amount, sliding to a stop in front of the cyborg. His words came out between pants, “We’re- here!” He managed. Wyatt stopped just behind him, nodding furiously, as he also caught his breath. 

“You two are something else. Come on,” He motioned, leading them into the restaurant, to the table.

Sitting on one side of the table were Shep and Scout. Scout was a robot, through and through, with long legs that had multiple joints and very powerful springs. He was built for running and jumping. Shep used to be a Marcharin, then he got torn up under “mysterious circumstances” (adult code for it was traumatic) and was turned into a cyborg to keep functioning. He was somewhat average in limb number and function, but his face had been… well Deon didn’t know, but he assumed it had been damaged pretty badly. There had to have been a reason it got replaced with a visor like screen. Several of the traditional Marcharin feather spines had been replaced with metal prosthetics, pretty close to their natural texture but Shep wouldn’t be shedding these seasonally.   

Wyatt was quick to steal the spot next to Shep, that left Deon with the unenviable spot right next to the two oldest on the team, specifically the one who would notice the paint on his tail. On Deon’s side were Guardian and Manny. Manny was a Rovaden, a tall one. Which meant he had ashen skin in most places where it wasn’t almost ink colored, like on his jaw that opened all the way to the edges of his face if he let it. They had only ever seen Manny open his mouth all the way once when yawning, it was fucking terrifying. He had no discernible nose and eyes that slowly changed shades of red like a mood ring. Aside from that he was pretty normal for a humanoid. Bipedal, two forelimbs and two hind limbs, more than two digits on his hands and all that. 

Then there was Guardian. She didn’t have one true form. There were a few she preferred, but any way that she chose to appear was one she had studied and stolen from a true member of the species. She currently chose a creature somewhere between shark and canine. It had rough shark skin, though that could have been a natural effect of what she was composed of, but had a very smooth canine looking head, with rather large ears. Past that things got a little strange. Down the front of the torso were three almost V shaped markings, Deon knew they were nothing so mundane. Her back was many-jointed, but not in the traditional spinal column way, it was more like a series of ball and socket joints. Her pupils were the only part of her eyes that looked alive, a glowing ring of red. This was one Deon saw her “put on” before going out to do some damage.

As soon as Deon sat down, Guardian was sniffing with that canine snout. “Why do you smell like paint?” Then looked a little closer at the long, blue and white, reptilian tail that Deon was trying to keep out of her field of view. “Never mind, answered my own question. It’s because you’re covered in it.” This was less of an observation and more of a demand for an immediate explanation. 

“We…” Wyatt answered for him, or tried. Ultimately just stretching it out, as he fished for any good excuse. 

Deon huffed, “We tagged the store that that racist bitch owns.” 

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” Manny deadpanned.

“The one who called Scout a slur.” Deon clarified.

Scout sat up a little straighter, “Really?” but he didn’t ask with enough force to be heard over Guardian beginning her lecture-fest. 

“Were you seen?”

“No.” Deon sounded half defensive, half offended. 

“Not that you know of, you mean.” She warned. “I told you guys, I don’t want you doing this while we’re on Yuk-taka.”

Wyatt tried to take some of the heat off Deon, “It’s just like every other backwater planet we’ve been on this year. Why not?”

Shep interjected, “Yeah, don’t crush the creativity.”

“Because we’re in enemy territory.” Guardian almost growled. 

Manny rolled his eyes, “Mellowdrama aside, Guardian is right. We’re in the heart of Vet-ring controlled space, do you know what that means?”

Wyatt and Deon exchanged confused glances, making sure they held it long enough for Guardian to see it, before turning towards Shep or Scout for a hint that didn’t have time to appear. 

“It means they’re in close communication with this planet's law enforcement.” Guardian continued, “If they catch you and connect you to us they will demand answers, and they’ll get them, no matter what they have to do.”  

Deon felt like the air had been chilled in his lungs. He did his best to just keep breathing normally. 

Guardian must have seen the stutter anyway. She sighed, “Look, I don’t want to scare you with this, but I need you to take it seriously. Ok?”

Deon nodded, so did Wyatt. 

“Got it.” Wyatt confirmed. 

“No more stupid stunts on Yuk-taka.” Deon agreed, nodding for exaggerated effect. 

“Well, now that you know not to do it again…” Manny glanced at Guardian, and slowly started to smile, “What did you tag in the shop?”

Deon urged Wyatt to go first, thinking the nuance of some of the things he had tagged might soften Guardian’s reaction. He was right, because by the time he started talking about his part in it, the food had arrived and Guardian couldn’t hide her sharp-toothed grin, or her pride, any longer. She loved when they pulled shit like that. It was why she didn’t try to stop them outright, she just wanted them to be smart about it. Besides, it was good training for when they eventually got out in the field with the rest of the team.

 _

The walk back to the apartment was quieter than usual. No slurs or comments on their mixed species group. Deon chalked it up to Guardian’s form, creatures tended to clam up when anything with more than two large mouths was in the vicinity. She seemed to have all four opened and showing their teeth casually, though Deon could see right through that. It was difficult to notice in Guardian, because she changed shape and the signs changed with it, but she was tense. He couldn’t be positive of it’s exact source, from what Shep and the others had said the missions had been clean. Was she still wired about their stunt? That someone might have seen them, or something? Deon didn’t know enough about what was happening to deduce it. The only surefire way would be to ask, but he realized he wouldn’t know what to say even if she gave him an honest answer. 

Guardian wasn’t always stressed, but he had been noticing it more and more lately. When she was in mode 3 it manifested as occasional panting without exercise present and twitchy ears. He assumed it was getting worse because of their proximity to- Manny had made them promise to keep it to themselves that he had told them about this. They were sure they had covered his ass pretty well at dinner- the Vet-ring lieutenants; there were four on world in critical positions of power. If they found out the group was here they would drop everything to catch them.   

The Vet-ring were the ultimate race. They could live for eons and beyond, effectively immortal. They were immune to all but highly specialized weapons. Each and every one was trained to kill with precision and power. And on top of it most were wildly intelligent. There were plenty of races who could boast some of these attributes, but what gave them the ultimate edge was what they physically were. They were composed of tiny metal components, neither machine nor biological, each acting in accordance with millions of others, reproducing like cells, and working together like robots. These components were controlled by the creature’s central brain which according to all prior tests was made up of some kind of energy.

One might expect a creature made of millions of pieces of metal to just be a sentient pile of sand, or puddle of goo. There were races like that, but the Ring could control their components to the point that they could mimic any form that they studied, some even so well as to copy arcane and natural powers or skills seen in these species. A killer, intelligent, race of mechanical shapeshifters so powerful it had taken one of their own to make a difference. 

No one had ever gone up against the Vet-ring and won, no one. Resistance had been a losing battle until Guardian had joined the cause. Within three months they had two successful operations, rooting out Vet plants, and kicking them off world, saving the entire planet from global war. She had become legendary in the right circles, those being the three or four big name groups outright fighting the Vet-ring. She had started out working with them, but it had been too constraining. They collaborated sometimes, and she certainly would come running if they were in deep shit, but she and her little pack were sort of like rebellion mercenaries now. And they were good at it.

Guardian seemed to snap out of her thoughts as they passed a certain street, heading towards it. “Manny, take the others home. I’m gonna drop off the product.” 

He gave her an uncomfortable look, “You’re going alone?”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.” 

“I’m going with you.” He moved to her side.

Guardian wanted to say something sharp in response, but she quelled it. There was no point in talking him out of it, it would take too long.

“Shep, you can get ‘em home?” Manny confirmed. 

“Of course, have fun on your date.” He tossed the data stick to Manny, starting to walk backwards in the direction of the apartment. 

Deon wasn’t sure if it was compulsion at this point but he piped up, “Can I come too?”

Guardian answered just as reflexively, “No.”

“Come on, you’re just bringing the stick to the buyer right? You’re selling the important info to the good guys.”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“The only reason they’re getting this is because I trust them a bit more than I trust the guys who originally had it.” Guardian answered, she didn’t believe in good guys.

“And because they pay really well.” Manny put in. 

Deon looked like he wanted to say more but the words deserted him. He knew they’d talked about this before, the whole lesser of two evils argument. But that didn’t cause it to take the wind out of his sails any less. Manny and Guardian said a few things to Shep, but Deon didn’t catch them, then headed down their new path.

Wyatt set a hand on his shoulder, “Come on.”

Deon watched Manny and Guardian disappear down the side street and felt a familiar energy spark in the veins around his wrist. He looked back to Wyatt, “Give me five minutes?” 

_

Guardian gave it until they were out of sight before she turned on Manny, “So, why the fuck would you tell them about the Vet pressense on this rock before it was absolutely necessary?”

He winced, “Oh… you caught that?”

“What if they had tried to get more information on their own?”

Manny waved it away, “Deon wouldn’t know where to start, and Wyatt would have been smart enough to keep him from getting anywhere.”

This was, in fact, exactly how it had gone. Wyatt tended to be the more sensible of the pair, and had recognized just what a situation like this would mean if they fucked up. So he had shut the whole plan down very early in its development, difficult to do when Deon had set his mind on something, but not impossible. So instead they had spent that night playing Galaxy Master 5 with Shep.

Guardian stepped in front of him, turning to face him, “And what if he hadn’t?”

Manny felt shitty, it had been stupid, he had honestly thought they were old enough to recognize when things were dangerous enough to make them a liability. Maybe they were still too young. “But he did, they’re fine. You always say not to get hung up on what ifs.”

She shook her head, that part was true at least, “Fine.” 

They continued walking, and seemed to be unaware of the small reptilian humanoid who had tagged along. Deon kept to the rooftops, he was one hell of a climber, so it didn’t take much to keep up with them. Though that wasn’t the only thing he had to contend with while stalking his primary caregivers. 

Guardian favored forms with some version of electroreceptors. Meaning she could sense the electrical fields given off by the creatures who had such fields. This was a surprisingly large chunk of lifeforms. However, Deon was one of the exceptions to the rule.

Inherently his species gave off a form of electrical jolt when they encountered a predator, with time and practice it could be controlled and trained into a lot more. However, it didn’t just give him the chance to shock the hell out of his enemies, it also let him fuck with Guardian’s favorite sense. In short terms it meant Deon was one of the few who could manage to follow Guardian without her immediately realizing it. A fact he took advantage of maybe a little too often.    

Guardian reached the door and held it open for Manny. He walked in but when she didn’t follow he stopped in the door frame, giving her a questioning glance. Guardian turned her head to the roof of the building on their left and flattened a canine ear, “Well get down here. We’re not leaving you outside.” When he didn’t immediately appear, she put her paw-hand on her hip, “Don’t make me come up there.” That was a very real threat.

Deon emerged from the shadow of mechanisms that cluttered the roof, half climbing down half jumping. He braced for fury, but had one question first, “How did you know I was there? I hid my field!”

She shook her head, “I have other senses, dumbass.” But no lecture followed that, “Let’s get this over with. I want to get home before Scout finishes off the ice cream.”

The building turned out to be a bar. A neutral setting, it would discourage violence, but in the event that it was the only answer no one would be surprised. It wouldn’t be something that law enforcement would even blink twice at. All by design of course. Manny and Deon sat at one of the booths off to the side, where Guardian was sure Manny was letting him try shit he shouldn’t have. While she took a seat at the bar directly, where she’d told her contact he would find her. They were early, she didn’t expect her contact to be there for another hour. Getting there first just meant he wouldn’t have the chance to try anything stupid. She ordered something she knew wouldn’t have any effect on her biology and spun the data stick between her digits. 

He wandered in, maybe thirty minutes later, also early. A tall creature, of gray-blue skin and almost neon markings. His limbs were too long and his eyes… well he didn’t have any. He sat down next to her, “Nice night for the time of year.” He said.

“But I’d prefer a cooler climate.” She answered the pass phrase they had agreed upon. 

He nodded, “You got it?”

“I do.”

He slid her a card, which she picked up and inspected, then snagged something from her bag. A card reader of some kind. She slid the card into the slot and watched the screen light up an agreeable number. 

“What, you don’t trust me?” he asked, feigning hurt, through no discernable mouth. 

“Why of course not.” She answered with light cynicism. Then raised her claws off the data stick. 

He drew it into his hand, gazing at it, or whatever he did instead of gazing. “Good doing business with you. I hope this can be the start of a long and prosperous partnership.”

“We’ll see.”

“Good evening.” He stood.

“What are you going to do with it?” She asked, freezing him in his tracks. 

“It’s government grade blackmail material, what do you think I’m going to do with it?” He seemed to be suddenly nervous, suddenly defensive. Like he was expecting this to be the start of her going back on their deal.

She nodded once, “Good.” 

He relaxed, reciprocating the nod before disappearing out the door. 

Manny and Deon joined her at the bar, “Well that was less dramatic than I was expecting.” Manny said.

“Told you there’d be nothing to it.” She answered, handing him the card and leading them back out into the street. 

“So that’s it? That was the oh so dangerous thing I wasn’t allowed to come to?” Deon complained. He was glad things went well, but he had been hoping for at least a little bit of action.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Manny snarked. 

Guardian sighed, because of course Deon was complaining, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. “We see enough danger when we go out on ops. I am more than happy for things to just go smoothly this time.” 

Deon was going to answer when he noticed they were suddenly standing still. Guardian was looking at something, the intensity of a predator having heard their quarry. Manny was standing a foot behind her, glancing from her to where she was focused. Deon stopped next to Manny, about to ask what Guardian sensed when he heard it this time. A trash can went over somewhere in the darkness ahead of them. 

All four of Guardian’s mouths bared their teeth, but the one on her face opened, “Who’s there? Identify yourself.”

The answer was a form tumbling out of the dark to the ground ahead of them. Guardian tensed, claws akin to filletitng knives extended from the end of each digit. Sure it looked like it was just another dime-a-dozen drunk, but bounty hunters were clever. She was counting down the moments, about to close the distance and carve it up when Manny held his hand in front of her. She lowered her claws and let her hostility die down a moment. 

He had managed to pull himself to his knees but was still reliant on his arms to keep his face away from the cement. He was young, maybe a few years older than Deon, and his left side and leg were absolutely drenched in blood. He was trembling, maybe it was exhaustion, could have been the blood loss, only he knew it was fear. He wouldn’t look up, keeping his head distinctly tilted down, only glancing up at the rapidly blurring forms to make sure they weren’t getting any closer. 

A moment passed in which no one moved, when he seemed to decide they weren’t going to go charging in and kill him he tried to stand. His leg couldn’t take it, and he hit the ground with a groan. His breathing was slowing down, the adrenaline that had brought him there seemed to be withdrawing. He made another attempt at standing and he couldn’t even get back to his knees.

Manny took a few steps towards him, “Easy, your leg’s real fucked up.” 

He would have slashed, growled, something at Manny to keep his distance, if he hadn’t lost his grip on consciousness first.

Manny gave it a second once his eyes shut, then knelt down next to him, checking for vital signs. “He’s alive,” he informed Guardian, who was joining him next to the humanoid. Deon followed, but stayed behind her. He noticed from there that her ears were flicking. Lining the edges of them, with no semblance of pattern, were glowing red dots. This form relied on its ears to collect two types of sensory information, auditory and electrosensory. Flicking her ears like that kept them from just telling her what was in front of her, it gave Guardian a 360-degree view. She was on high alert.

Manny looked down at the injuries. The one on his side was a slash, probably done by a blade of some kind. The damage to his leg wasn’t as clean, it almost looked like a bite mark, but there were no clear teeth patterns, it looked like it had been scooped out by an army of angry forks. 

  Manny cast a glance back to Guardian, noticing Deon trying not to look at the gash. He gave Deon a snide grin, “That exciting enough for ya?” There was some swear word in response, but he didn’t say it loud enough for Manny to hear. 

“We should get moving.” Guardian reminded.

Manny nodded, “Course. Am I carrying him or are you?”

She shifted an ear back, “We can’t take him with us.”

Manny stood, putting himself at eye level with her. He wouldn’t be taking no on this one. “Why not?”

“He’s clearly being chased by something, this is not the kind of shit we should be sticking our noses in. It’s hard enough to stay under the radar as is, we can’t be making more enemies.”

“So you’re saying we just leave him here.” He rumbled, “To bleed out in the alley?”

“I’m saying we leave him for someone who can afford to invite trouble into their lives, and who won’t bring trouble to his.”

Deon finally gave his two sense, “I mean, if anyone can handle trouble, it’s us. Isn’t it?”

Manny gave her a smirk.

Getting double teamed wasn’t fair. Guardian threw her head back and dropped her shoulders, making a big show of her sigh. It was a big show because Vet-Ring usually didn’t need to breathe, so they didn’t naturally sigh unless they pretended to do so. “Yes, I’ll carry him.”

Next ->

[luvp-music]

finding ‘father’ [Master Detective Archives: RAIN CODE Chapter 4/OC Stuff] | MASSIVE SPOILERS

tw// violence, vulgar language, yomi hellsmile being an asshole AN: This work is accompanied by artwork that will be posted later. It is OC x canon events, so please excuse any altering to the canon there may be.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sachika’s brain went static the second her eyes saw pink. Usually by now, she would only see red, and rage. Although her emotions should have gone haywire, and she should be going berserk, she was free. Was it because of the effects of the lab? Was it due to the help of Desuhiko’s Disguise having a lasting effect? Was it because of Yomi Hellsmile in the lab behind her? Was it because she still needed to keep a lasting impression on the other agents? Or was it…

…because Yakou Furio was bleeding out in front of her and she couldn’t do anything?

She felt powerless. She had one goddamn job after doing everything for him, and she failed. Everyone failed.

Sachika could only stand there, frozen. Even as Yuma ran out, shouting for the Chief to respond, she couldn’t do anything. Even as the Chief spoke his final words to Yuma and her both, her vision was white, her body couldn’t move. She couldn’t even recall if she was breathing. The world was set in slow motion. The world was moving faster. The world stopped. It kept going around and around in circles in her mind and nothing could ever seem to stop it.

Then the chilling voice of Hellsmile spoke up, saying, “Huh? What’s going on here?”

That was when she seemed to snap back into reality, screaming at Yakou to wake up, to tell her what the hell happened, and WHY he would let something like this happen. Yuma left her be to plead with Yomi to treat Yakou’s wounds, only to be blamed for it all. Within a blink of an eye, Yuma was being held with his arms behind his back, begging for someone, anyone to do something. All the while Sachika was attempting to stop the bleeding.

“--…a pitiful, fitting end for an unjust life,” he spoke, “And in front of his precious girl, too. You’re sick. Arrest this fucker we caught red handed.”

Don’t call me that. You have no right to call me that. You have no idea…

Walking over to her and the chief’s body, Yomi grimaced to himself, “Why the hell would I help worms like you? …”

Once again, his voice faded out of Sachika’s reality, before the stomping of his heel on Yakou’s face snapped any form of resistance she may have had.

“STOP!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, beginning to claw and throw her fists at the man, “Get your fucking hands off of him!!”

Yomi was quick. Almost too quick. Within a second, he had grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her so she couldn’t move.

“Aw, how cute. Daddy’s little girl is defending him until his final, dying breath. It almost makes me sick,” he sneered, spitting on her face before throwing her onto the ground.

Sachika resorted to kicking when she couldn’t move her upper body, being pinned down by Yomi. There was something so wrong about this entire scenario. Why was she fighting for her life next to Yakou’s bleeding body? Against the head of the Peacekeepers no less? The rational part of her brain knew he had no time left, there was blood everywhere. But he had to be saved. Yakou Furio was all she had in this hellhole known as Kanai Ward.

What came next moved far too fast for anyone to keep up. Yomi’s fist connected with Sachika’s face. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five– she stopped counting. She couldn’t feel her face anymore. Yomi was so satisfied, finally beating both of his least favorite people in Kanai Ward to the ground, screaming profanities and threats all the while. When he was satisfied with Sachika’s bloody nose and bruised skin, he continued by grabbing her head and neck, pounding the back of her skull with the hard, marble floor of the lab. Her ruby blood spilled out onto the floor, she couldn’t feel her head, she was getting dizzy, she was going to pass out, she was going to pass out, she was going to–

Right on que, Halara and Vivia came in, dealing with any Peacekeepers that were keeping Yomi company. The next few seconds were like a dream. With every blink of Sachika’s eyes, one Peacekeeper was on the ground. Yuma and Fubuki were running hand in hand away from the scene. Yomi was running away.

Yomi was running away?

Yomi was running away.

No matter how much she wanted to duplicate herself and catch the bastard, the pain in her body and head was too much to push through. The only sense she bothered keenly using in the moment was her hearing, which only worked so well.

“You think – carry her?”

“I’m not – built – drop her –”

“It’s either – to die – . I’m – take the Chief.”

With that, Sachika felt herself being carried before she felt a sigh where she thought her shoulder was. Looking up through swollen, beaten eyes, she saw Vivia, one of the only close friends she managed to make through this mission.

“Stay awake, now. It’ll be a hassle if you pass out, too.”

She couldn’t refute his statement. She couldn’t do anything, really. All that came from this mission down to the lab was sadness, pain, and unneeded death. Looking down at her bruised, bleeding body, her mind began to wonder. No matter how many thoughts appeared in her mind, there was only one feeling she had: numbness.

Figures. She lost a mother, and now she has lost a “father”.

[kybelestorm]

House Vespertine Book 1: The Duskborn Lotus

1.

House Vespertine stood at the end of a meandering cobblestone lane, silent and sprawling, a sleeping behemoth beneath a dawnlit sky.  The manor’s dark windows each held a single, glowing candle; from a distance the flames flickered like dying stars.  A plume of clean white smoke spiraled up from one of several chimneys, the only outward sign of life inside the mansion.  The brick facade was covered in climbing ivy and morning glories that were just turning their faces to the first rays of sunlight.  Two ancient oak trees flanked the entrance, double doors that were painted an unexpected shade of sapphire blue.

Hazel Winters arrived at the imposing wrought iron gates a quarter mile away, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back.  It was a surprisingly warm morning for early spring, yet the skin on her arms stood in goosebumps.  She raised a hand to press the small button at the side of the gate, paused, lowered it again.  She repeated this routine twice, then sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool metal bars.

What am I even doing?

“State your name and purpose.”

The mellifluous voice rang out from the air above her head.  Hazel yelped and staggered back a few steps, but there was no screen or speaker to be seen.

“Um, Hazel Winters.  I’m here for my… initiation?”

An impression of a smile from the ghostly voice.  “Welcome, Miss Winters.  You may enter.”

The gates swung open with a suitably gothic shriek, and Hazel stepped forward.  Her fight or flight kicked in and she nearly turned around and ran, but she gritted her teeth and took another step.

You can do this.  You have to do this.

Her boots clacked loudly on the stones as she made her way down the lane.  With each step, the cobblestone beneath her foot glowed softly, creating an ephemeral path toward the manor.  The lands surrounding the mansion were no tightly manicured lawns but unruly gardens of wild herbs and butterfly bushes; the air around her smelled green with just a hint of woodsmoke.  With the peach pink sunrise painting the sky, it was easy to imagine that she’d been spirited into some sort of fae realm.  The undergrowth tickled her ankles and tugged at her skirt as she walked.

It can’t be so bad.  A scary person wouldn’t have such a beautiful home, would they?

She reached the entrance more abruptly than she expected, as if she’d been wandering through a dream that suddenly ended.  The blue doors loomed up and out of sight; Hazel was sure this had to be an illusion, although to what end she couldn’t say.  With a trembling hand, she reached up and grasped the massive brass door-knocker, lifted and let it fall with a heavy clang.  The sound reverberated through Hazel’s bones.

Well, I’m sure they know I’m here.

A bar of soft, warm light spilled out as the doors opened, inviting Hazel into a grand foyer.  The room was decorated in shades of cream and rose gold, with plush sofas sitting in each corner.  A sweeping staircase led up to the second floor; above this hung an ornate yet tasteful chandelier.  Each sconce was lit with an orb of glowing arcane light that floated in the air and slowly shifted hues.  The floor was a mosaic of polished tiles that formed a large sigil in the center of the room surrounded by smaller runes.  Hazel studiously avoided treading on this and stood at the edge, looking around expectantly and clutching her bag against her chest.

“You made it!”

The voice came from the hallway to her right, and Hazel spun in time to see a blur of lace and ribbons tacklehug her.  Strong arms pinned her own to her sides and the scent of lavender shampoo filled her nostrils.  Slowly she managed to extricate herself from the human octopus that had glommed onto her and was able to get a better look at her assailant.  The girl was in her early twenties, with chestnut hair pulled into an elaborate braid and smiling gray eyes.  A smattering of freckles dusted her cheeks.

“Uh, yes.  Hi.  I’m…” Hazel tried on a bemused smile.  “Do I know you?”

The girl smoothed her crinoline-plumped skirts and blushed.  “Probably not.  I did see your coven give a talk on mushrooms once.  I was in the back, though.  I’m Amorie.”

“Oh, yeah.  I’m not with them anymore.”  It felt like a stupid thing to say, but the silence seemed even more awkward.  “Hazel Winters.”

Amorie beamed and all but bounced with excitement.  “Welcome to House Vespertine.  It is so good to have some new faces around here, you have no idea!  You’re the last of the new initiates to arrive.”

“I… had some problems with my train.”

“That’s all right, you’ll get to meet everyone at lunch.  Most of them got here last night.  And I,” at this she snatched the bag out of Hazel’s hands, “get the honor of showing you to your room!”

“O-okay…”

With a little curtsey, Amorie gestured back down the hall and put on a mock solemn voice.  “Walk this way.”

Hazel followed her, cringing at how loud her footsteps sounded in the silence.  Out of desperation, she said, “So, Amorie.  Are you like the… butler?”

Amorie’s laugh sounded like wind chimes in summer.  “I’m a neophyte.  We just take turns being the chambermaid each month.  That includes buttling.”  Her voice took on an edge.  “I’m a hemomancer.”

“A blood witch?  Very new age.”

A shrug.  “It runs in my family.”  Amorie looked back over her shoulder and winked.  “Get it?  It runs in my family?  Cuz it’s blood?”

Hazel groaned.  “Good gods.”

“You‘ll learn to love me.”

The hallway seemed to go on forever, and the two girls fell into a more comfortable silence.  The walls were lined with unusual artwork: bizarre, otherworldly landscapes, portraits of ancient gods dressed in modern clothing.  Smaller halls branched off to the left and right and led deeper into the mansion, but Amorie continued going straight.  Hazel wondered idly what kind of spell made the manor look so much smaller from the outside.

“Here we are!”  Amorie stopped abruptly in front of an otherwise plain door that was painted dark purple.  “The Aubergine Suite is all yours!”

“Aubergine?”

“You don’t like eggplants?”

Hazel was about to reply that she had no strong feelings about purple vegetables one way or the other, but Amorie was already fiddling with a large keyring and unlocking the door.  The room inside was beautifully appointed, simple yet elegant, and she could understand its name.  The bedset was a deep lush purple, while the walls were painted a lighter shade of lavender.  Everything else was highly polished hardwood and bronze.  An oval full length mirror sat in the far corner.  In the center of the floor was a pile of five or six suitcases.

“Your luggage arrived a few days ago,” Amorie said as she led the way into the room.  “You might wanna make sure everything is okay.  We’ve been having a few issues with the teleportation glyph.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”  Hazel turned in a slow circle, taking everything in.  “This room is bigger than my last apartment.”

“It takes some getting used to.”  Amorie pointed to the opposite side of the room.  “That’s the walk-in closet.  And over there is the bathroom.  Take some time to freshen up and meet me back in the foyer in an hour?  I’ll show you to the dining hall.”

“Sounds good.”  Hazel’s smile was genuine this time.  “Thanks for being so helpful.”

With another curtsey, Amorie grinned.  “My pleasure.  I just want everyone to feel welcome.”  She backed out of the room.  “See you in a few!”

“Sure.”

Once she heard the latch click shut, Hazel trudged over to the bed and collapsed face down.  The duvet was impossibly silky-soft against her cheek.  She sighed and rolled over onto her back, staring up at the lilac ceiling.

This is nuts.

Her eyes began to droop shut as she sank deeper into the mattress.  She hadn’t been able to sleep on the train; her seatmate had wanted to share all the secrets of “polyhedral marketing” with her.  She jerked and pushed herself up on her elbows, then slid bodily to the floor and crawled over to her luggage.  A quick inspection revealed that she was now the proud owner of a cashmere sweater with one polka dot sleeve and a pair of chinos that had mysteriously doubled their number of legs.  Everything else was more or less as she had packed it, and Hazel breathed a sigh of relief.  She laid out a brown corduroy skirt and a cotton blouse, then took ten minutes to brush her teeth and run a comb through her tangle of strawberry-blonde hair.  The huge clawfoot tub in the bathroom was viciously tempting, but she knew that the minute the warm water touched her body it would be lights out.  Instead, she splashed some cool water on her cheeks and got changed into clothes that didn’t smell of travel and old sweat.

Barely twenty minutes had passed, but Hazel needed to escape the seductive whispers of her new bed and its sidekick, the nefarious bathtub, so she made her way back out to the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her.  She traced her thumb in a swirling sigil over the doorknob and whispered a simple locking incantation.  A glowing rune appeared for a brief second before fading into the ether.  She started off back the way they had come at a brisk pace that slowed as she realized that the once-straight path was now a winding maze.  The hall twisted and curved, split into dead ends and seemingly went in circles that led to nowhere.

“Shit,” Hazel huffed in frustration when she turned a corner only to run into a blank wall for the third time.  “I should’ve asked for a damn map.”

She spun on her heel only to find a dead end behind her as well.  Rather than just a wall, however, there was a single scarlet door.  The surface was covered with intricate carving of flowers and people, tall trees and starlit skies.  Hazel ran her fingers over the filigree and felt an arcane shiver run the length of her body.  Upon closer inspection, the tableau included male and female faeries with delicate wings, elk-horned dryads, and stranger creatures yet.  They were engaged in all manner of intimate activity; Hazel felt her cheeks flush as her gaze fell on a particularly buxom mermaid whose face was buried between the legs of a female elf.  Her eyes flicked over the orgiastic scene, trying to find a safe place to look without luck.  Here was a leering satyr with an impressive phallus surrounded by adoring faeries of all genders.  There was a female demon (succubus?) locked in a passionate embrace with an angel while impish figures penetrated each of them from behind.

Hazel drew back, feeling oddly lightheaded.  She turned, half expecting to see another wall boxing her in, but the hallway had returned to its proper place.  She took off at a sprint, her eyes locked on the hardwood floor, ignoring any other potential distractions.

I just want to get back to the damn foyer… it shouldn’t be this hard!

And then she was there.  She staggered to a stop, eyes wide, as the room seemingly just appeared around her.  The grand staircase, the chandelier… it was all just as before.  Hazel spun in a slow circle, her mouth agape.  That was powerful invocation magic, far more complicated than just making the hallways seem more confusing than they were.  Now that she was paying attention, she could almost hear the mana thrumming in her ears.

“There you are!”

Amorie came bounding across the room.  “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I got a little… turned around trying to find my way back here.  I didn’t know I could just think my way back to where I wanted to be.”

“Oh, jeez.  That’s my fault.”  Looking down at her shoes, Amorie scrunched her face.  “I should’ve told you.  The whole building is inside a ward of Convocation.”

“So no one who doesn’t know what they’re looking for could ever find it.”

Amorie grinned.  “Exactly.”

“Then how did I…”  Hazel shook her head.  “Never mind.  That must take an enormous amount of power.  Archmage level stuff.”

The grin widened.  “You haven’t met Lady Vespertine yet, have you?”  She reached out and grabbed Hazel by the wrist.  “Come on, I’ll introduce you.  Trust me, you’ll never meet anyone quite like her.”

Hazel was intrigued.  “What is she like?”

There was a long pause, as if Amorie was trying to evoke the correct word to come to her lips.  When she finally spoke, it came out as a conspiratorial whisper.

“Transcendent.”

[k1yamaluvskaiser]

angst drabble idk honestly, im just a fat sucker for angst tw ; death , betrayal , forbidden love

enjoy the heartbreak <3 - nymph ♡

she wrapped one arm around his neck, bringing her face closer to his.

her chest swelled with guilt, and so much pain.

she was a monster for doing this.

in her vacant hand, she hid a dagger, and tightly gripped it.

tears were forming in her eyes.

no, no. she couldn't cry now.

"is something... wrong?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

she was quick to act, and brought the knife to his neck.

inside, she was screaming at herself to just get it over with.

she had to-- she had no choice.

it was either him, or everyone she loved.

'i'm sorry...'

tears cascaded down her face, but he didn't falter.

"you wouldn't. you can't do it." he said coldly while pushing her off himself.

she couldn't bear to look at him. she was ashamed. she was filled with so much sin that she was overflowing with guilt.

she couldn't contain it anymore.

'no, i can't...--'

the dagger was raised a second time, but not to the man she loved.

to the wretched, heartless witch that willingly accepted to take the life of an innocent man that was patient enough to love someone like her.

the dam broke then, but instead of powerful streams of water flowing out, it was her blood.

the crimson red liquid gushed out of her chest, and she could only collapse to the ground.

his cold facade fell, along with his own body to its knees.

he held her close, and was forced to watch as his lover bled to death in his own arms.

perhaps if he didn't involve himself with her, she wouldn't have been in this position, bleeding-- dying in his guilty embrace.

but in her head, what she had thought was no different.

perhaps if she didn't associate herself with them, he wouldn't have served as a test of loyalty, one that she needed to slaughter to pass.

what other choice did she have?

it was either her affair, or everyone she loved.

this was a trick.

he was all she had.

who else did she have to love but him?

if she were forced to choose between murdering the man she loved twice, then she'd rather drive the dagger into her own chest and kill herself.

that way, nobody would have to take the test of loyalty.

that way, her love didn't have to die by her hands.

what a cruel, twisted affair.

[xxsabitoxx]

How the Pillars would react to “I love you.”

With a twist.

A/N: 😀

Giyu

“I love you.” Those were words he had been dying to hear leave your lips since your first date. He was absolutely smitten for you, he’d do anything for you. “I…love you too.” He smiled, holding back tears as he held you until you fell limp. “I love you so much.”

Shinobu

“Nobu…I love you.” She smiled softly, leaning closer to you and whispering back. “I love you too.” But it was already too late, her words fell on deaf ears. “If only I could have saved you. I’m so sorry y/n.”

Rengoku

“Kyojuro…I love you.” He smiled brightly at your sweet words, hands coming to cup your cheeks and kiss your forehead. Those memories only brought him pain now. “I love you, Y/N.” If only he has gotten to say it more than twice.

Muichiro

“I love you, be careful!” He gave you a small wave has he set off. What he didn’t realize was that was the first and only time he’d ever hear you say those words. He stared at the name on the stone before him, trying to figure out why he was so sad.

Gyomei

“I love you, be safe Gyomei!” He pat your head, tears slipping down his cheeks as he replied “I love you too.” He couldn’t handle how sweet you were to him. If only he could have been there for you when you really needed him.

Mitsuri

“I love you.” She could have died on the spot, “I love you too!” She wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held you close. “I love you so much…come back…please come back.” She wished she could have done more.

Sanemi

“I love you.” He looked at you with cold eyes, not saying a word as he turned from you. Now, he sat alone, tears slipping down his cheeks as he stared at nothing. “I love you…” he wished he had said it when you could have heard him.

Obanai

“I love you, Obanai.” He was too stunned to even reply at first. Had the world really given him a second chance? Would he be okay if he chose to be happy with you? As he looked at your still form, he realized he was an idiot for even daring to dream.

Tengen

“I love you!” He laughed, spinning you around in his arms. “I love you too, y/n.” He was so happy he had met you, you made him feel complete. “I…love you.” He held you close in his arms once more, refusing to let go even after you had went cold.

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

[skzsauce01]

Clementia

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You’d always had a special place in your heart for Lee Minho even though he gives you countless reasons to hate him. How long will your patience last?

Warning: alcohol, sexual assault

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Minho

“Y/N—”

“Go away, Minho.”

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I said no!”

“Well I said I’m sorry.”

You snap around to face him. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Lee Minho. You screwed up. You. Screwed. Up. I gave you one request, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“I had my reasons!” he protests.

“Yeah? Well let’s hear them.”

He emits a few noises but can't come up with anything. His face flushes red, but not as red as yours.

“There’s no excuse for breaking someone’s heart ever. Remember that.” You turn on your heels and begin walking away until he says something even more repulsive.

“Why do you care so much? She’s not even your real sister!” he calls after you.

You pause, unable to comprehend how such words could ever enter your ears. You then slowly walk back to him as he stiffens with every step you take.

“Not my real sister?” Your voice is soft, but it is effective.

“I mean—”

“You’re saying the girls at Epsilon Phi aren’t sisters?” Your voice begins to rise. “We’re more sisters than you and I were ever friends, Lee Minho! We love each other more than biological families do, but of course you wouldn’t know how that feels, would you? All you have in your chest is a cold, hard piece of coal!”

You turn away and break off into a run this time. Tears stream down your face from being insulted and betrayed by someone you held with high esteem.

You like Lee Minho. Of course, you’d never admit that. To the world, he is just some kid of your mom’s friend who annoyed you to no end, but through the arguments and time spent trying to prove each other wrong, your feelings grew bit by bit. When he had a relationship with your very own Little, you held in your feelings and wished them both the best. After all, you love both of them, and their happiness together was good enough for you.

That is, until Minho broke things off as nothing but a fling.

Minho has always been a huge flirt, but he’d promised to take her seriously this time. You made him swear it, and you emphasized how much your Little meant to you. Now, because you’re his family friend, your Little won’t even speak to you. Minho had ruined your and her relationship, and evidently yours and his too.

He didn’t used to be like this, all manipulative and amorous. You remember he used to follow you at the heel, caring about nothing more than sticking gum in your hair. It wasn’t until senior year of high school did he start hanging out with random girls and trying daredevilish things. You missed the old Minho, but you thought you’d accept him for all his changes since you did, after all, like him.

Until this moment, that is.

What he did was too much. What he said was too much. You know he is becoming toxic, and if he is going to continue down this path, even your love isn’t going to bring him back to your heart.

Minho watches your waning back then slams his fist against a nearby tree with a curse. You didn’t give him enough time to explain, not that he would have been able to in front of you.

You’d forgive him though, right? You have to. When he messed up before this, Minho could be sure you would. But now, he isn’t so certain. He has never seen you so angry and disappointed before, and he did that to you. Him. Minho lets out another string of curses and trudges back to his room.

He tries making it up to you the very next morning. He shows up to your 8 AM class with a cup of coffee and slides it onto your desk before sitting down himself.

You don’t even look at him. You just take the cup and slam it down in front of him, causing its contents to spill and burn your fingers. He quickly takes your hand in his and begins wiping it with his sleeve, but you recoil your arm and take out your own napkin.

The next place he tries is at your neighboring frat party. He knows you would be there, so he wears his tightest black jeans and a loose button-up. This trick has worked with other girls, so he hopes it would on you.

He takes the dance floor with his powerful dance moves and charisma. He can see you deliberately turned away from him and chatting with someone else, so he dances towards you. The cheering circle that has formed around him moves as well, engulfing you into the crowd.

You finally turn to make sure you don’t bump into anyone. Minho takes this chance to shoot you a wink which draws the crowd’s attention to you. They cheer and push you towards him despite your protests.

Minho takes your arm and leads you in the dance. You used to like dancing with him; your and his flow matches perfectly, and the two of you could revive a dying party just by dancing together. Today though, you just aren’t having it.

Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and scoops his hips low earning a cheer from the crowd. You can hear them calling your name, anticipating your response. You look down at Minho and immediately recognize his choice of clothing.

I wonder who’s going to have her heart broken tomorrow, you think with a dry laugh. Minho flinches, recognizing that sound. You take his falter as a chance to fling his arm off of you before walking away.

A chorus of oohs fills the room, and the crowd splits like the Red Sea for you.

You hear your name from his lips again. “Y/N!” It is more strained now than it was last night. Desperate. Defeated.

You gave him some thought after hearing the sincerity in his tone, but you are glad you did not turn around that night when you see him in class with some other girl on his lap. Whatever. He’s dead to you now, so why should you care what he’s doing?

Minho watches as you walk farther and farther from him. He pushes the girl off and continues to stare with narrowed eyes at you as you greet your new seat neighbors.

This isn’t how he predicted you would react. Truthfully, he kind of knew this attempt wouldn’t work. For one, it hadn’t worked once since he first tried it in high school. He thought hanging out with other girls would make him more attractive, more desirable by competition. At least, that’s what some then-college kids told him. Once he started, he just found himself unable to stop. It was a self-feeding cycle, really. Holding onto other girls and charming them numbs the void in his chest, but you ignore him whenever he acts like this which only further widens the gap. 

What is he to do though? This is the only life he knows, and so, it is the life he leads. Not all love stories can end happily.

And his sure doesn’t seem like it is going to. 

Sirens wail in the background. With the amount of girls he’s fooled around with, he kind of had it coming. Minho stares at his wrists, not daring to think, but one thought keeps recurring in his mind: you. He is going to disappoint you yet again. You already hate him, and now you are going to see him handcuffed too.

The cold wind makes him shiver when you, his emergency contact, open the door and step into the station. Your eyes immediately find him, and you make your way over.

“Y/—”

“Are you hurt?” you ask plainly.

Despite your icy tone, those three simple words fill him with a warmth he hasn’t known for a long time.

“I’m okay.” His hands reach forward, wanting to grab yours and keep you with him, but you’ve already walked away to announce your arrival to an officer.

“Miss L/Y Y/N?” a young official greets a little too enthusiastically. She looks familiar, you note.

“Yes, I am she.”

The officer looks pleased by your annoyed attitude towards the defendant. “Mister Lee is here tonight because of an accusation by Miss Choi of assault,” she informs you coyly.

You look at him. “Minho,” you said with a chilled voice. “Is it true?”

“No! Y/N, I wouldn’t—”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Excuse me?” the officer sputters.

“I believe him,” you repeat. “He’s been going out with more people than I have fingers, but he never laid a finger on them.”

“But Y/N, that doesn’t mean he can’t start now,” the officer protests. “You’re his contact, but you hate him now. Surely, he’s changed”

“First of all, it’s Miss L/N to you, Officer” —you read her name tag and pieces begin to fall together from her eagerness to convict Minho to the inkling you felt the moment you saw her— “Yoo. And secondly, is it not against the law for you to be working on a case where your cousin’s the accuser?”

“How did you—!”

“Nothing escapes us Epsilon Phi sisters, even news from other sororities. Besides, Minho never plays with the same girl twice. As expected, this report is filed for an incident two months ago. You, Officer Yoo, knew I was his contact and waited for us to get into yet another fight before having your cousin put in the accusation, didn’t you?”

She scoffs in your face. “That’s a bold accusation from yourself towards law enforcement.”

“Where is the accuser right now? Shouldn’t she be here for interrogation as well?”

“Well she—” the officer looks increasingly flustered. “She needs rest after having to relive the memories of what happened. We’ll call her in tomorrow. Anyway, Mr. Lee Minho, I can hear your testimony now in room #3.”

Minho stands obediently.

“Wait. I request someone else interrogate him,” you object.

“We’re busy right now,” Officer Yoo huffs. “We can’t just let you choose who does the job.”

You cross your arms. “Sure. Interrogate him and have the entire case be nulled after I file a conflict of interest.”

Officer Yoo grits her teeth but returns to her station to call for another officer.

In the meantime, you turn to Minho. “Don’t answer anything you don’t want to, especially if they start leading you on with questions. It’s in your rights to remain silent, alright?”

Minho nods numbly at your words, still confused as to why you are so nice to him. Before he can figure it out though, an older man appears from the back and takes him to an interrogation room.

“Mr. Lee Minho?” 

“Yes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chief Jeon. I’m just going to ask you a few questions today; is that alright?”

“Yes.”

The chief nods and pulls out some papers. “Would you mind describing what happened with Miss Choi?”

“Well I was with—” he gestures towards the papers with his accuser’s name on it— “and we were hitting it off. She bought me a couple of drinks and at some point leaned in to kiss me. I realized something at that point, and I stopped her. She got angry, saying how she spent all that cash on alcohol for me, and threatened to accuse me of assault if I didn’t do what she said, but I knew I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of what you realized?” the chief repeats.

“... Yes.”

“And what was it you realized?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“According to the law, no, but if it can help you with your case, you might want to.”

Minho fidgets with his cuffs. “They can’t hear me from outside, right?”

“No. They most certainly cannot.”

And so, Minho tells him.

Minho turns around while the metal bars clang shut behind him. The chief thinks he has a pretty good chance, but due to the gravity of the accusation, they still decided to keep Minho in holding to give the accuser more time to make her case.

You stare at him from the other side, arms crossed. Minho takes the fact that you’re still here at two in the morning as a good sign for him.

“Thanks for being here,” he tries to start a conversation.

“I didn’t really have a choice.” So cold.

“I’ll change my emergency contact.”

“Please do.”

He winces. “Look… Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for insulting your sisterhood and for hurting your Little. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

He looks at you with those doe-like eyes of his. For once, you don’t feel anything while looking back at them.

“That’s not why I’m mad anymore. In fact, I’m not even mad,” you tell him. “My Little told me what really happened. She told me that she was actually the one who dumped you after you adamantly refused to kiss her. I asked some other girls you’ve seen and they all said the same thing. That’s why I was so confident with the officer earlier. I guess I owe you an apology for getting angry when you weren’t at fault.”

“Then”—he holds out a hand sheepishly— “truce?”

You look at it but keep your arms crossed. “Taking a step back from you has made me see things I wasn’t able to before, Minho, and that’s made me realize how much you’ve changed. You were my friend, my rival— someone who never failed to get on my nerves but also someone I couldn’t go without. But now” —you drop your arms and shake your head— “I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

You take a step back to leave. You’ve done this many times before, like when he stuck a plastic spider down your shirt or when he called you stupid in front of your crush in fifth grade, but something about this time feels different. Something about this time tells him you aren’t turning back around once you left.

A sudden despair grips Minho and he runs into the bars. “Wait!”

You pause, offering him one last second.

“Your Little,” he gasps, “did she tell you why I wouldn’t kiss her?”

You nod. “The others I asked did too. They said you were thinking about some other girl while you were with them.”

“Not ‘some other’ girl. One other girl.”

“I know.” You begin to walk again.

“Then why are you leaving?” He reaches a hand out, trying to grab any part of you. “Stay with me. Please, Y/N, stay.”

You don’t pause a second time. Out of desperation, he cries out, “Y/N, I love you!”

That makes you stop midstep. He holds his breath as you put one foot back then the other next to it to face him. You are so beautiful when you look at him. He melts under your gaze as you focus on him and only him. He’ll cherish you this time when you give him another chance. He’ll quit this playboy lifestyle. He won’t take advantage of your patience anymore. He’ll give you all that his heart has to offer. He’ll make sure you’re the only one in his eyes. He’ll love you. He loves you.

“Minho.” You relax your shoulders and straighten your back. You tilt your head just slightly forward and erase the edge off your tone. “I loved you.”

[kenmas-consoles]

Hello honey! I hope you don't mind me requesting something with this topic but my father told me today that I should kill myself just because I bleached my hair and then that I should care about other's opinion and not my own so can I request how would William react to his s/o saying this to him? If you don't feel comfortable writing this it's fully okay, I understand 🤍 Thank you in advance though 🤍

Pairing: William Moriarty x Reader

Summary: You bleach your hair and your father disapproves and says harsh words that lead you crying and William is there to console you.

Word Count: 1,878

Warning: Mentions of death/ act of suicide

It was never a secret to anyone that being born into a prestigious lineage meant that you had watchful eyes on lock with your every move. Every action you made was like a public statement and it was quite restricting, never being able to act out in the open in fear of public judgement. It has been that way since you were young, (y/n) (l/n) the eldest daughter to a famous business tycoon in England.

Though upon meeting William a few years back right after a business transaction made by your father and William’s eldest brother Albert you had become close friends, and maybe something even more. The time you’ve spent with him made you feel free, free enough to express yourself because you knew he wasn’t one to judge. It was a breath of fresh air, you never had to worry about the public eye whenever you were with him. These days you have a little skip in your step, after gaining the confidence to just be yourself.

You had made a big decision of getting your hair dyed and you were quite jittery upon entering your estate with your newly done hair. The little adrenaline rush of somewhat planned impulsivity of getting it dyed thrilled you though you know that others may have mixed feelings about your new hair. It hadn't mattered to you much since you were sick of playing the perfect daughter role. You knew your parents would have to find out one way or another you just hoped they would be accepting. Besides, it was just hair and it wasn’t that bad. If anything you thought you looked 10x better a blonde.

Still, you made an effort into hiding it for the day and probably dropping the gun and talking about it tomorrow since you were still pretty tired.

Closing the doors silently you enter your room and just as you set out a sigh of relief you hear a clatter and a piercing shriek.

Maggie, your personal maid, was in your room with tea now stained on the carpet floor as she looked at you with wide eyes. Upon realizing it was just you, her young mistress, she had calmed down and rushed towards you. Holding you by the shoulders she inspected you in amazement.

“You- you’re hair!” she exclaimed in excitement, “You’re blonde! How-”

You giggled lightly at her amazement and loss of words and babbling as she held a few locks of your hair in her fingers.

“I’ve had it done earlier,” you said, giving a little spin. “How does it look?”

“Absolutely stunning dear!”

Her response brings a smile to your face.

“What in the heavens?!” A deep male voice exclaimed from behind the door and your smile had grown shaky as you realized that the voice belonged to your father.

You mustered up a smile and took a deep breath before facing him.

“Do you like it?” you asked. “It’s preposterous! outrageous! What were you thinking?! Or did you even think at all?!” “Please calm down it’s just- “Hair?” Pinching the bridge of his nose he turned away from you with a shake of his head. “ You’re being selfish again, why can’t you just listen?”

In a much quieter tone he says “why can't you just get it through your head that your actions greatly affect the family! your brother is months away from getting married and you-

why can't you just think about what others might think and stop with this nonsense.”

Each word brings a pang in your heart as your eyes sting with tears. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him either as you grew small in his presence, self conscious even.

A silence passed and neither of you spoke. The tension in the room was suffocating, your father looked as though he had more to say but he just clicked his tongue before moving towards the door.

“Maggie, please clean up this mess,” your father said without turning back to look at the now scampering maid.

Sparing one last look he sighs and says, “I’m done with this conversation, with you, you can go jump out the balcony for all I care.”

Once the door clicks shut, you fall on your knees. Never before had your father said anything so harsh nor has he raised his voice towards you before. The tears threatening to spill had already made its way down your cheeks and you choked up a sob. All the confidence you had built over the past years felt like it was deteriorating and the only feeling that ate you up was guilt and shame.

Maggie comes back in and rushes towards your side as she sees you crying. “He doesn’t mean that sweetie,” she says all while cooing consoling words and holding your crumpled form.

You couldn’t fall asleep that night, your fathers words replaying like a broken record. Were you selfish? Was it your fault? You couldn’t help but think that and once again the ugly feeling of shame was boiling up within the pits of your stomach.

Watching from your balcony, your father who was talking to the coachman below. Downcast, he hadn’t spoken to you all day. Thinking back to last night where he couldn’t even look at you during family dinner nor even say a word to you during breakfast.

As though you were drilling holes into his head from above he had turned to face your balcony. You stepped back to avoid being seen but you saw him shake his head and then you felt the shame creep up again.

You were frustrated. At your father’s silence, his words, at yourself for letting it get to you so much. It was so really unlike you and you felt tears start to sting at your eyes. You knew your schedule was free today so you had decided to head for the Moriarty manor, your safe haven.

You made your way there without delay, gripping at your skirt as you sped through the streets of London, ignoring the weird stares and whispers of those who had recognised you. Nothing was more important now than getting there, since you were minutes away from breaking down once more.

Upon reaching the manor you were greeted by the familiar face of Louis who was tending to the gardens by the gate. Delighted you made your way towards him. “Louis!” He turned his head and stood with a shocked and bewildered expression as he blinked twice almost as if checking if what he saw was correct. “(y/n)?” he asked and you happily nodded.

“What happened to you, you look like you have been crying?” he asks.

You scratch your head a bit and mention how it was a long story not even denying the fact that he found out you were crying. Louis offers you another understanding smile as he walks with you to the manor telling you he’d go fetch William for you.

“I forgot to mention,” he says as he led you through the long hallways of the manor, “You look beautiful by the way, I’m sure my brother would think so too.”

You in turn blushed in response to his words.

“You can stay in the living room (y/n), I’ll go inform William of your presence now,” he says with a curt nod and a smile.

“Thanks Lou,” you say as you both exchange another set of smiles before he takes his leave.

A few minutes pass and you hear the sound of quick steps, the door of the living room bursting open to reveal none other than William Moriarty with the most agitated expression ever.

His agitation morphed to shock as he took one long look at you and he slowly moved towards the couch you had been sitting on.

One of his rare small smiles grace his face as he takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand tenderly.

“You look different,” he jests, then takes a lock of your hair between his fingers and rubs them. You both sit in comfortable silence and he takes this time to inspect your face, he notices the little circles around your eyes and how puffy they look not to mention your slightly rosey tipped nose. It wouldn’t take a detective to know you had been crying.

He looks at you expectantly and you take it as a sign to start spilling the beans. You tell him of how you had dyed your hair the other day to sneaking into the family manor that night uptil how your father had scolded you for your actions.

William just sat there with his hand in yours, staring at you lovingly as you replayed the story. Squeezing your hands ever so lightly when you had told him that your father had told you to kill yourself. He was appalled with your father to say the least, you the most brilliant person he had met and someone had the audacity to say such hurtful things to.

As you move your arms around animatedly to show your frustrations he found them rather cute and amusing, another smile moves up to his face. You were too caught up in retelling the story to notice him bring his hands to your chin. He moves your chin to face him and this action silences you.

Smiling at you once more he moves the hand holding your chin to caress your face. “Listen,it's true you have to consider others' opinions but that's just the tip of the iceberg, think about it... do we have more confidence in their opinions than we do our own? self-care is never a selfish act.”

You sigh, taking his hand that was on your face in your own, “It’s different when those people are your family. I don’t know how I could go back and face th-” “You don’t have to go back,” he grumbles under his breath but enough for you to hear.

“...then where would I go?”

“Simple,” he says with a compelling dangerous glint in his crimson eyes. “You are of age now, stay with me. I will marry you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and awkwardly laughed it off thinking it was another one of Williams jokes but the look in his eye told you that he was dead serious. Your cheeks then set aflame as numerous butterflies crashed around your stomach and chest.

“I know it is much too early for a proposal but I promise to love and cherish you for as long as my heart keeps beating,” He then stands and extends a hand for you to take, almost a silent sign of asking you to accept. And once you do slip your hand in his he holds you by the waist for an embrace and whispers in your ear.

“Besides, I think you look lovely as a blonde.”

This comment leaves you in a fit of giggles. William James Moriarty will always continue to be your safe haven, a pillar of support.

Hey there angel I hope you’re feeling alright please remember that you cant let others decide your self worth for you so try not to let huetful comments let you down. I’m pretty sure you look amazing and hopefully your father will come around with getting used to seeing your hair that way. I hope this story was to your liking as well have some moriarty love!

Also I pretty much crammed this cause I only saw the request today and aaaaaaa im sorry anywayz hope you like it again sweetie!!

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂, 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴, 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓾𝓯𝓯𝔂 (𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲) 𝓡𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 (𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛)× 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝑭𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆)

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕, 𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.2K

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑩𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑼𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝑫𝑺𝑴 𝒕𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒔/𝒗𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅/𝒑*𝒔𝒔𝒚 𝒑𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒔, 𝒔𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 (𝒇𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈), 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙 (𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏) 𝑺𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝑫𝒐𝒎! 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 × 𝑺𝒖𝒃! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy

❀••══════◄••❀••►══════••❀

Thanking the kind delivery person and wishing them a safe journey, Mingi shut the door behind him and stared at the package he was currently holding. Recognizing the logo of the company, he excitedly walked in a speedy form across the hallway and back into the bedroom, where his girlfriend, Y/N, was still in the same position as he left her: laying on the bed, a pillow tucked underneath her chest as she hugged it whilst staring up at the movie playing on the television. Mingi couldn't help but find her cute as one of her legs swung up and down, telltale sign she was enjoying the movie so far.

"What'd you get?" She asked when she felt the bed dip behind her when he sat on it.

"Oh just some cute little things I found on the internet. I'm just going to check and make sure they're not broken or something."

The girl simply hummed out at his response and resumed her focus back on the movie, ignoring the tearing of tape and shuffling of wrapping paper behind her. Carefully taking out each item one by one, Mingi set them down on the soft mattress, arranging them in an orderly fashion. His heart beat faster with each article he touched, palms getting sweaty as he began to imagine all the possible ways he could use all the items he bought. Soon enough, the corner of the bed where he sat at was arrayed with some of the various toys he had purchased: rope, blindfolds, soft and furry handcuffs, vibrators that ranged from bullet all the way to rabbit ones, mouth gags, floggers, assorted dildos, a collar with a leash set, different types of anal plugs including one that had a faux cat tail attached to it, and nipple clamps, all in a pretty pale pink color. However there was still one more item he had not yet taken out yet, still hidden inside the box. Pushing some of the leftover paper over, Mingi's hand slightly trembled as he looked down at the bright dark pink device that he had bought on a whim after he viewed some very explicit content on the internet the other day. His finger gently touched the plastic cylinder that was on one end of the toy, mind already thinking about putting it to use. Slowly, he turned his head to look over at his darling girlfriend, who was still absentmindedly fixed on the screen in front of her. Her leg had long stopped moving around, her body now completely relaxed.

"Perfect." Mingi thought.

Setting the box aside, he shifted so he was sitting right where her legs were. His fingers began grazing the hem of the babydoll lingerie dress Y/N was donning, the color matching with the toys he had bought. He had always loved the light shades of pink adorned, not just on her, but on her body, sometimes bordering on red if he got a little too carried away when he had his way with her. Lifting part of the dress up to reveal the matching lace panties, his hand cupped part of her left butt cheek, which resulted in a tiny giggle from her.

"Mingi? What are you up to?"

When she tried to shift around to see him, his hands immediately pressed her back down to her original position.

"Just stay like that princess and relax for me ok?"

Noticing the change of tone and his use of that particular nickname, Y/N did as she was told, eagerly anticipating what he had in store for her. Mingi slid his finger across her covered slit, probing around a little longer near her opening, slightly pushing part of his finger in there. When pulling it back, there was a wet arousal spot left there. Smiling fondly down at her, Mingi placed his arms at either sides of her body, lowering himself enough so he could start placing kisses along the nape of her neck and traveled them to the start of her back. She began to let out soft hums when his hands began caressing her sides, running them around the outline of her waist.

"My pretty baby. I hope you don't mind, but I bought you a few things."

Ears perking up and with glimmering eyes, Y/N allowed her doting boyfriend to help lift her up and sit her on his lap, making her face towards the rows of toys displayed out on the bed. A faint blush spread across the apples of her cheeks, fascination spreading around her body. Full of curiosity, her hand leaned out to hover above the items, some of which she knew what they were and some which were unfamiliar to her.

"It's ok babygirl. You can touch them." Mingi's soothing voice assured her when she hesitated to touch the nearest ones in her reach.

Gaining a bit of courage, she picked up one of cuter looking wands, her palms cupping the dome shaped top. Brushing some of the hair out of the way, Mingi pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

"You like that one?"

She nodded.

"It's cute."

Giggling softly, Mingi nuzzled his nose against her neck.

"Just like you princess."

Y/N let out a soft squeal as Mingi gently tackled her down onto the bed, his hands intertwining with hers. Starting with her forehead, he began peppering kisses all over her face before eventually reaching her lips and placing small tiny pecks on them, smiling occasionally against them. After a while, Mingi's kisses became more heated, his hands which were holding his girlfriend's hands in place were now gripping onto her thighs, running them down and up them before eventually wrapping them around his hips which were currently rolling themselves against hers. Y/N's faint moans were being swallowed up by Mingi's mouth as his tongue roamed the inside of hers, swirling her tongue around his before eventually tugging it out slightly so he could give it a tiny suck. Y/N's hands were already tangled on the back of Mingi's dyed red locks, messing them up just a tiny bit. When he pulled away, they were both left breathless, a tiny string of saliva that connected to their lips suddenly breaking apart as they stared in each other's eyes.

"Princess, will you let Daddy use some of the new toys on you?"

He didn't need to ask twice as Y/N was already nodding, also curious and aching to try out some of the toys. Raising her arms up and arching her back slightly, she allowed Mingi to strip the babydoll dress off her body, her panties soon following suit as they layed scattered on the floor next to the bed. Mingi admired her naked body, never getting tired of seeing her underneath him, legs spread as she let him view her in her most vulnerable state, always feeling like the first time he had her in such a position. Reaching for the same wand vibrator she had picked out before, Mingi turned it on, a slight buzzing noise coming out of it. Making sure it was on the mildest setting, he lowered it down and pressed it between her breasts, her body shivering slightly when she felt the vibrations hit against her skin.

"How does it feel so far princess?" He asked first before attempting to move it anywhere else.

"G-good. Feels good. But I want it somewhere else." She admitted.

Mingi chuckled at her answer.

"Somewhere else? Where exactly babygirl? Perhaps here?"

Y/N let out a sharp gasp as Mingi moved the vibrator over to caress one of her nipples, immediately making it poke out. Mingi held the device on her nipple briefly, often circling it around the rest of her breast before pressing back against her sensitive little nub. He made sure to repeat the same actions to her other nipple, not forgetting to let it receive the same treatment as its fellow twin. Once he felt her nipples had received enough attention, he began to move the wand down her stomach, inching it closer and closer towards her mound. Y/N's hands clutched onto the blanket underneath her.

Mingi began teasing her as he made the vibrator roam around her inner thighs, getting dangerously close to her core before pulling it away and dragging it further from where she wanted and needed it most.

"Mingi!" She whined at him.

"Yes princess? Is there something you want?" He tilted his head at her, smiling mischievously when she batted her eyelashes at him.

"Princess you gotta use your words. Daddy isn't a mind reader."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N dragged one hand down her body, cupping one of her breasts, her fingers toying with her sensitive nipple.

"I want...want the toy-" She bit her lip in frustration, eyebrows furrowed up at him.

"This?" Mingi retracted the device from her body, holding it up and swinging it around his hand. "Where does my princess want this now?"

He let out a pleased smile when Y/N grabbed his free hand to place it right on top of her clit.

"Here. I want daddy to put it right here." She answered as she moved his fingers so they could rub against her genitals, producing more slick to accumulate inside of her.

"Right here? You want daddy to put it right there?"

She nodded furiously, spreading her legs even further to get her point across. The buzzing sound of the vibrator got louder as Mingi turned it up a level. When it made contact with Y/N's clit, a breath got stuck in her throat. It pulsated so powerfully against her mound her body began to instinctively move away, but Mingi's hand pressed her down onto the bed, holding her in place as he angled the wand so it could hit all over her nerves.

"Don't baby. You said you wanted it right here and that's where it's staying."

Mingi had to admit watching her squirm underneath him, trying to escape his grasp while he watched in earnest as her pussy began turning a light shade of pink whilst it throbbed against the wand had the tent in his pants tightening even further. She was already leaking so much and her pussy looked so delicious it made him wonder just how much prettier it was going to look after he used the special device he bought for her. Y/N's legs began to tremble the longer Mingi held the vibrator next to her mound, her breathing becoming labored as she felt that familiar coil build up at the pit of her stomach. Just as soon as it was fast approaching, Mingi selfishly turned off the wand, putting an end to the addicting vibrations she was just enjoying. Mingi let out a subtle snort when he saw her glaring up at him.

"I'm sorry baby, but I just couldn't help to think that... it feels like something's missing. I think you'll look much prettier if you had something adorning you."

Scanning over the many articles layed out before him, Mingi picked up the tail butt plug. Stroking the fluffy part across her chin, he waved it in front of her face. Y/N however was confused about where it was supposed to go. Noticing her confusion, especially when she pointed at it, Mingi lowered it down so it was rubbing across her slick folds.

"This little toy right here babygirl....goes right here."

When Y/N felt the slightly cool metal piece rubbing against her rim, she widened her eyes and immediately retracted her body away from it.

"Mingi you are not sticking anything up my ass." She firmly declared.

His bottom lip poked out.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm very sure. Don't you dare." She continued.

Mingi nodded, not going to press her any further with something she was saying a hard no to. Going back to the clutter of toys, his fingers picked up two nipple clamps that had a white bow with a pink button attached to them. Holding them out in front of her breasts, Mingi smiled in satisfaction when she gave him the thumbs up to put them on. She would have thought that they would pinch a lot harder but surprisingly the didn't. The clamps seemed to be squeezing her nipples just right, applying the perfect amount of pressure on them. Testing them out, Mingi flicked his index fingers across them, getting an immediate reaction as Y/N grunted softly at his ministrations.

"How do they feel?" He inquired.

"They feel nice. Do they look pretty?" She rose her chest a bit.

"Oh they look absolutely beautiful on you princess. You look beautiful."

When his hand came down to caress her cheek, Y/N leaned into his touch, enjoying the small and gentle gesture of affection. Leaning down, Mingi kissed her forehead and then looked at her straight in the eyes.

"And you're going to look even more beautiful after we use a little something special I bought."

Mingi reached for the box that had been pushed aside yet had not been forgotten by him. Casting the box aside, he finally revealed what had been kept hidden inside:

A bright pink vaginal pump.

Y/N looked at the sex toy with fascination. It looked pretty and it was nothing she'd ever seen. Although it slightly intimidated her, she found herself drawn to it.

"What's that for?" She pointed towards it.

Glad that she'd ask, Mingi cupped the cylinder piece and gave it a tiny squeeze to show her it was flexible.

"See darling, I'm going to put this little piece right over here on your pretty little pussy. And then this part."

He picked up the other end with his other hand which was medicinal-ball styled pump and smelled down at her.

"Is going to suck those pretty lips of yours until they're left swollen and sensitive to the touch. That way when I fuck you I'm going to have you cumming over and over again."

Y/N was intrigued by his words so she just obeyed Mingi and patiently waited as he began lubricating the edges of the plastic cylinder dome. Once that was done, he meticulously positioned it on top of her mound, pressing it down to make sure it would stay put and would seal around it.

"God I bet you're going to look so pretty." He couldn't wait to see the results.

Picking up the pumper once more, he reminded her their safe word in case she felt uncomfortable or, heaven forbid in pain, and he'd immediately release the emergency valve so it'd come off her body instantly. Y/N nodded and then took a deep breath to steady her nerves, reminding herself to just relax and trust Mingi. When Mingi squeezed the pump for the first time, she felt her pussy get sucked into the cup, her breath hitching as it felt like those times Mingi would go down on her and would suckle on her clit. But this felt even better as she felt it not only on her clit, but all around her.

"You ok?" Mingi wanted to make sure before proceeding.

"I-I'm good. It's good, keep going." She encouraged him, which delighted him greatly.

Mingi pumped the valve 2 more times, watching in earnest as his girlfriend's hips arched up as the toy suctioned more of her inside. Her eyes were closed and her mouth which was agape was spilling out tiny moans as the blood flow was increasing throughout her nether region. She could already feel it become more sensitive and she could only imagine how it would feel afterwards.

"Please more." She cried out to her boyfriend, wanting to feel it suck her up even more.

Obliging to her request, Mingi pressed the pumper 2 more times, dick hardening as he watched her pussy lips cover the entire space around the rim of the cup, nearly bulging out at the sides. With the way Y/N's legs curled up he knew it was enough for now. Pressing the release valve, the cup began emitting a hushed hissing sound as it began detaching itself from his girlfriend's body, plopping down on the bed in between her legs.

"Holy hell." Mingi couldn't hide his shock when he saw the clearly visible results:

Her labia folds were engorged beyond anything he'd ever seen, her inner lips had a reddish tint to them and could be seen protruding out slightly, her clitoris was swollen and her entire region was pink colored due to all the pressure it had been under. Y/N curiously looked down to see and she herself was surprised by how her pussy was looking.

"Oh fuck." Her hand came up to cup her mouth.

Mingi couldn't stop staring at the image. She looked utterly delicious that he couldn't help himself as he began lowering his face until it was right in between her legs. Testing the waters first, he stuck his tongue out, laying it flat against her clit. When she felt his wet muscle touch her, Y/N let out a small whimper, her body moving slightly away from him as the sensation was too strong, her pussy feeling completely delicate.

"Too sensitive babygirl?" Mingi lifted his head up to take in her reaction.

"Like crazy." She had a tiny pout on her face which had Mingi smiling.

"I'll be sure to be very gently then princess."

With complete tenderness, Mingi began to place small kitten licks around her clit, sometimes flicking his tongue out, hitting her overly reactive bundle of nerves that had her shivering to an extent. With a slow movement, he dragged his tongue down one side of her puffy lips, once reaching her entrance he made sure to shove his tongue inside it, moderately thrusting it and out of her hole, muffled animalistic groans spilling from his luscious lips as he lapped up the secretions that were exuding from her body. Y/N began writhing more and more as Mingi dragged his tongue back up her other lip, teeth slightly grazing across it.

"Princess if you keep trying to push me away like that how am I supposed to fuck you?"

Biting down her lip, Y/N gestured with a roll of her eyes towards the pile of toys next to them.

"Tie me up daddy." Her voice came out as a challenge.

Raising an eyebrow at her, Mingi already began reaching for one of the silk ties that were available to him.

"You want that darling? Want daddy to tie you up and hold you down as I fuck your swollen pink pussy?"

Y/N's eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head as she imagined that.

"Oh God yes. Please fuck me."

Hearing her beg in earnest for him had Mingi fumbling to rid himself of his clothes. Y/N chuckled as it sort of reminded her of the very first time they were intimate. How he was super awkward yet eager to please her in any way he could. In a way, nothing really changed. The only change was that Mingi got more and more confident over time, clearly evident in as he began tying her hands together, one of them gripping her bound wrists to keep her arms above her head while the other began lining himself against her opening. He couldn't resist himself as he slapped his tip against her clit, seeing it twitch as Y/N whined in his ear, her thighs squeezing together from the overwhelming sting she felt. Giggling rather evilly, Mingi pried her legs open staring intently in between them as he began to push his length inside of her. Her walls were practically clinging onto him the more he stuffed himself inside her, her body involuntarily clenching around his cock as it was overly and intensely sensitive, her folds practically throbbing against his raw intrusion.

Pushing out slowly, Mingi moved very carefully, wanting to see first how much could she handle before he got more rough with her. Y/N was already releasing blissful pants, eyes shut as she began to get lost in the utterly obliterating pleasure she was receiving. It seemed whenever Mingi would pull out, it'd get harder as her cavern would hug him even tighter, craving him back inside where it belonged. Before she knew it her previously orgasm that was taken away slowly crept up once more, rapidly spreading down to the pit of her stomach, more so since her intimate parts were more receptive to any touch, but were especially reacting to the way Mingi's cock was sliding in and out of them. When Mingi's mouth began to suckle on the side of her neck, Y/N could feel like she was going to lose it. She didn't want to cum so early and on so little, but Mingi's kisses and his hot breath on her skin weren't helping her case.

"You have no idea how absolutely adorable your swollen lips look hugging my big cock. I wish you could see it."

Grunting softly as he picked up his pace, he bit down onto her shoulder, leaving behind a purple blotch.

"Maybe I should grab my phone and record it all for you to see. Would you like that princess? So you can see how daddy's fat cock looks against your engorged pussy?"

Before she could even comprehend what was happening or how, Y/N trembled under Mingi's body, her hips jolting up as she began spasming from the high she was currently reaching. Mingi looked at her in utter amazement, unable to believe she really just came so fast. Sure he knew the toy would make the sex feel even better...but he never imagined it'd be that good. Even so, he couldn't help the relentless teasing he was going to give her.

"Awww princess..you came so fast, it's such a shame."

Smiling darkly down at her, Mingi began to ram his dick deep inside her, hips snapping up at a brutal pace as his pelvis brushed against her throbbing clit each time his bulbous tip hit that sweet spot inside of her. Y/N began squirming and writhing, her body both pleading to get away from him but also wanting to keep the feeling from continuing. The room was becoming filled with the sound of their skin slapping against each other, the frantic wailing coming out of Y/N's lips and Mingi's sinful growls that protruded from his throat. The hand that was holding her hip down moved to place itself on top of her stomach, pressing her down further onto the bed while simultaneously rubbing the bulge that was clearly outlining his length which was currently destroying her insides.

"So small, such a tiny precious baby. You're so pretty my little one."

He couldn't hide the smug grin on his face as she began clenching once more around him.

"You love it when I remind you how much bigger I am in comparison to you right? Of course you do. Otherwise you wouldn't let me be here now, with my cock buried so deep inside of you princess even if it'll leave you shaking and limping for days."

Y/N couldn't contain herself as she began cumming once more under him, her toes curling and mind going numb as all she could focus on was the immense amount of pleasure Mingi was giving her. Her vision was brimmed with tears, some of them beginning to roll down her cheeks as she began whimpering and crying out at the intensity of it all.

"Awww princess. Dirty talk makes you become a mess all over me? How cute. I don't think you've cum this much in so little time."

Moving from her abdomen upwards, Mingi tugged on the nipple clamps still adorning her chest slightly, her body beginning to fret even more with the increased sensitivity he was putting her through.

"Can you cum a third time for me? I'm going to cum soon too. Cum all over your pretty, pink and puffy pussy. Cover it completely with my cum, I'm going to ruin you my little angel. I'll make sure you're a crying mess too."

Y/N's back arched as Mingi's hand began to rub against her clit which had turned from a pink shade to a more light red hue. The overstimulation from her two previous orgasms, her swollen lips that were sensitive even to a simple blow of air, Mingi's cock ramming deep inside her and his fingers working in between her legs, she began to shake and quiver as tiny splashes of liquid came rushing out, staining the blanket underneath them and some of it spurting onto her boyfriend's abs.

"Holy shit! Yes- just like that princess. Make a mess all over daddy's cock like the filthy girl I know you are."

Giving her just a couple more thrusts, Mingi pulled his glistening cock out and began pumping himself furiously, a stream of white liquid squirting out and landing on her thighs and on her enlarged lips. He raspy and carnal grunts were emitted by him as he finished himself off all over his girlfriend's reddened mound, the girl completely laying still as she had a look of being completely fucked out, her eyes staring intently at the ceiling. She regained her senses when she saw something coming over to cover her eyes, effectively rendering her blind for the moment.

"I'm not done yet princess. Daddy still wants to try more toys on you."

❀••══════◄••❀••►══════••❀

[nothing-but-haikyuu]

Black Cat & White Bunny

Reader: F Character: Tetsurõ Kuroo Rating: E Summary: Kuroo was a witch, or was it a wizard? A magic user? He wasn’t too sure what he’d call himself, but he liked his fair share of magic. And in a world where the art was dying, he was very keen on practicing as much as he could. But he wasn’t expecting was to meet a young woman, dressed in white, with a bunny familiar. Her smile dazzling, her eyes sharp and knowing and her skills unmatched.  Warning: Witch AU, Magic, Breeding Kink, Cunnilingus, Riding, Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Over use of the word ‘bunny’ Ask Box: Open | Check Out ThreadytoGoDesign | Join me on Patreon 

Kuroo was a witch, or was it a wizard? A magic user? He wasn’t too sure what he’d call himself, but he liked his fair share of magic. And in a world where the art was dying, he was very keen on practicing as much as he could. 

But he wasn’t expecting was to meet a young woman, dressed in white, with a bunny familiar. Her smile dazzling, her eyes sharp and knowing and her skills unmatched. 

And that is how the black cat witch married the white bunny witch. It was a smouldering summer evening, the city bustled and moved past sundown. The lights of the neon from the corner store under the apartment the two of your shared. The rattle of the air conditioning unit in the living room as Kuroo sat across from you at the small kitchen table with books piled high and the scratch of pen against paper. 

  “This isn’t going to work.” You remarked, “Using magic to boost my fertility, isn’t that again some rules?” You looked up at your husband. He pushed hair out of his face and looked back at you. 

  “Not that I know of, plus they’ve been using this for centuries. We’ve been trying for a year with no avail, it’s about time we did things a little out of the ordinary.”

  “A child made from magic could be trouble.” You gave your husband a stern point. But he was right in a way, nothing else seemed to be working. No matter how hard you tried, you never seemed to be able to conceive. But tonight was the night, the moon was high and full, the magic was strong, and you two were determined to make a baby.

  “Not anything we couldn’t handle. Plus, a baby by the two of us, would be trouble. A black cat and a white bunny, no way that kid is gonna be a saint.” He laughed before he reached out and touched your arm, “I want to be with you, baby. I want to have a family, and if a touch of magic is needed, then so be it.” 

You smiled at your husband and said, “Okay.” And gripped his wrist with your other hand, “I think we’re getting close.” Before you pulled away and continued looking. 

Soon enough you had a recipe for fertility. When he blended it all together, you almost gagged at the smell of it, Kuroo grimaced and put a bit of honey in it and said, “Just pinch your nose. Think of it like a tequila shot, a thick, green tequila shot.”

 “If this doesn’t work-”

  “I know. It’s my balls on the cutting board. Now c’mon, moon will be at its highest soon.” He patted you on the head then leaned in for a kiss on your head. He watched you down the mixture, wince and exhale deeply. 

Your loving husband took your hand and led you to the bedroom. Once he got you towards the bed, he started to tug at the bottom of your t-shirt. He said, “Let’s get you more comfortable. “ His lips were at your ear, “I wanna see my witchy wife’s beautiful body before I throughly knock her up.” 

  “Oh shut it.” You exhaled, “You can’t just say stuff like that.” Then peeled off your t-shirt then your bra. Kuroo’s large hands were on your breasts in an instant, your nipples in between his middle and pointer fingers as he licked his lips. 

  “This is the good stuff.” He said, “Soon to be full of milk. I hope you let daddy get a taste.” 

  “I think you have a thing for pregnant women.” 

  “No, no. Only you, my little bunny.” He kissed the shell of your ear before he let go of you, smacked your ass and watched you sit on the bed in an attempt to wrestle your jean shorts off. He chuckled lightly at the struggle before he got down on his knees in between your legs and pulled down the shorts to your knees. Then your thin, pale blue panties. He kissed your inner thigh, not minding the bit of hair that was there. He then carefully pulled off the shorts and underwear, and tossing them over his shoulder.

  “Tetsurō.” You whimpered. 

  “There, there.” He said lovingly, “Just relax. I’m going to take care of you, as a husband should.” 

You were starting to feel the magical mixture start to take effect, you felt warm all over, your nipples were hard. You felt a slight cramp in your stomach and as the moon grew higher, you felt more aroused. It didn’t help that your husband’s head was between your legs, his wet tongue up against your slit. 

 “Mmm.” He said, “Beautiful. Let’s make you nice and wet.” His sharp eyes looked at you, “Let this kitty cat take care of his bunny. Eat her out like the feast she is.” 

  “Tetsur-”

  “No, no. You’re gonna cum at least once before we get started. If it gets too much, you know what to do. I’m not stopping until I am very much planted inside of you.” 

  “Fuck.” You gasped as his tongue brushed against your clit. Pleasure raced up your spine and your hands found his dark hair. You combed your digits through it and gasped.

Kuroo smirked to himself. Loving how you said that word, almost breathless and out of your mind. He knew the mixture was taking effect, a few spells, some out there ingredients, all put together to get his little bunny all knocked up. He was hoping that you were going to have a whole litter by the time was done with you. 

He continued to lick at your clit, two fingers were inserted inside of your wet heat and you moaned even louder while made him quite pleased with himself. He pleasured you with tongue and fingers, feeling your tightness around him. You tasted divine on his tongue, he felt you clench around his fingers as you gripped his hair. 

  “Tetsurõ, please. Fuck. I’m getting close.” You whined as you held onto him tighter and felt pleasure wash over you even more. It was a pleasurable feeling to be adored by your husband, especially one with such a wicked tongue. 

  “That’s it.” He purred, he shoved a third finger inside of you, feeling you clench, “That’s my little bunny, all hyped up on pleasure. It’s okay, cum when you need to.” Then went back to pleasuring you with his tongue, feeling your wetness on his chin.

You soon came, clutching onto his hair and arching your back as you pressed him further against you wet heat. The pleasure was too overwhelming that you squirted around his fingers, your wetness coating his entire hand by the time you started to come down from your high. 

Kuroo pulled his head away and smirked, “That was just the appetizer, my little bunny.” he got back up to his feet and wiped his sticky hand against his jeans, “We’re just getting started.”

He peeled off his white tank top, letting the necklace he wore dangle on his bare skin. Soon came off his blue jeans and underwear. He licked his lips and said, “Get further up, baby. Show your husband how beautiful you look.”

You exhaled deeply and pushed hair out of your eyes before you laid fully on the bed, exposing your wet sex to him, your hard nipples, your warmed face. He couldn’t get enough of your beautiful form. This was the woman he married, with the bunny familiar, the unmatched skills and the beauty to die for..

Your breathing was still heavy as you watched him climb onto the bed and come over to you. He lazily made out with you, his face flushed with his own lust, his cock was full attention and leaking with pre-cum. 

  “Please, Tetsurō. Make me a mama bunny.” You reached out for him and deepened the kiss. You rolled yourself onto of him, you broke the kiss the straddle him before you went back to making out with him. 

Kuroo’s hands found your hips as his cock pressed against you pussy, it was so wet, so tempting. Sweet desire between thick thighs. You were the perfect witch, the perfect wife and soon to be the perfect mother.

  “Ready to start?” You asked. 

  “More than ever.” He smirked. He winced as you sat yourself onto his hard cock, all eight inched buried inside of your wetness. His hands dug into your hips and hi eyes rolled back as he felt your soft walls. 

  “Like that?” You asked playfully, you pushed hair out of your eyes once more before you braced yourself onto 

  “Seems like you’re getting into it.” He chuckled. 

  “With one mind blowing orgasm, I start to see your way of thinking. The moons is gonna be at its highest soon.” You smiled, “That gross potion better be worth it.” You said slyly, “Or I’m fucking you over and over again until I’m pregnant with triplets.”

  “Oh don’t worry.” He said, his voice low and deadly, “I’m gonna be making sure of that.” And thrusted up into you. You rolled your head back and started to move your hips, your nails in the soft skin of his chest. 

  “Good.” You smirked as you moved. You grinded your hips against him as you rode his cock. There was nothing like having sex with your husband, he was such a good fuck. He was a loving man but left your knees jelly. 

  “Fuck, I love you.” He gasped. 

  “I love you too.” You moaned as you moved. He moved with you, a team effort to make a baby. Your little half bunny- half cat witch baby. You wondered who they would take after, but knowing Kuroo, it would be him. 

You continued to make out with him, the creak of the bed, slapping skin and your wet make out filled the air. You rocked your hips back and forth. you felt the second orgasm come up on your rather quickly. Stupid potion. You managed to cum twice on his cock before he was even close to cumming. Three orgasms left you sweaty and flushed, but you kept moving back and forth on his cock. 

Your bodies moved together as you rode him, heavy breathing, loud moans, Kuroo practically panting from the need to cum. You started to leave hickies on his neck, a symbol of your love for him. 

  “You look good marked up.” You chuckled lightly. 

  “Oh don’t worry, you look better. And you’ll be marked up with me pretty soon. Fuck, I’m close.” He panted. 

You two continued to move, the busy outside paid no mind to your love making as the moon hit its peak, magic was at its highest and if all went well, the mixture would work in your favour. 

  “I can’t wait to see you knocked up. I can’t wait to breed you, you’re just so perfect. My bunny is gonna be round with child. The little bunny witch.” He reached out for your stomach and laid both hands on it, “And I’ll be the one impregnating you.” He purred. 

Kuroo kept his hands on your stomach as he finally hit his pea and finished inside of you. Spurts of cum fill your deepest parts, you moans and arched your back as you felt hot heat inside of you. You clamped your legs around his hips as you felt him finish. 

His eyes rolled back, a loud groan mixed with cursing passed his lips and he finished inside of you. Where it should be. When he finished, he relaxed against the bed and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. 

  “Oh, fuck.” He gasped. 

  “That was amazing.” You said as you flopped over beside him on the bed, ass up and completely nude in front of your husband. Kuroo noticed your curves, the dangle of your breasts from the angle.

He reached over and slapped your ass, “And the night isn’t over.” He moved, “I’m not done with you yet. I promise it was going to take.” He rubbed your flesh, “And I know by the time the sunrises, you’ll be very much pregnant, my little bunny.” 

  “Fuck.” You moaned. You knew you were going to be in for a long night. 

Ten months later, you were sitting on the couch nursing your one month old daughter. She was a stunning image of her father, from even the roosterhead. But your little big of magic snuck in, in the tuft of hair that your daughter had there was a white streak. The magic of the white bunny. 

You kissed your daughter on the head as you noticed Kuroo eyeing your breasts. He licked his lips and you rolled your eyes. 

  “When she goes to bed, Tetsurō.”

  “Whatever you say, bunny. But you know this kitty wants his milk too.” He leaned in and kissed you, “And maybe we can start trying for another. This time a cat witch.” He winked. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Whatever you say.” You knew you’d be handling two babies in the near future if your husband kept acting like that. He did promise multiples anyway, and who ever saw a bunny or cat with just one baby?

[enby-hawke]

Chapter 21- Possession

Ship: Malcolm/Leandra

Words:5609 

Tw: domestic abuse, violence

Malcolm spent hours lying in the dark, feeling every bone in his body ache. His back was on fire, so stiff every movement made his joints flare. The healing scabs were itchy and uncomfortable. It was agonizing being awake, time crawling by like a leisurely sloth as the drip-drip-drip of the pipes echoed in his head.

Malcolm couldn’t bear to sleep and hear Chef and the other spirits tell him all the things he’d done wrong, again. Only pain awaited him in the Fade, so he laid in the dark until his mind burned with exhaustion and his only thoughts were of Leandra.

He wondered if she was currently lying in that other man’s arms. Wondered if that man was tasting the sweetness of her lips. Was she sighing his name? Was he making her moan? Had she already moved on, leaving Malcolm forever a record skipping on the same beat.

The thoughts burned, burned Malcolm more than his bone-bruised body, bled Malcolm more than the lesions on his seeping skin. He couldn’t bear the idea of Leandra moving on. Deep-seated hate twisted his heart as he fantasized about all the ways he would destroy his rival.

Malcolm fingered Leandra’s ribbon on his wrist, his only source of comfort in this torture. For the first time in his life, he found himself praying to the Maker. To give him one more chance to make it up to Leandra. To somehow bring her back into his arms where she belonged. He clung to that hope like a drowning man, begging the Maker for Mercy.

But the fire lancing Malcolm's back reminded him how sadistic the Maker’s cruelty was. Was He having a good chuckle at Malcolm’s misery? Was He chuckling at everyone else's misery, too?

The stone walls of the cell echoed with his cellmates' crying, and every once in a while he heard an agonizing scream, like someone was dying. Malcolm tried not to think about what was happening to them. Part of him wanted to weep himself, to bawl until he was hoarse, but he did none of that. He just listened quietly in the dark, until finally hours later sleep claimed his frayed mind.

The flower forest was dark, cloaked in shadow, the flowers drooping to the ground. The clouds hid the sky, stormy and flickering with lightning.

Malcolm realized he was still lying on the ground, his body too sore to move. Compassion held his head in her lap, stroking his curls like his mother used to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, brushing his bangs from his forehead. “That should not have happened to you.”

The dam broke at last. All the rage, all the agony, all the pain came bursting out at once, like Compassion was drawing pus from an infected wound. Before Malcolm could stop himself, tears erupted from his throat and he clung to her skirt and sobbed until his throat was raw. She stroked his back, humming his mother’s lullaby, healing the aches he was still feeling from his bone-deep bruises. Soothing energy ran through his body, cooling his burning aches until it felt like his body had been bathed in a pleasantly cool pond.

Honesty, Kindness, and Chef surrounded Malcolm, harmonizing with Compassion soothingly. They stayed like that for a long time letting Malcolm empty his sorrows, saying nothing.

It felt like hours had passed, before Malcolm finally grew tired of crying. 

No longer blinded by tears, he was heartened to see Honesty had grown. They were about the size of a child, their golden hair feathery and fluffy. Their nose was beaky and their eyes as wide as saucers, very owl-like.

But that triumph was soon dashed when Malcolm saw Kindness sitting on Honesty’s shoulder, looking tired and sleepy. Their pink baby form could barely hold itself up, their light fading. 

Malcolm sighed raggedly as he sat himself up, wiping his wet face. “I guess I fucked up, again.”

“Indeed, you did.” Chef placed a bowl of piping hot pancet into Malcolm’s lap. “But that can wait. Now, eat. You’re very hurt.”

Malcolm didn’t have to be told twice. He scooped some noodles with his fingers and spooned them into his mouth. Immediately the meaty savory unending flavour regenerated his energy, and suddenly he was brought back to a memory of his mother.  

Malcolm had been playing video games since his dad was working the late shift, a small miracle. His mother rarely let him indulge in games for too long. Most of his spare time was spent studying for college, which was still at least a good decade away.

“Malcolm, dinner’s ready. Come eat!” His mother called from the kitchen.

Malcolm’s eyes stayed glued to the TV, trying to get the plumber man into the next tunnel before the time ran out. “Just a minute, Mamae. This level’s almost done.”

“Five minutes, but then your food will get cold and it won’t taste good so don’t dawdle.”

Malcolm’s fingers moved like lightning, trying to beat the level within his mother’s time constraint, slaying knights with fireballs and bouncing on wyverns and dragons for their golden coins. Only a minute later, the plumber man had emerged from the underground tunnel and Malcolm got him past the flag. Malcolm threw the controller in the air, hooting in victory.

From the kitchen, his mother laughed, like water babbling over a brook. “That was fast. I take it you won?”

“Fuck yeah, I dominated! Told you I’d only need a minute!”

His mother sighed in exasperation. “Malcolm, what did I tell you about that foul language? The Maker can hear you.”

Malcolm’s shoulders rose to his pointed ears, knowing that he might be grounded for that. “Sorry, Mamae. It just came out.” He turned back towards the kitchen and froze, stunned that for the first time in almost a decade, his mother’s face was as clear as a sunny day.

Malcolm thought he looked a lot like his father. Everyone told him so, but now that the memory was so clear, it was apparent just how much he took after his mother. His father’s curls were tighter, closer to coils, unlike the curls he shared with his mother, loose open spirals that cascaded down her shoulders in fluffy waves. His father’s golden eyes were more like hard metal, unlike the soft honey color his mother had given him. And while his father had creased droopy eyes that always looked disappointed, both his mother and he shared the same flat monolids that crinkled up into playful half moons when they smiled. His mother’s smooth dark brown skin was free of freckles or moles, but Malcolm realized he had her lips and the shape of her ears too. Even their laugh was similar.

Malcolm teared up as the child version of him scooted eagerly towards their cramped dinner table. His mother ruffled his loose curls and kissed his forehead. “Happy Birthday, Malcolm. I’m sorry it isn’t much.”

Malcolm’s baby face grinned eagerly through a mouthful of noodles. “Naw, Mamae. It’s perfect.”

Then the memory disappeared, like sand being blown away by a gust.

Malcolm quietly spooned bite after bite with his hand, the memory of his mother’s face filling him with peace.

Chef sat across from him. “After a lot of experimentation, I managed to clean up the memory. Use it when you need it.”

Malcolm nodded, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t know how to thank Chef, so he just kept eating, hoping Chef knew how grateful he was.

Chef cupped his hands and summoned a bowl of ramen. “Now that you’re more stable, you must fix what you’ve done.”

Compassion snapped her head at Chef, a scowl on her face. “It’s not the time to push the Somniari. He’s at his limit.”

Chef pointed with his chopsticks, a piece of egg attached. “Do we have a choice? Kindness is almost dead again and, without Love’s lands, Zelophehad’s domain grows.”

Compassion’s face twisted in a snarl. “Do you think I do not mourn Love’s loss? But if we break the Somniari, Zelophehad wins anyways. Now is not the time. Be patient.”

Malcolm wiped his face, blinking away the rest of his tears as he listened to the conversation. “Wait. What? What did I do now?”

Chef gobbled up the egg and stuffed more noodles into his mouth. As he ate he said, “Your actions in the waking world corrupted your most powerful Guardian Spirit. Love has turned into Possession, and now she is a pawn of Zelophehad. I do not want to scold you when you’re already hurt, Somniari, but this is a very ill omen.”

Malcolm's fingers scooped up the rest of the noodles, slurping them down and then he tipped the bowl into his mouth and drank the rest of the sauce, needing every comfort the memory had to offer. Then wiping his wet hand on his shirt, he stood up. “Alright, Chef. Tell me what to do.”

Chef took his chopsticks and tapped Malcolm’s heart. “You need to go into the heart of Possession’s territory and cleanse her and yourself of your tainted emotions.”

Compassion rose, her face contorted with worry. “Somniari, no.” She took Malcolm’s hand. “It is not a failing to admit one’s limits. Love still lives as Possession. You can still heal her in time, but not when you are not healed yourself.”

Malcolm snapped his hand back. “I’m fine. I can do it.” Malcolm rolled his shoulders, still feeling the stiffness of the skin on his back. “Besides, what choice do I have? Zelophehad is targeting me in the real world. I’m running out of time. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

Compassion folded her hands together, pleading. “You can choose to love yourself first. That act alone will preserve you when all else is lost.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth. Love himself? That seemed like stupid advice. What she was asking was impossible.

Malcolm avoided Compassion’s imploring gaze and turned back to Chef. “Take me to Possession.”

Chef nodded, summoning a bright purple door. “Right away, Somniari.”

Compassion’s shoulders dropped.

Malcolm walked up to the door when Compassion’s hand stopped him on the shoulder. “Wait,” her azure eyes were burning, her blue lips in a thin line. Her voluminous open curls were billowing in a breeze that wasn’t there, as a crystal tear fell down her cheek.

Malcolm snapped his head in a glare. “You can’t stop me.”

Compassion turned a shade of green but she swallowed down her gag. “I am not stopping you.” She wiped her tear and placed the crystal drop over his heart. Malcolm felt something inside him unlock. He was suddenly connected to her, feeling her life-giving magic adding to his own. Suddenly all the pain he was still feeling was gone, his mind more awake and burning with energy, his senses heightened and more alert. His hands sparked, feeling like an overcharged battery.

Malcolm stared at his hands glowing with blue light. “What did you do?”

Compassion touched his cheek, and he could feel a maternal love radiating from her. “I have Bonded with you. It will protect you from Zelophehad’s possession. Now you can use my strength, no matter how far apart we are. We are connected, no matter what separates us.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking a big risk Bonding with me. I thought I would corrupt you.”

Compassion smiled and cupped his cheek. “You have grown a lot, Somniari. If you insist on risking yourself, it only seems right I risk myself, too.” With gentle hands, she placed her hands on his shoulders and turned him back towards the door. “Remember you control the Fade. Zelophehad will try to alter your path, but just follow Chef’s guidance. Do not be seduced by the darkness of your thoughts.” She gently pushed him forward. “I will stay behind and guard Kindness’ lands. If you need aid at any time, reach into your heart and I will come.”

Malcolm nodded, solemnly, his limbs locking for a fight, but he forced himself to set down his hostility and think only of the peace of his mother’s face.

With trembling fingers, he opened the door and saw swirling darkness, almost like a galaxy. There was a malevolent energy seeping from the portal, sucking out all life.

Chef shivered and slurped down some more noodles. “Alright, stick close, and don’t get distracted.”

Chef stepped through the portal and Malcolm gritted his teeth, following close behind.

Stepping through the portal was like stepping through a vat of static electricity. Malcolm could feel all his hair stand on end.

Exiting to the other side, Malcolm found himself on the edge of a stormy shore, the sky swirling into the sea in a big whirlpool, draining to the bottom of an endless chasm. Rain pelted Malcolm in hard bullets, blinding his vision. The green clouds in the sky rumbled with lightning that shot down, making glass from the sand.

Malcolm looked around for Chef, but couldn’t see him anywhere. Malcolm tried not to panic, but he could feel the edges of his calm fraying as the waves crashed into his legs and started pulling him in with the tide.

Malcolm stumbled, his footing uneasy and shaky. He managed to catch himself and backed further towards the shore, but he found he was on an island and there was nowhere to retreat to. He was quickly soaked and freezing cold, the sand’s shards digging in between his toes.

Malcolm’s breathing was getting heavy as he shivered. The waves threatened to bowl him over. “Chef! Where are you?” he called out, his eyes darting around for the angry red figure.

“A slight miscalculation on my part,” Chef’s voice rang in his head. “Possession has separated us physically, but do not panic, I am close. I can still guide you from where I am.” A light started to glimmer on the distant and stormy horizon. “Just keep going. I’ll follow your trail.”

That was easier said than done. Without Chef there to physically ground him, Malcolm felt like he was quickly sinking, his thoughts spiraling.

“Breathe, Somniari. Focus. Shape the Fade. Don’t let it shape you,” Chef’s sharp voice brought him back, and Malcolm snapped his spine straight.

Malcolm steeled himself, connecting his mind to the Fade. He could feel the Fade resisting him, being pulled to the call of a different master. Malcolm knew it would be a battle of wills. “Show me the way,” he demanded.

The island suddenly started stretching out before his feet, creating a sandy bridge over the stormy waters. The rain made it hard to see too far ahead. The bridge looked fragile, sand dripping from it and disappearing into the churning waters below. 

Malcolm walked slowly forward, high waves lapping at his feet, making his steps unsteady. The roar of the rain and waves was deafening and he could hardly hear himself think.

Soon the bridge started branching off into different directions, and Malcolm wasn’t sure which was the right path forward. Some of the paths winded upwards into the heavens, connecting to islands in the sky. Other paths snaked off in random directions as far as the horizon stretched. More paths led to the murky depths below, following the curve of the whirlpool. Malcolm looked behind him and the bridge was collapsing, blocking his way back, so he was stranded on a strip of land floating in midair.

Malcolm chose the most direct path forward, still following the light on the horizon, unsure he wasn't walking into a trap. The bridge stretched on and on, forming as he walked, and soon he was over the draining whirlpool. A terrifying thought occurred to him about how flimsy this bridge was and just how easily he could just fall in.

It only took one moment of panic for the bridge to collapse from under him. He fell freely, screaming into the void. His mother’s smiling face flashed before his eyes, and he reached out to the Fade connecting with it. With a sharp snap of his spine, he convinced himself there was ground beneath his feet, and the Fade responded to him by catching him again before he fell into the chasm.

He was now stranded on a bridge that connected to nothing.

Malcolm’s bangs were stuck to his slick forehead, falling into his eyes and temporarily blinding him. He looked above him at all the branching paths, trying to get a sense of where to go, but his intuition was giving him nothing. “Chef!” he called out. “I’m lost.”

“You are only lost if you let yourself be,” Chef reminded him. “The Fade responds to your intention. If you seek to find Possession, then she cannot hide from you.”

A rogue wave broke off from the whirlpool and swept across the bridge and pelted Malcolm, knocking him off his feet. Something in the water wrapped around his foot and started dragging him down. He reached out with his hands, his fingers making grooves in the sand as he was dragged along.

“You wanted to find me?” a bloodthirsty feminine voice echoed from the depths of the whirlpool.

“Somniari,” Chef called out. “Take control!”

But before Malcolm could, he was pulled into the whirlpool. His body tumbled freely through the water. Malcolm’s fingers grasped for purchase, trying to find some way to catch himself, but something pulled his head under. Freezing water filled his lungs, shocking his body with ice cold needles. He gagged, flailing, unable to take in a life-giving breath. He could feel the darkness surrounding him, and his chest burned. Bubbles fell from his nose and mouth as he silently screamed.

The waves battered him as he struggled to keep his wits. He needed to calm down and breathe again, but water kept choking him. He tried to remind himself that this was the Fade, he was dreaming, but the churning waters felt so real his mind couldn’t tell the difference.

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and the pain helped clear some of the panic in his mind. Reaching out with a hand, he called to the Fade, and a rope wrapped around his wrist and started pulling him out. But the waters were vicious, still threatening to pull him under.

Malcolm gritted his teeth, pulling hand over hand as he yanked himself out of the water. Finally, he broke the surface and swung out into the middle of the whirlpool, dangling from a rope that reached into the sky, tethered to nothing. He shivered violently as heavy water weighed down his clothes. The darkness of the chasm below him was filled as Zelophehad's goat eyes opened.

“How kind of you to offer yourself to me.”

Malcolm steeled himself from the panic that was threatening to overtake him. He almost slipped, the rain making it difficult to retain his grip on the rope, but he managed to hold on. “You can’t do shit to me if I don’t fight you.”

Zelophehad’s goat eyes swirled in delight as more tentacles reached up from the chasm and wrapped around Malcolm’s body, ripping away his fragile hold on the rope and seizing him midair. “I may not be able to hurt you directly, but I am not alone, am I?”

A dark purple Spirit with long flowing hair, jagged scales, and a long shark tail parted the whirlpool like a curtain, riding a swirling stream of water. With a razor-toothed smile, she pointed a jagged harpoon at Malcolm.

“So kind of you to corrupt her. I’d say you’re doing my job for me,” Zelophehad’s cruel mocking laugh rang in Malcolm’s ears as his tentacles squeezed and strangled him.

Possession laughed and threw the harpoon. It whizzed through the air, darting straight for Malcolm’s heart.

Malcolm cried out for help, his eyes shutting closed as he flinched for the final blow.

He heard a sharp clang, metal hitting metal, and Malcolm opened his eyes to see that Chef had knocked the harpoon’s trajectory with an overly large spatula. He then turned around and shoved a cookie in Malcolm’s gaping mouth.

“Focus, Somniari!”

Malcolm could hear the memory of Charlie’s mischievous laughter in his ears as he chewed and swallowed the cookie, crumbs flecking out his full mouth. Remembering his friend’s opportunistic theft from the Circle’s kitchen leeched the fear from Malcolm’s bones.

Zelophehad’s tentacles loosened as Malcolm regained his senses. “Free me!” Malcolm reached out for the Fade, and it responded to his call with a blinding white light that parted the storming clouds. As the light fell on Zelophehad’s black inky tentacles, the appendages shriveled and smoked.

Zelophehad screeched and let Malcolm go and Malcolm was left free-falling back into the whirlpool’s chasm.

As Malcolm plummeted through the air, his fingers combed the air, pulling matter together below him. A cloud solidified and caught him mid-air in a floof, before he could plummet into the spiked rocks below.

“Well done, Somniari.” Chef was locked in battle with Possession, parrying her harpoon expertly. “Forget Zelophehad. He cannot harm you if you do not let him. Focus on cleansing Possession!”

The light continued to shine brightly, keeping Zelophehad’s tentacles from leaving the chasm.

But Possession seemed unaffected by the light in her own realm. She laughed, a warped shrill sound that chilled Malcolm. “And how will he do that? Even now, I can feel the possession in the Somniari’s heart. He cannot cleanse me.”

Chef turned to Malcolm, his sharp teeth snarling. “Do not listen to her. You can!”

Malcolm stood up on his feet shakily. He could see Zelophehad’s tentacles writhing in the water, his large goat eyes fixated on Malcolm in interest.

Malcolm reached out his hands, the strings connecting the Fade flowing from his fingers like harp threads. He could sense this whole realm belonged to Possession, and the corruption ran deep into the core of this place. Malcolm roped the Fade strings around Possession’s wrists, holding her fast and keeping her from attacking Chef.

Immediately he felt connected with Possession, could feel her sickening hold on his heart. She thrashed her tail as Malcolm lassoed her closer to him.

Possession smirked cruelly, not fighting against her restraints. “You think yourself so different from your father, but you both hold the same Possession in your heart.”

“She will try to plant doubt. Hold strong!” Chef cried.

Malcolm’s lips curled into a scowl as he narrowed his eyes at the fish Spirit. “You know nothing about me.”

Possession smiled with razor teeth and snapped a taloned finger.

Behind Possession mirages of Malcolm and his father stood on opposite sides of her.

Malcolm’s father grabbed a fistful of his mother’s curls, snarling viciously as he yanked her hair back. “You think you can just run off and fuck whoever you want? I’ll kill you!”

Simultaneously Malcolm saw himself grabbing Leandra’s arm with the same feral expression mirrored on his face. Leandra’s eyes were wide with fright as he pointed at Jaheem and yelled, “What is he doing putting his hands on you?!”

Malcolm stepped back, almost falling off the vaporous cloud he was standing on.

Possession’s smirk widened, and Zelophehad’s warped laugh filled Malcolm’s ears.

“Yes, you understand now. You abhor everything about your father and yet you carry him in your actions.” Zelophehad’s cruel words rooted in Malcolm, turning knots in his stomach.

Malcolm tried to blink away the mirage of himself and his father, but he just saw more shadows of himself when he closed his eyes, leering over Leandra, seizing hold of her, pinning her to the ground. “No, I-” His hands shook violently, his stomach sick. “I would never hurt Leandra!”

An image of Malcolm pinning Leandra to her bed with a flaming fist projected on the swirling darkness of the chasm below. “Wouldn’t you?” Zelophehad’s warped voice simpered, his clusters of goat eyes distorting the image. “You’re a ticking bomb waiting to explode. You’ve hurt everyone that has ever loved you. You taint everything you touch with your filth. Would you not be better off dead?” Then Malcolm’s flaming fist swooped towards Leandra and the whole mirage went up in flames.

Malcolm’s throat constricted. He wanted to deny everything, but the truth was eating him up. He saw his father’s face in his snarl. Saw the same ugly jealousy mirrored within him. How had he become his own worst nightmare?   

Chef popped up beside Malcolm, waving his spatula for attention. “No, Somniari! You heal the Veil with your voice. You can bring back the birth of Peace, but you must hold strong and not let Zelophehad’s words take root.”

“But he’s right,” Malcolm could feel his heart cracking into pieces at the realization. He looked at his hands, the Fade strings vibrating with the memory of what he did. “I’m a monster.”

Possession’s grin was so wide, her face looked split in half. “You know you must take Leandra back, by whatever means possible. You belong together. You know it in your heart.”

Hearing his own words in the demon’s voice made bile rise in his mouth. Instead of cleansing the demon, he could feel her corruption seep through their connection, rousing the raging jealousy within him.

Possession’s shark tail thrashed, her gills gaping as she curled in on itself, as her wicked words took root. “Kill your rival. Make sure Leandra knows that she is yours and yours alone. Make her remember her promise to you.” Possession licked her sharp teeth. “She loves you. You love her. That’s all that matters.”

Malcolm wanted to scream, to deny everything, but he knew he would be lying. Ever since he learned of Jaheem’s existence, Malcolm had only ever thought of hurting him. But hearing the demon encourage those dark thoughts sparked a double-edged feeling of desire and fear. Malcolm could feel the demon siphoning out his violent urges like blood through a needle.

Possession’s dark words echoed within him, as she reached through their connection and pulled at the agony in his heart like a fraying knot. “You can’t live without Leandra. She is your heart. Your hope. Your life. Without her you will never taste happiness again. Her laugh will haunt you. You will forever lie awake aching for her touch.” 

It was true. Every word of it. And he couldn’t bring himself to deny it.

Possession reached out her hand, her aura darkening the Fade strings connecting them to a dark inky purple with her words. “Leandra belongs to you. Take her!”

He wanted to. He needed to.

Chef took Malcolm by the shoulder, turned his head to look him in the eye. “No! Somniari! Love cannot thrive caged in fear. You must cleanse your heart. Let Leandra go.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened in alarm. “No,” he said immediately without thinking. The thought of living without her was shredding his heart to pieces. “No, I love her. I need her. She’s mine!”

And then the cloud he was standing on lost its solidity and Malcolm fell through the vapor. The Fade strings snapped from Possession and she broke free from Malcolm’s grasp.

Malcolm fell a few feet in the air, before Chef caught him by the hand and he dangled over the jagged rocks.

With a wave of Possession’s hand, the harpoon came back to her and she aimed it at Malcolm’s heart.

Chef was having difficulty holding Malcolm in the air while dodging Zelophehad’s flailing limbs. “Did you not hear what I said? Foolish Somniari! Now Possession has taken hold of your powers.”

Malcolm tried calling on his magic, but the Fade wasn’t responding. Malcolm’s heart galloped in his chest as he realized he was completely helpless. “What do I do?”

“I already told you! Let Leandra go!”

Malcolm’s heart lurched, tears pricking his eyes. “I can’t! Anything but that!”

Then Possession threw the harpoon. It whistled through the air. Chef tried to dodge out of its path but the harpoon zeroed in on Malcolm, as if attracted to his energy.

It pierced Malcolm’s chest and hot raw pain flooded through him. He coughed out blood, as the harpoon’s energy stuck to his energy and rooted in, gnarling him with burning jealousy. Darkness flooded him as he was consumed by a thirsty, murderous rage. Malcolm needed to kill Jaheem like he needed air in his lungs, water to quench his thirst. He needed to wrap his fingers around Jaheem’s throat and watch the life drain out of his eyes. Malcolm needed to watch Jaheem’s corpse burn into ashes so no one else could claim Leandra.

Chef started to warp under Malcolm’s touch. “The battle is lost, Somniari. Possession has cursed you. Retreat back to your world before Zelophehad claims you.”

But Malcolm couldn’t even do that. Zelophehad’s warped wet voice laughed menacingly. Malcolm could feel his grip slipping out of Chef’s hands as Possession readied a second harpoon.

Then Chef lost hold of Malcolm and he found himself falling into the air again as the harpoon whizzed in his direction. Malcolm clasped his heart, still impaled by the first harpoon, and reached inside himself, calling for help one last time.

He could feel soothing energy responding to his call, the burning pain of rage cooling in his heart. “I have heard your call for aid, Somniari,” Compassion’s voice echoed inside him. “It is time for you to wake up.”

Then a barrier he didn’t call smashed against the harpoon splintering it to pieces. 

Malcolm’s body started to fade as he hit the bottom of the chasm, phasing through the jagged rocks. He kept falling, tumbling, vertigo heaving his guts up his throat.

Malcolm sat up suddenly, almost hitting Carver in the forehead, but Carver’s quick reflexes had him ducking back before they collided. Malcolm’s eyes flew open as he gasped heavily, bile burning his mouth. He gagged and spat it out onto the floor, feeling his stomach flip and turn. He still had the sense that he was falling, until he realized he had been thrown back rather hastily to his body in the waking world. His head jostled, parts of his conscience still lingering behind in the Fade.

Malcolm coughed violently, spitting up blood. 

“Hey, easy there.” Carver took Malcolm by the shoulders, squeezing some tension out of them. “I tried to wake you up but you looked like you were having a bad dream.” Carver’s eyes fell to Malcolm’s lap. “But I take it you were in the Fade again.”

Malcolm wiped his mouth. His first instinct was to lie, but he caught it halfway out of his mouth and he looked down guiltily. “Was it that obvious?”

Carver sat back on the floor next to Malcolm and handed him a bag of what smelled like fresh burgers and fries. “Well, you were always hard to wake up. But now that I know about you being Somniari, it makes more sense.”

Malcolm rubbed his chest, still feeling the pierced edge of the harpoon rooted in his heart, the edges of his murderous rage still burning in his throat. Trying to forget about it, Malcolm eagerly dug into the burger bag and pulled out some fries, grateful they were still warm. He shoved a fistful into his mouth, the salty greasy potatoes distracting him from all the aches he felt in his body. The rusty blood in his mouth almost ruined the flavor, but another bite fixed that. 

Carver waited for Malcolm to scarf down his first burger before saying, “There’s been another murder.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened, some fries falling out of his mouth.

“The body was found in the harbor a few hours ago, which is why I couldn’t come until morning.” Carver’s eyes went glassy. “Nobody we know. She was a young pregnant Darktown woman with no ties that anyone knows of. Left behind two little ones that are being sent to the Chantry orphanage, Maker save them, but thank His Grace that they were spared. We’re going to have to scan the victim’s implant for identification, if she had one at all. We couldn’t find any on the orphans.” Carver gritted his teeth as he looked down at his hands. “But the good news is that you were imprisoned for this murder, so the chances you’re to be blamed for this are minimal. And with another body, we might be able to nail down our demon.”

Malcolm nodded quietly, still stuffing his mouth. He washed a bite of his fries down with a sip of a slightly melted chocolate milkshake. “So are you here to just give me an update or…”

“What do you think?” Carver’s dark eyes snapped to Malcolm. He took out his cell phone and pulled up a notepad app. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about this demon hunting you. And in return, I’ll use my knowledge and resources to help you defeat this demon before it strikes again.”

Malcolm’s shoulders slumped, knowing there was no way out of this. He leaned back on the cell wall, still feeling the twinge of pain in his back and heart, the murderous rage bittering his tongue. He shoved a bite of his second burger in his mouth, trying to erase the taste. “Fine, but gimme my elfroot. If I’m having this conversation, I’m doing it stoned,” he said with a full mouth.

“Don’t leave out any details,” Carver grunted and pulled out a baggie of brownies from his front pocket and tossed it at Malcolm.

Malcolm caught it with one hand. “Swear to the Maker. It’s going to sound batshit crazy, but it’s all the truth.”  

[taetaespeaches]

“What’s wrong? Do you want attention?”

seokjin x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.7K

a/n: Ok, I couldn’t sleep past 5 am this morning so I wrote this very randomly. It wasn’t planned at all and I am on a narcotic for pain after my wisdom teeth extraction so if this is shit, pretend it’s not. This is just a glimpse at Jin remembering all over again how in love with Poopsie/reader he is. Also, this includes a tidbit of Jinnie’s mom (just barely). Ok that’s all, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

Love is everywhere. Mysterious and random, appearing suddenly, a person overtaking your thoughts before simply never leaving your mind.

One day, nothing really changed, but you started entering Jin’s every thought with a certain affection attached to every aspect of your being. Hearing his friends speak your name put him on the edge of anticipation, the resonance of your voice had him clinging to your every word, the unintentional brush of your fingertips on his forearm made him crave for them to linger just a moment longer; nothing really changed, but rather you just found your way under his skin.

As if a search he didn’t know he was on reached its end, there you were. And you welcomed him with open heart, and open arms. It was easy. Loving you was easy.

Love is everywhere. Reappearing arbitrarily, reminding you of how much you love someone, despite never forgetting in the first place.

The buzz of his phone in the middle of a Tuesday served as his random reminder that day, your text revealing a recipe you were dying to try with him. You would pick up the ingredients, he just needed to be there with his “expertise and that World Wide Handsome face”.

Leaving work that day, there was an extra pep in his step as he eagerly made his way home to you. He just wanted to see you, tell you for the millionth time that he loved you; that he was in love with you.

And when you arrived home nearly at the same time, Jin entering the hallway to see you struggling with the apartment door, your hands and forearms full of grocery bags, he hustled down the corridor as you shot him a pout. Ignoring the door completely, however, as the groceries were on the verge of turning your arms to jelly as you tried to hold them up, the man wrapped his arms around the back of your head and kissed you deeply.  

The gesture took you by surprise and you took a moment to respond, but soon you were dropping your arms, the dinner ingredients falling to the floor as you kissed him back just as passionately.

“I love you,” Jin mumbled into the action, the words barely intelligible as they melted into your own mouth.

“I can tell,” you teased, gigging as Jin smirked into the kiss. “I love you too.”

Watching Jin work his way through the steps of the recipe with ease, you huffed, having to read over the instructions for the umpteenth time as you struggled to actualize what the words directed you to do.

“Cooking comes so easy to you,” you whined teasingly, feigning annoyance at your boyfriend’s kitchen skills.

“No, I’ve just practiced lots,” he countered with a chuckle. “Things that come easy to me are… well, having this handsome face,” he smirked as he angled his chin upward, dragging his finger along his jaw to show off his features. Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly nodded in agreement, a smile curving on your lips. “You know what else comes easy?”

“Your incredible humor?” You mused, the man’s eyes widening.

“No-wait, what, well that too,” he agreed, a grin spreading on his mouth as you giggled. “But not what I was going for.”

“What, then?”

“Loving you comes easy to me,” he smirked cockily at his oh so smooth line. “I’m a natural,” he gloated, holding his head a little higher as he basked in the non-existent praise.

“Aww,” you pouted, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw. At the touch of your lips on his skin, the man quickly grabbed your face between his hands and held you in place, bringing his mouth to yours, kissing you sweetly as you easily responded to the action.

“Did you like that one?” He whispered against your lips, his plush ones feeling much nicer than he could ever know as they grazed your own while he spoke.

“I did,” you agreed, pecking him twice quickly before pulling away a bit. “Also, add cheesiness to the things that come easy to you.”  

“Wah,” he threw his head back, dropping his hands from your face as he feigned outrage at your playful dig, you giggling as you turned your attention back to the food preparation. As you read through the next steps of the recipe, Jin watched you fondly, his heart thumping against his chest as he realized he loved you all over again.

Just as he leaned toward you to check the recipe for himself, his phone began buzzing on the counter, you both looking to the screen to see his mom’s contact display. Wiping his hands on his pants, he quickly answered the call with a simple “Hi mom.”

It was common for Jin’s mom to call him in the evenings, or for him to call her. You always loved the relationship he had with the woman, appreciating the way he always found time for her. The man leaned his hip against the counter as he relayed the events of his day, being sure to include even the most trivial moments. And as he allowed her the time to talk about her own day, he started picking up pieces of chopped vegetables, taking turns between popping them into his mouth and throwing them at you.

“Jin,” you whispered in complaint when the third piece of chopped carrot bounced off your shoulder, though the smile on your face betrayed your warning. “Behave,” you shot him a glare, a pout forming on his pillowy lips. Bringing the chopped carrot he held between his fingertips toward your mouth, he gave you an adorable close-mouthed smile as he pushed it against your lips, leaving you no choice but to relent and allow him to feed it to you.

Shaking your head at him, you admired the way his smile widened beautifully, making his adorable cheeks pop.

“Well, what are you doing tonight?” He suddenly asked his mom, you watching him as he awaited her answer. “Good, you deserve to relax,” he replied to her, you smiling softly at the comment. “Me?” He questioned, his eyes raising. “I’m cooking with Poopsie, she found a new recipe.”

Poopsie; you giggled at the name. Never did you expect the joke nickname to stick the way it did, but there he was referring to you by it when speaking to his mom. Looking down at the food on the counter, you were broken from your amusement at the sound of Jin calling your name. Your real one this time.

Eyes wide, you met his own orbs as he lowered the phone from his face and held it out to you. “She wants to talk to you, something about a recipe she wants to send your way.”

Taking the phone with wide excited eyes, you dove into a conversation with his mom, Jin watching you with utter affection, his gaze dripping in fondness. Of course, he loved the way you and his mom talked, treating each other as family.

“It’s a dish I found this morning, I thought we’d try it, but Jin is of course a natural while I’m struggling,” you shot him a glare, the man smiling tenderly.

“Not a natural, I just practiced,” he shouted so his mom could hear, your lips curving into a smile at his antics.

“Oh perfect, yeah, go ahead and text it to me,” you continued talking to his mom about a recipe she suggested you try next. “Have you made it yet?” You asked her, listening intently as she told you about her experience with the dish.

As the conversation ventured from cooking topics and you both continued talking about random thoughts that popped into your head, you began pacing across the kitchen, lost in the exchange and forgetting all about the meal. Jin took over the cooking responsibilities, working his way through the recipe, a fondness etched across his features for the entirety of your conversation.

Finally, what must had been twenty minutes later, you began closing the conversation, Jin wiping his hands on the dish towel that was thrown on the counter as he prepared to take the phone back from you.

“It was nice talking to you too, I’ll let you know how that recipe goes,” you smiled as you bid your boyfriend’s mom goodbye. “Have a good night, love you too, bye.” With that you lowered the phone and clicked end on the call, Jin’s eyes widening.

Meeting his gaze as you placed the phone in his hand, you drew your eyebrows together in question. “What?”

“I wasn’t done talking to her,” he complained with a frown, a pout appearing on your face.

“Oh, my love, I’m sorry, she said she had to go,” you told him, moving toward the counter to see how far Jin had gotten in the recipe.

“What the hell?” He questioned aloud, his gaze following you.

“Jinnie, I’m sorry,” you told him, though a giggle laced your words. “You’ll just talk to her tomorrow though.”

“That’s besides the point,” he glared playfully as you tried to hide your growing smile.

“What’s wrong? Do you want attention?” You asked him in a teasing tone, the man quickly replying with a nod.

“Yes, I do,” he said childishly, like the overgrown man child he was, and that you loved.

“Come here,” you grinned, opening your arms for Jin to walk into, the man easily wrapping his own arms around your frame. He nuzzled his face against your neck, leaving light kisses as he began backing you out of the kitchen, your laughter resonating in his ears beautifully as he directed you to the living room couch.

“I want lots and lots of attention,” he mumbled against your skin, your fingers threading through the hair at his nap as you kissed the side of his head.

“Happy to supply, my love,” you smiled against his temple just as he lowered you both onto the sofa with an oomph. “My big baby,” you cooed, massaging your fingertips against his scalp as he groaned against you.

“I’m not a baby, I’m just needy,” he corrected, sending you both into fits of giggles, the meal forgotten for the time being as you simply enjoyed each other’s company.

One day, things changed with you and Jin, friendship turning into something else; but the more things change, the more they stay the same. Loving Jin was easy. Two friends in love, it was as simple as that. And love really was everywhere. Everywhere he was. Everywhere you were. Everywhere you existed together.

[entishramblings]

I Will Watch Over You [Aragorn X Reader]

A.N: so I actually busted this one out pretty fast I am surprised at myself???

Request: @sokkasdarling — HEY LOVE can i pls request smth for aragorn? simping for this boy recently. with the prompts "i'll keep you warm" and/or "i've got you" thanks in advance! i hope ur having a wonderful day<3

Pairing: Aragorn X Reader

Summary: Aragorn and (Y/N) are traveling through the Mountains and things happen.

Word Count: 1,283

Warnings: violence, ugly golbin imagery, graphic-ish wounds, fluff

MASTERLIST

In simplest terms, being a Ranger of the North could be hard. In less simple terms, it’s the down pour of cold rain that drenches you to the bone, it’s the freezing hail that burns at your skin, and it’s the wicked winds that force your body backwards. All of these struggles, all of this pain—is it really worth killing a couple vile beasts born of darkness?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Therefore, when Strider, as annoying as he was, requested that (Y/N) come with him to examine the rising numbers of goblins throughout the Misty Mountains she obliged.

The two had been trekking through the rocky tundra, fighting the harsh weather and avoiding the stone giants’ games, for weeks now. To say that it had been laborious and demanding was an understatement—especially because the two were constantly bickering. And the worst part was that they hadn’t even come across any goblins, well until now that is.

(Y/N) used her two long swords to block all the axes and clubs there were being swung at her head. As a dual wieldist she was able to kill twice as many, but with twice as much risk considering she had no shield. Strider, on the other hand, was just an idiot—in her opinion that is. He only used a singular sword—no shield, no other blade. Stupid really, and exactly what got her slashed.

They had been fighting together, side by side, in the pouring rain. And one missed parry from the dúnedain man led to a harsh dagger slicing at (Y/N)’s ribs.

He instantly knew that he made a mistake for the sound of a desperate scream met his ears. Strider whipped his head around in panic, only to lay his eyes on the injured woman clutching her side. She dropped one of her weapons and stubbled backwards.

There was one rule to fighting: don’t die, and don’t let your partner die. And it was obvious, with his inaccuracy, that he had fucked up.

Strider called out to her, begging her to stay alive—just long enough for him to kill the remaining goblins and stitch her up.

He grasped her second sword and instantly buried it into an oncoming creature’s chest.

Using the strength of his leg to pull out the weapon, his kicked the disgusting beast backward. It tumbled into two of its friends and they instantaneously fell off the side of the cliff into the stone giants’ fun. Aragorn, with his jaw tight and his teeth baring, turned to the last remaining goblin. As swift as an elf, he lunged forward. Crossing his sword and (Y/N)’s, he cleanly cut as the creature’s blubbering throat. The most repulsive gurgling noise that could ever been made was, but Strider cared not. The only thing of importance now was (Y/N).

He rushed towards her form, the swords clattering at his side. The harsh wet rain blurred his vision, yet he desperately clasped her cheeks. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!”

She released a muffled groan and a handful of curses, “You idiot.”

A sigh of relief left his lips as he tugged her to her feet. Strider draped the young woman’s arm around his neck and held her waist with one hand. As quick as he could, he snatched up their weapons and pulled the injured woman with him.

“I’ve got you, (Y/N). I’ve got you. Just—just hold on a bit longer.”

The two stumbled through the mountains as Aragorn searched for shelter. He would glance every so often at (Y/N) for he was deeply worried. The young female ranger was leaning heavily on him to the point where he was basically carrying her. Her hand clutched her injured side as she stumbled forward, desperate to get wherever they were going. Furthermore, her chest rose and fell rapidly while she gasped for breath—only for her to inhale freezing rain. Her eyes were squinted shut and her lips were pulled into a tight line. With the loss of blood and the amount of pain she was pretty useless and, quite frankly, Strider knew it was his fault.

The Eru and Valar must have been listening to Aragorn’s prayers for the two stumbled upon a cave.

Strider unconventionally dragged (Y/N) into it and set her down against the smooth wall of the stone.

“I need light before I can examine your wound. Stay here while I search for something to make a fire with.”

(Y/N) groaned before speaking with sarcasm, “No I figured I would just continue scaling the mountains as I bled out.”

Aragorn rolled his eyes at her comment as he pulled off his hood, “Even as you are dying, you find a way to be a pain in my ass.”

She smirked at him and he scoffed in return. Strider then quickly scurried off. Luckily, the cave was not deep and someone must have occupied it recently for there was a small amount of kindling and wood. He rushed back to the injured Ranger and it was only a couple of moments before the sound of crackling flames met their ears.

He moved towards (Y/N). “Let me have a look.”

She began to pull off her soaked cloak, but stopped and hissed out in pain.

Aragorn lightly touched her hand to stop her action. “Don’t make it any worse,” he stated.

He gently pulled the fabric from her form, leaving her in a simple tunic. As carfully as he could, he began to pull her shirt up to reveal the bleeding laceration.

“Is—is it bad?” She questioned with heavy breaths.

He glanced up at her, “You will live.”

Strider ruffled through his leather bag before pulling out various needles, threads, pouches, containers, and a singular flask.

He looked at her once more, “This will hurt (Y/N).”

The male ranger poured the alcohol onto her side and watched as the clear liquor mixed with blood. (Y/N) bit back a groan and squeezed her eyes shut.

Strider then set to work. He wipped off her skin and began to sew it back together. (Y/N) was as stiff as a wooden plank as she clenched her jaw—a natural reflex in this kind of situation.

“Strider,” she hissed. “Could you be any more inept?”

He sent her a glare, “Maybe if you would stop moving it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Yes you are,” He reiterated.

She snorted and Aragorn continued to pull the thread taught for it needed to be done. Next, he made a paste for the wound using athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, and alder bark. He gingerly applied the blended mixture over (Y/N)’s stitching to ward off infections.

“Almost done, (Y/N).” He muttered.

Aragorn ruffled through his bag once more and his hand emerged with a clean dressing. He pulled her exhausted body forward and her head fell onto his shoulder. He began to attentively wrap the fabric around her until it was secure.

Slowly, Strider’s hands found their way to her face once more. He lifted her head and at that sensation she peeled her eyes open.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N). You should not have to suffer from my error.”

She shook her head and released a sigh, “Yeah you are to blame, but I am too cold to care.” She paused, adjusting her position slightly. “Just...just—“

Strider curled an arm around her waist and interrupted her stuttering sentence. “I’ll keep you warm.”

(Y/N) did not object, surprisingly. Instead, she let him shuffle behind her so that she sat between his legs. Careful not to press on her wound, he pulled her body to his chest which she gladly settled against. She leaned her back into him and rested her head upon his shoulder. (Y/N) let her eyelids flutter closed once more.

A soft kiss pressed against her temple and a quiet voice whispered in her ear. “Rest while we wait out the storm. I will watch over you.”

......

Everything Tag List: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary

Aragorn Tag:

@dark-angel-is-back