#until another character sheds some light onto them

[picaroroboto]

thing about Guda is that they do not have an internal monologue - therefore the player can't directly read their thoughts and feelings. Thanks to that some of the best insight we get into Guda's physical or psychological condition comes from other characters observing and reacting to them. But we also know Guda is a big liar who takes great effort to hide their true feelings from others around them, making those moments few and far between, or only from characters who are particularly insightful or times when Guda is particularly vulnerable.

But the way our perspective on Guda is so limited is what makes me go more than a little insane about moments like these, from Aphrodite's Song and the Garden of Lost Will respectively:

The implications that Guda knows how to fake their way through psychological exams, and has at times cried into their hands so that no one can see. The thing is that we've never directly seen them do either of those things, but that doesn't mean they haven't been doing them, we don't always see everything that goes on in the story, there's always some time gaps or stuff that happens off-screen.

What I'm building up to here is I've got a nagging feeling that Guda has it far worse (or has been in a bad state for far longer that we previously assumed, big Da Vinci in the song screenshot there implies they've been lying on psyche tests as far back as Part 1 or 1.5) than even the most max-level-reading-comprehension-type Guda enjoyers can tell. That maybe they've been deceiving even the audience as well, if only by lies of omission.

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 6: summer is a curse @whumperless-whump-event

heat stroke / panting / “why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Gene

whumpee: Cassidy

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It was the hottest day of the year, and Cassidy was starting to think that anyone trying to travel in this weather had a screw loose.

Well, maybe he had a screw loose for trying to pull a job in this weather in the first place.

He gripped the top of the door of the stagecoach he had heckled into stopping in the middle of the road. The metal burned his hand. He stepped into it, ducking down to face the man sitting in the seat, looking about ready to crap his pants.

“Ante up,” He barked. The passenger whimpered softly and reached into his shirt pocket.

Cassidy resisted the urge to swipe the sweat from his brow. A bandana was pulled up over his face to conceal his identity, and he was seconds away of saying to hell with it and yanking it off. He had no idea why Montana insisted they had to rob the stagecoach today, but who was he to argue? He just needed to get in and get out. He could cool off at the river later.

He glared down at the man and clicked his revolver, pointing it down.

“Don’t got all day,” He grumbled. The man’s hands shook as he emptied some coins into the pouch Cassidy held out. Cassidy could see a drop of sweat fall from the tip of the man’s nose.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the air and everyone inside the stagecoach froze.

“Silver! We gotta run, law’s comin’!” A voice called from outside. It was another of Montana’s boys, Red. 

Cassidy cursed softly under his breath as he heard distant shouts and hoofbeats. Goddamn it. He snatched away the pouch and cocked his gun.

This was just his luck. The law always managed to catch up with him at the most inconvenient times. He just hoped Delaney wasn’t with them. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with that stuck-up deputy, feeling as shitty as he did.

Cassidy found his gelding, Scotch, waiting outside the stagecoach, whinnying softly. He ran at him and used the momentum to hoist himself onto the horse. Scotch anxiously hoofed at the ground. 

“Sorry boy, y’gotta run a bit more, alright? I know it ain’t fun..” Cassidy placated, clicking his teeth and tapping a heel into his mount’s side.

Scotch huffed, but was spurred into action, and soon, Cassidy was off.

Red had gotten a headstart and was already out of sight, and Cassidy thought he might make it out as well, but it seemed even Scotch was feeling the sluggishness of the heat.

The law caught up.

Gunshots rang out behind him. Warning shots. They were practically at his heels. He grunted in frustration. There was almost no chance of outrunning them this time, and he really didn’t want to be roped off the saddle.

Montana was gonna kill him.

He yanked back Scotch’s reins, causing the gelding to slow and pin his ears back in annoyance. Cassidy whispered an apology and clutched at the reins until came to a stop

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by 3 lawmen and--

Goddamn it.

“Now Silver, tell me, why in the hell did you decide today was a good day t’pull this stunt,” Gene huffed, steering Calliope in front of Cassidy, effectively cutting him off.

“Delaney.” He mockingly tipped his hat. “Fancy seein’ you here.” Cassidy tried for a smirk, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Enough. Get down.”

He grumbled and swung his leg to hop down from Scotch’s back. He gave the gelding a light pat, partially to comfort the animal, but also partially to steady himself. Truthfully, the quick movement caused a vicious headrush that had him seeing stars. 

He was really wishing he could shed some of his layers.

Gene was suddenly beside him, yanking his wrists behind his back, and he figured he oughta cooperate. It beat the alternative of being sent to the gallows for resisting arrest.

Soon enough, his hands were cuffed, and Scotch was being hitched to Gene’s mare. 

Gene turned to his men and told them something, but Cassidy stopped listening after a few seconds. Now, since he wasn’t moving anymore, he felt the sun beating down on him at full force. He moved to pull his bandana down to get some air, but all he could do was jerk against the cuffs uselessly.

This heat was starting to get real unbearable.

The other lawmen left, presumably to go chase Red, and Gene pulled Cassidy towards the horses.

“You can ride double with me if you behave. Act a fool, and I won’t hesitate to drag you all the way to town,” Gene grunted, heaving himself up onto Calliope. He cooed at his mare under his breath, silently apologizing for the extra weight he was about to add.

Without warning, he grabbed Cassidy under the arms and began pulling him up. Cassidy, to his credit, didn’t try to make it harder for the deputy. He simply hooked his foot into Calliope’s stirrup and settled behind Gene.

He was too goddamn burning to try and resist anything. 

He was sweating even more than before, if that was possible. When Calliope began walking forward, he found himself jolting with the movement and leaning more on Gene than he’d like to keep himself upright. 

Gene wasn’t a big talker, especially not with Cassidy, but he found himself wishing the deputy would make some kind of conversation, so he could focus on something other than the dizziness and nausea that was beginning to overtake him.

He swallowed reflexively and tried again to release the bandana around his face. 

“Quit squirming, Silver,” Gene barked, patting Calliope when she became fussy.

The truth was, Cassidy was trying not to squirm, but he couldn’t seem to find his balance. 

He practically grew up in the saddle. He started riding when he was just 11 years old, so it made no sense that every small movement the mare made seemed to send him listing to the side. His world was tilting on its axis. He felt like he was seconds away from spewing or blacking out, and he wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“D’laney,” He slurred, focusing every muscle in his body on keeping himself upright.

“What is it?” Gene grumbled, wiping some sweat from his neck with a handkerchief. Lord, this weather was miserable.

“I.. I don’t..” Cassidy swallowed again, blinking against the black spots that danced in his vision. “D’laney..”

Suddenly, Gene let out a curse as he felt Cassidy start to slip to the side. Calliope and Scotch both let out a worried huff.

Gene caught Cassidy limply by the waist, straining his arms behind him to hold the man up. He cursed again at how clammy Cassidy's skin felt, even through the layers of fabric.

“Goddamn it, Silver..” He breathed, carefully dismounting Calliope while keeping a hand on Cassidy to keep him steady on her back.

Cassidy’s eyes were half-lidded and hazy, and he was unnervingly pale. His lucidity was going, and fast. His breath was coming out in short, quick pants and sweat dripped down his jaw.

Gene made quick work of pulling him off the horse and lowering him unceremoniously to the ground. 

He squinted against the sun and scanned the area around them. “Why don’t we go find you some shade, alright? Won’t do me no good if you kick the bucket on the way to town.”

Cassidy found it odd that the deputy was being so amiable to him, but he wasn’t about to complain. Usually when he felt this run down, Montana told him to suck it up and figure it out. This was a welcome change of pace. He was too out of it to think too hard about it.

Gene half-helped-half-dragged Cassidy to a small tree off the side of the road. It did little to block the sun, but it was better than nothing. He lowered him against it and jogged back to lead the horses over as well. Scotch flicked his ears worriedly and leaned down to nose the side of his rider's head.

Cassidy was still panting hard against the heat, feeling like his entire body was pulsing with nausea and vertigo. He had heard about one of O'Malley's boys dying of heat sickness a while back, and he vaguely wondered if that was what was happening to him. He shuddered at the thought.

Gene approached once again, and before Cassidy could attempt to ask, he made quick work of yanking off the fabric around his face, before bending down to begin stripping him of his extra layers of fabric. He removed his own hat and fanned Cassidy, seeming a little more worried than he was initially leading on.

Cassidy wanted to say something, maybe make a snarky comment and the situation, but instead, his head lolled forward lazily. He could practically feel the deputy’s worried gaze boring a hole into the top of his mussed hair.

Suddenly, he felt gentle, calloused fingers grasp his wrist and press against the artery. Gene counted quietly and frowned.

His voice was now much more serious. “We need to cool you off.”

Suddenly, Cassidy was leaning back a little further against the tree with the buttons of his shirt pulled open. Gene fumbled around his bag for his waterskin, and unscrewed the top. He wet a small strip of fabric and placed it on the back of Cassidy’s neck before pressing the spout to his lips.

Cassidy drank desperately, not caring that the water dribbled down his chin. He was left breathless when the waterskin was pulled from his mouth.

“Alright, you just stay there. We’ll keep moving once you’re more.. stable. And for the love of all things holy, wear less clothes if you’re gonna pull a stunt in heat like this.”

Cassidy let his eyes flutter close, his head finally feeling a little clearer.

Gene clicked his tongue in disaproval and smoothed Cassidy's sweaty hair from his face.

"Just so you know, you're still gettin' locked up for this. I'm not that nice."

Cassidy huffed a small laugh. Yeah, it was probably deserved.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[riizegasm]

We Love, We Lose || H.SH and P.WB

❀ pairing: Park Wonbin x fem!oc x Hong Seunghan

❀ genre: apocalypse!au, angst, slice of life, minor fluff

❀ word count: ~7.9k

❀ warnings: explicit language, suggestive scenes, minor character death, difficult conversations around grief, mild gore (description of major injury), poly!hanibani

❀ summary: In the new world, the group dwindles bit by bit. However, in the midst of chaos, loss, and grief, it's hard not to be selfish. Desire always seems selfish when death lurks around every corner.

❀ A/N: Although this is far from my first work on tumblr (find my old works @golchaworld), welcome to the first work on my new blog! I've been sitting on this piece since about December, so it is truly my baby. As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are always welcome. I hope you enjoy!

Part 2 || masterlist

Jaeri didn’t get the funeral she deserved. She didn’t die the death she deserved. She didn’t live the life she deserved. All eight of them were very aware of the fact that they would meet the same fate. None of them would get to live the lives they deserved to live, and all of them would die deaths that didn’t matter. It was a simple fact of their circumstance. 

Joohyun watches as Sungchan falls to his knees next to the raised mound of dirt. Eunseok had been kind enough to find a few white flowers to rest on top of it until the grass grew back. Joohyun wonders if the water from Sungchan’s tears and the decomposition of Jaeri’s body would be enough to nourish the soil, or if the patch will forever be barren.

Shotaro has his hand on Sungchan’s shoulder, holding him steady as his body shakes with sobs. Joohyun can hear Anton’s soft sniffles from somewhere behind her, always easily upset. She imagines that all of them should be crying the way he is. There should be streams of tears and strangled sobs and harsh sniffles, but Joohyun just can’t find it in her to shed another tear.

Eunseok is the first to walk away, stoic as always. The group slowly scatters after that, until only Sungchan and Shotaro are left behind. Sungchan because he loves Jaeri; Shotaro because he loves Sungchan.

Joohyun finds herself following a familiar path out into the orchard, surrounded by trees and low-hanging fruit. She already knows that Seunghan will want to come by tomorrow to pick the apples. He had always described it as the perfect date. Joohyun would have agreed three years ago, before everything happened. Now, though, she thinks that any date is pointless.

They were here to survive, and that’s it.

She finds a familiar figure seated atop one of the tree stumps that they had cut during the summer. Wonbin’s broad shoulders have shrunk, sitting crouched over himself. A crisp breeze ruffles his inky black locks, leaving his hair akin to a bird's nest. He looks up when leaves crunch particularly loudly under the weight of Joohyun’s steps. His eyes are red-rimmed and glossy, seemingly holding onto tears that well up but never fall down the man’s face. Joohyun knows the feeling.

“I’m not sure Sungchan will ever get over this,” Joohyun says softly, joining the boy on the log.

The stump is barely big enough for the both of them, and Joohyun finds herself pressing into Wonbin’s side. The boy slings an arm around her waist, a familiar weight against her light flannel. When he breathes, Joohyun can feel the expansion and collapse of his chest. She finds it all too easy to join his rhythm.

“He will,” Wonbin sighs out. “We all will. It’s just going to take some time.”

Joohyun feels wetness in the gentle kiss that Wonbin plants on her forehead. The action releases a knot in her stomach, and suddenly, the woman is tearing up again. She remembers when Wonbin placed his lips in the exact same spot as they stood over their first body, blood pouring out from the bullet hole that Joohyun had placed in its forehead. 

“He just loved her so much. Is that what happens to those we love?” Her voice cracks.

Wonbin shushes her, tucking her smaller frame into his chest. “We can’t help who we love. That may be all we have left in this world.”

“Even if it just dies like everything else?”

The chest beneath her head expands, then deflates in a shaky exhale. Joohyun looks up, fully expecting the tear tracks that have started to stain Wonbin’s face. His wide eyes reflect the light sunlight around them, holding the tiniest bit of warmth.

“Yes, baby. Even if it dies.”

.           .          .

Shotaro is the one who wakes Joohyun up, gently shaking her shoulder as he whispers her name. It’s more than enough to rouse the girl, who has become quite the light sleeper. She sits up in a panic, breathing deeply and scanning the room. When her eyes focus on Shotaro, she exhales. The man has a sad smile on his face, smoothing his hand down the expanse of her arm.

“You’re okay, Joo,” He soothes. “Seunghan just asked me to wake you up. I think he wants your help picking the apples.”

Joohyun nods, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, of course. Let him know I’m coming.”

The woman stays put well after Shotaro leaves the room, attempting to regulate her breathing. Her eyes flick over to the empty bed on the opposite side of the room, perfectly made up and smeared with a bit of residual blood. Joohyun sighs, finally pulling herself from her own bed and crossing the room. She lightly thumbs against the most visible bloodstain at the head of the bed. When she feels her stomach lurch, the remnants of last night’s dinner threatening to make an appearance, she quickly turns away to start getting ready.

It’s minutes later that she meets Seunghan in the kitchen, who is chatting away with Anton. Their youngest is puffy and red, the remnants of his tears still drying on his face. Seunghan, contrastingly, looks well rested, the only signs of distress being the wrinkle that has formed around his mouth and his chapped lower lip, bitten raw.

“Good morning, princess,” Seunghan coos from across the room.

Joohyun turns to Anton in lieu of an answer. “How are you feeling, ‘ton?”

The boy just shrugs at the question, letting out a heavy exhale. They have all gotten quite good at reading between the lines, knowing that their faces tell each other much more than words ever could. Just from looking at the younger boy, Joohyun knows how hard he’s taking the loss. It’s more than just sadness; it’s guilt.

At the lack of response, Joohyun crosses the room, gathering Anton into a tight hug. The boy returns it forcefully, underestimating his strength as always. Joohyun coughs a bit from the pressure at her ribs. When they pull away, Seunghan has an eyebrow cocked at the pair, clearly concerned.

“Are you alright?”

Joohyun simply waves the man off. “I’m fine.”

“Sorry,” Anton has a sheepish smile spread across his full lips. “I didn’t mean to squeeze you like that.”

“It’s okay, ‘ton, really. I’ll be a stress ball for you whenever you need it.”

The comment seems to pull a genuine chuckle from the boy, a smile taking over his face easily. Pride blooms in Joohyun’s chest, happy to finally see some positive emotion from the younger boy. She sighs in relief. 

“Do you wanna come with me and Seunghan to pick the apples? They’re looking really good.”

Joohyun ignores the tense look that Seunghan shoots her from his position at her side. She instead chooses to focus solely on Anton, whose gaze flickers back and forth between the two. Although Joohyun has no idea what Seunghan looks like right now, she imagines he’s cursing her with his eyes. 

“No thanks,” Anton mumbles in that muted way of his. “I actually wanted to spend some time with Sungchan. I wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

A slow smile blooms on Seunghan’s face. “You’re such a good kid, Chanyoung. Let us know if you or Sungchan need anything, okay?”

The minute that Anton promises to do so, Seunghan grabs Joohyun by the hand and practically pulls her through the back door of the farmhouse. He doesn’t let go through their journey down the porch steps, through the farm beds, and around the lake, until they are surrounded by apple trees laden with fruit. He produces two canvas bags from his pocket, holding one out for Joohyun to take. The minute she does, the man reaches over to peck her on the cheek. 

“Our first solo date,” Seunghan muses, “apple picking—how romantic.”

Joohyun just scoffs, reaching for the nearest ripe apple and snapping its delicate stem. “You’re the only one who’s considering it a date.”

Seunghan scoffs, beginning to pick his own apples. “You told me back in school that this was a really cute date idea. You said that you would die if someone took you apple picking. I’m surprised Wonbin never did.”

“That was years ago.” Joohyun feels heat rise to her cheeks, attempting to bury her face deeper into the collar of her flannel. “You never asked me out then. It definitely doesn’t count now.”

Seunghan turns to face the woman, apple in hand. He’s quick to place it into his bag as he approaches her, a cocky smirk poised on his face. Joohyun is disgusted by how much she wants to kiss him. She knows that she is the only thing stopping herself. 

“Princess, you and I both know that I have been in love with you for at least five years. I have asked you out at least twice. Both times, you claimed that it wasn’t the time for romance.”

Joohyun rolls her eyes. “You didn’t ask me out before everything went to shit, and that’s what matters.”

The tip of Seunghan’s nose is pink, matching the tips of his ears. Joohyuk wonders if it’s from embarrassment or the autumnal breeze that has winded its way through the trees. Based on the thin fabric of Seunghan’s worn sweatshirt, she assumes it’s the latter. 

“I think it matters even more now,” Seunghan whispers, winding a muscled arm around the woman’s waist. 

When he pulls her closer, Joohyun goes easily, lost in the fondness in his gaze. There’s a peek of sunlight through the trees, illuminating just one of Seunghan’s eyes. The glow extends across his face like a broad gash, ending right before his jawline. Joohyun reaches a hand up to trace along its edge, dropping her bag of apples in the process. 

“You know we shouldn’t be doing this,” Joohyun chides, hyper aware of the way Seunghan eyes the movement of her lips. 

“Not without Wonbin, you mean?”

Joohyun shakes her head. “At all.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Joohyun knows she doesn’t. She knows that she wants nothing more than to be showered in Seunghan’s constant affection. She craves his fingertips gently tracing the dip of her hips, his lips leaving brands along the column of her neck, the sturdiness of his thighs underneath her weight. She knows that she desires way too much, but is helpless to stop herself. 

Seunghan waits for Joohyun to move first, gently craning her neck up to meet his lips. Her movements are timid, restrained, as if trying to mask her desire. Seunghan lets her keep up her facade, gently connecting their lips and following her lead. When they part, Joohyun’s eyes remain shut. They’re close enough that Seunghan can count her eyelashes, admiring the way they cast gentle shadows on her cheekbones. 

Joohyun forces herself to open her eyes, slowly letting the early morning sunlight infiltrate her gaze. Seunghan still has that beam of light across his face, lips twisted into a soft smile. She feels a gentle warmth rise in her abdomen that travels all the way to the rosy apples of her cheeks. At her blush, Seunghan’s smile only grows. He leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead, identical to where Wonbin kissed her the day prior. Joohyun wonders if there is a permanent mark on her forehead that leads the two men to kiss her in the same place. She wonders if they read her like a map and X marks the spot. 

“Come on, princess. Let’s go pick the rest of the apples and then make something delicious with them.”

.         .         .

Sohee is leaning his head against Wonbin’s shoulder when Joohyun finds them, the two of them hunched over an old map spread out on the living room floor. They speak softly, as if trying not to disturb the rest of the life in the house. It’s useless, Joohyun thinks. They would all be able to hear each other a mile away.

Joohyun clears her throat, making her way over to sit across from the two. She is only able to meet Sohee’s gaze, eyes shrunken around a smile. He doesn’t move from his position next to Wonbin, instead nuzzling further into his side. Joohyun blinks rapidly to negate the green that begins to cloud her vision.

“What are you guys doing?”

Sohee lights up at the question. “We’re looking for new sources! Wonbin was just saying that it’s time for us to go out and get some more supplies. But obviously we can’t go back to where Jaeri and Sungchan went, so…”

Sohee’s voice trails off sadly, leaving the room with a tense air. For the first time, Joohyun finds herself looking over to Wonbin. She isn’t surprised to see that he had already been looking at her.

“We need more medical supplies,” Wonbin begins. “We used just about everything we had on Jaeri. We could also use some more canned goods and food products before winter sets in.”

“That won’t be for at least another two months!” It’s not like Joohyun actually knows, since calendars became useless during the first few wars. 

“Eunseok thinks the last harvest for the crops will be in a few weeks. We need to be prepared before then.”

It’s at times like this that Joohyun hates the way Wonbin speaks. He’s blunt and factual, not caring to let any amount of emotion cloud his words. The two of them are too similar in that regard, always presenting their thoughts in an unintentionally harsh manner. She frequently wondered if the similarity would break them up, forcing them into brutal fights that would end their relationship. At least everything changed before it had the chance to.

“I think it’s too dangerous to send anyone back out there after what just happened to Jaeri,” Joohyun protests, a hot feeling blooming in her chest. “We can’t just let someone go.”

Wonbin sighs. “It’s not like we’d be going to the same place that they went. That’s why we’re looking at new possible sources. So when we go, we won’t run into that same issue.”

“We?”

Wonbin’s eyes widen, sensing his mistake. Joohyun’s arms are crossed in front of her chest, lips pulled into a thin line as she stares back at the man across from her. At the change in demeanor, Wonbin finally pulls away from Sohee, shooting the boy a kind smile.

“Can you give us a minute?”

Sohee just nods, instantly scurrying out of the room. Wonbin’s gaze follows the boy as he exits, only turning back to the woman in front of him when he is sure that they’re alone. Joohyun’s right eyebrow twitches repeatedly, a sign of just how stressed she is by the news. The woman’s stony expression reminds Wonbin of everything they craved to leave behind when they came to the farmhouse. The angry twist to her lips is all too reminiscent of her reaction to a threat. Wonbin craves to soothe it with his kiss.

“Baby,” Wonbin coos. “I can't ask Sungchan to go back out there after what happened.”

“So you plan to go instead.” Another eyebrow twitch.

“I wouldn’t go alone.”

“Then with who?”

Wonbin sighs. “Probably Seunghan.”

In the blink of an eye, Joohyun is on her feet, crossing the small space in search of an exit. Wonbin scrambles after her, barely catching her arm before she can move into the kitchen. Her long, dark locks slap him in the face as she turns around, venom in her eyes. Wonbin would be scared if he hadn’t been in this exact position so many times before.

“Let go of me,” she seethes.

Wonbin does as told, but steps closer into her space, knowing that another escape attempt is likely. Joohyun has always been flighty when it comes to standing her ground. She chooses not to fight unless she has to, preferring to run away from the situation and never look back. Somehow, Wonbin has prevented her from escaping. 

“Can you just listen to me before you storm off like you always do?”

Hurt clouds Joohyun’s expression before she steels it again. The scar on her right cheek aches with the effort of remaining emotionless. It’s throbbing, hot and angry. Joohyun feels a phantom pain of the knife sliding across her skin, deep enough to reveal the cheek fat below. It still stings. She wants nothing more than for Wonbin to kiss the pain away.

“There isn’t shit you can say that would make this better.”

Wonbin rolls his eyes. “Somebody needs to go. Sungchan obviously can’t, not right now. So Seunghan volunteered and I couldn’t let him go by himself. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to him. You wouldn’t forgive me if something happened to him.”

“And what if something happens to both of you? What then?”

When Wonbin reaches for Joohyun’s hands again, she relents with only minimal resistance. The man gathers her hands in his, pulling her impossibly closer. Like this, Wonbin can see the minute rhythm in the twitch of her eyebrow, the throbbing of her scar, the wetness pooling in her eyes. Not a single tear falls.

“Nothing’s going to happen to us,” Wonbin soothes. “We’re going to be fine, baby.”

Joohyun lets out a shaky exhale, eyes squeezing shut as she breathes. She is reminded once again why she was never able to really break up with Wonbin in the past. He was too good at tearing down her walls, too good at minimizing all of her worries, too good at soothing her and talking her down. Of course, in the harshness of the end of the world, she embraced his comfort and level-headedness. But it’s different now. She won’t let him talk her down again.

“That’s what Sungchan told Jaeri, and look at what happened to them.”

.         .         .

The temperature drops as the sun falls lower and lower in the sky. The once pleasant breeze has taken on a nose-nipping chill, making Joohyun shiver despite the thick blanket wrapped around her. The rocking chair creaks as it sways forward and backwards. It’s a gentle rhythm that could lull her to sleep, but the body in the chair adjacent to her makes sure that doesn’t happen. 

“How is it to sleep in your room?” Eunseok asks softly, chair swaying in a rhythm similar to Joohyun’s own. 

“It’s fine.”

Sleep has never been the best for Joohyun. Once the wars broke out, she was kept up all night from anxiety. When everything collapsed, and she found herself fleeing, she always offered to keep watch while others slept at night. She would stay awake for days on end until Wonbin noticed and made it his personal mission to get her to sleep. It was mostly unsuccessful until they got to the farmhouse. It was the first real bed Joohyun had slept in in months, so she slept for twelve hours straight that first night. 

Of course, having Jaeri sleeping peacefully across from her always helped. When Joohyun woke up with a scream, sweating from the effort of escaping her night demons, Jaeri would crawl into her bed and soothe her. She would keep her in an embrace and sing softly until Joohyun fell back asleep. 

Now it takes a good five minutes for someone to make it to Joohyun when she wakes up screaming.

“Are you sure it’s fine?” Eunseok prods. “I can see those bags underneath your eyes.”

Joohyun scoffs. “We all have dark circles.”

Eunseok hums, considering the fact. “That’s true. But you’re the only one out here with me while everyone else is upstairs sleeping.”

“They’re not sleeping. Or at least Seunghan and Wonbin aren’t.”

Eunseok outright laughs at this, leaning back fully in his chair. The sound is deep and familiar, planting a seed of a smile on Joohyun’s face. 

“Declined their invitation to join?”

Joohyun rolls her eyes, ignoring the way Eunseok continues to laugh. “I really just can’t deal with them right now.”

“Well, not to be crass, but,” Eunseok shrugs. “Nothing will put you to sleep better than a good orgasm.”

Now it’s Joohyun’s turn to laugh, rocking chair creaking as she leans forward. “You’re right, I guess.”

The pair settle into silence, another gust of chilly wind rustling the chimes near the door. Joohyun peers out into the expanse of darkness that surrounds them, wondering if there’s something unseen that’s looking back at them. In reality, she knows that it’s just patches of crops until you reach the lake, and then the orchard just beyond that. But something in her wonders if there’s something stalking in the small cornfield, eyes tracking her every move.

“You know,” Joohyun says softly, voice barely audible over the squeak of the chairs. “There’s still some blood on Jaeri’s bed.”

“Does that freak you out?” Eunseok takes a swig from his metal canteen.

“No,” Joohyun replies truthfully. “I just wonder how her last moments were. She was bleeding out on the bed while I was screaming in my sleep. It couldn’t have been the most peaceful way to go.”

Joohyun remembers being woken up by Sungchan, who had come to check on Jaeri in the middle of the night. Joohyun thrashed and screamed, eventually elbowing Sungchan in the nose while he tried to calm her down. When she finally settled, they both looked over to Jaeri’s bed. She was already dead.

“It’s not your fault,” Eunseok muses. “We’re all going to die an uncomfortable, untimely death whether we want to admit it or not. Jaeri just met her fate before the rest of us.”

“Because of me.”

Eunseok makes a noise in protest. “Because some scumbag shot her in the leg with a rusty bullet. That’s not on any of us.”

As much as Joohyun knows it’s the truth, she can’t help the feelings of guilt that brew in her stomach like a potion. She had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. She was supposed to stop them. But she didn’t, too convinced that Jaeri would be safe in Sungchan’s care.

His yells for help still echo in her mind late at night. She remembers seeing them approach the farm in the darkness, Jaeri laying limp and bleeding in Sungchan’s arms. She remembers how they placed her on the kitchen counter and tried to fish out the bullet with a butter knife. She remembers the greenish-yellow pus that began to leak from the wound in the coming days. She remembers the screams that could be heard from miles away as they tried to amputate her leg with a butcher’s knife. She remembers the blood that Jaeri began to cough up, so frequent that she was unable to speak.

Sungchan still placed a final kiss on her lips, cold and stained with her own blood.

“Do you think that she and Sungchan got too careless because they were in love?”

Eunseok shakes his head almost instantly, and Joohyun wonders how he doesn’t get dizzy with the motion combined with the rocking of his chair. She knows that Eunseok finds it hard to think sometimes, head permanently hazy from the impact of the concrete. Joohyun remembers when they found him in the rubble, clearly concussed and barely able to speak. She is awed sometimes by how eloquent he still manages to be. 

“As much as love is reckless, it is equally as cautious. They both had more to lose.”

“But they lost it anyway.”

“They did,” Eunseok clears his throat. “They lost it anyways.”

.         .         .

Shotaro calls a house meeting the next morning. Everyone is slow to gather in the living room, taking seats upon old, worn furniture. Joohyun wonders how old everything was before everything happened. Now, it’s too hard to put a date on things, especially since the entire world has been covered with a fine layer of dust. 

Sungchan is the last to join the group, long limbs moving lethargically as he crosses the room. Joohyun winces at the dark purples and reds sitting underneath his eyes, almost like bruises. His hair is untamed, splayed messily across his head. There’s a paleness to his skin that screams dehydration, along with a smattering of pimples forming along his cheek. He even looks thinner than usual, settling onto a chair in the corner without so much as a sound. 

“So I know that these next few months are going to be shitty,” Shotaro starts. “But we’ve gotta plan so that we can make it through.”

Shotaro’s gaze flickers back and forth between Sungchan and the rest of the group, hoping to remedy any tension with his eyes alone. If there is any resistance, he doesn’t pick up on it, choosing instead to continue with his ment. 

“Eunseok says that the last harvest should be in about four weeks, meaning that we will have fresh crops for another two months or so. We still need to go out for canned goods and medical supplies. Both are crucial to us making it through this winter. Thankfully, Wonbin and Seunghan volunteered to make the run for us.”

Anton perks up from his spot near Sohee, visibly confused. “Why would we send two more people for supplies after what just happened?”

“Because we need to survive,” Eunseok chimes in. “We can’t do that without food and supplies.”

Shotaro nods softly. “Exactly, so it’s better that we do all of this now so that we’re not scrambling right before the first snow hits.”

“I think that’s a stupid fucking idea,” Joohyun seethes. “It’s like we’re just sending people out to die.”

As Joohyun surveys the room, it becomes more and more apparent that she’s fighting a losing battle. The only one who seems to be considering her point is Anton, who has always erred on the cautious side. Most of the group, however, still sits silently in their various positions around the room, eyes trained on the stained carpet beneath their feet. 

“We’re not going to die,” Wonbin mutters. 

“You don’t know that.”

They’re the first words that Sungchan has uttered in days. His voice is rough from lack of use, syllables slightly slurred as if they were thick in his mouth. The man clears his throat, but clearly makes no move to speak again. In the silence, Shotaro speaks up. 

“They are not going to die,” he presses. “We’re not going to lose anyone else. Not to something like that.”

Sohee cocks his head curiously. “You said that last time.”

They could make a list of all of the people that they’ve lost since they first moved as a group about two years ago. For each one, Shotaro gave a similar speech, saying it wouldn’t happen again and that would be the last one. It never was of course. Before they found the farm, they found themselves burying a new person just about once a month, death appearing cyclically like a menstrual bleed. 

Shotaro simply sighs at the reminder, pinching his nose bridge between his index finger and thumb. His obvious frustration is somewhat funny to see, reminding Joohyun of when they would spend hours in the multimedia lab, being scolded over the tiniest mistakes in the yearbook. It’s odd to see the same exasperation in such a different setting. 

“Listen, I know we’re all scared after what happened to Jaeri, but it’s not going to happen again. Seunghan and Wonbin are going to be extremely careful and come back to us safe and sound, okay? We’re not going to lose anyone else.”

Although Shotaro’s comment seems to appease some of the younger members of their group, Joohyun can’t help but feel a little unnerved by his stance. She would have to send the two people she loved most out into the world, not knowing if they will ever make it back in one piece. She swallows, dread settling in the pit of her stomach like an anchor. 

Everyone seems to take that as a dismissal, slowly starting to scatter. Sungchan remains rooted in his spot, eyes downturned. He picks aimlessly at a loose thread in his sweatpants, not caring that destroying their clothes isn’t a luxury they have. Joohyun watches as Shotaro leans into Sungchan’s space, whispering something into the younger man’s ear. Sungchan doesn’t look up, just nodding his head a few times before leaving. 

As Joohyun watches the interaction, a hand begins to comb through the length of her hair. She doesn’t need to look to know exactly whom the hand belongs to. Only Seunghan would attempt to comfort her in a time like this, the others all too used to Joohyun running away from their touch. 

“You okay?” Seunghan asks softly. 

Joohyun is sick of everyone asking her that. 

“You know we’re just worried about you, princess” Seunghan states, as if able to read her mind. “We just want you to be okay.”

Joohyun finally turns to face the man. “If you wanted me to be okay, you wouldn’t go.”

Seunghan sighs, rounding the couch to settle beside the woman. He gathers her hands in her lap, rubbing over her pulse point with his thumb. He looks tired, mouth twisted in a grimace that pains Joohyun to see. 

“We’re going so that everyone can be okay.”

The couch dips on Joohyun’s other side, the furniture groaning with the added weight. A hand reaches across her lap to join the pile of hands in Seunghan’s, the familiar callouses a soothing addition.

“We have to be there for everyone, baby.” Wonbin’s voice is barely a whisper. “I know you’re worried, but you have to trust us. We’re going to be fine. We’re not going to end up like Jaeri.”

Joohyun’s tongue has suddenly grown to weigh one hundred pounds. She struggles to swallow down the sob that’s clawing its way up her throat. Seunghan squeezes her hand slightly, and it’s enough pressure to force the first few tears out of her eyes.

“I just don’t like this,” Joohyun admits. “None of us know what’s out there anymore.”

Wonbin presses a kiss to the side of Joohyun’s hair while Seunghan continues to stroke their hands. Something about the affection makes Joohyun feel like crawling out of her skin and running for the hills. If she could see through her tears, she imagines she would. She would tear her body apart to escape their affection if she could. But she stays, remaining frozen in place as the boys attempt to love her.

“We don’t,” Seunghan agrees. “But that can’t stop us from providing for you all.”

Back in school, Seunghan was always the provider. He would come to yearbook committee meetings with his arms stacked with sweet treats and individualized coffee orders. When someone had a particularly hard day, he would bring a smattering of their favorite foods, showering them in whatever he could to make them feel better. If it didn’t work, he would gather their hands in his and let them vent. Joohyun wonders how many times she had done this before, in a much different context.

Being smothered by Wonbin’s kisses was something that Joohyun was much more used to. When words were too harsh for either of them, they worked it out through heavy touches and steamy kisses. Even when they involved Seunghan, who was always words over actions, the couple had a hard time giving up their ways.

“Just promise me,” Joohyun manages out, breath stuttering in her chest. “Promise me that you guys will get out of there the minute you sense any danger. Don’t try and do any noble shit and stick it out.”

Seunghan chuckles, squeezing the intertwined hands once, twice, three times before he lets go. “Trust me, our priority will be to get in and out as quickly and as safely as possible so that we can come home to our princess.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Joohyun emphasizes.

Wonbin presses another kiss to her hairline. “We know you will be.”

.         .         .

Even though the two are set to head out at sunrise, Joohyun can’t help but let them spend hours pressing her into the mattress the night before. As they seal marks into her skin and love her body gently, her vision begins to blur. She’s unable to see past the sea welling up in her eyes, ebbing and flowing until it streams down her face in clear rivulets.

Her waterworks seem to trigger the same in her lovers, and soon all of their kisses take on a certain salty tinge. For a moment, Joohyun fears they will drown in their love. It would be a silent death, much like Jaeri’s. Unlike Jaeri’s, however, this would be a death that Joohyun would be more than happy to fall victim to.

When the three tire, Joohyun finds herself sandwiched between two warm bodies, both in a deep slumber. The syncopation of their heartbeats is enough to keep Joohyun awake and on edge, counting each arrhythmic beat. It reminds her of the sound of footsteps when someone trips. They constantly try to right themselves, but are stuck in an endless fumbling of limbs that hit the ground at odd times.

Joohyun’s eyes remain trained on the ceiling until a hint of light creeps up on the horizon. As the light begins to paint their room in a blue-ish hue, she turns to wake up the men on either side of her, suddenly shy when she takes in their nakedness. She watches as their figures bumble about in the low light, appreciating the stretch of their limbs and the strength in their cores. She reminds herself that she needs to drink it in, since this may be the last time she ever gets to experience it.

No one else is awake to send them off. Just Joohyun stands on the back porch of the farmhouse, barefoot and wrapped up in a blanket that smells strongly of Seunghan. She watches as the two boys check each other, making sure they have all the weapons and supplies they will need for the day ahead. When both deem themselves ready, they turn back to the woman before them.

“We‘ll see you tonight, princess,” Seunghan says with a forced grin.

He seems to hesitate for a moment before reaching out and pulling Joohyun into his chest. His arms are snug around her midsection, almost crushing her if it weren’t for the woman’s sturdy build. The pair part only a minuscule number of inches before Seunghan swoops down to press a kiss to her lips. 

This could be the last, Joohyun reminds herself. Don’t enjoy it too much.

Wonbin’s eyes are wide and glassy when Seunghan and Joohyun part, arms twitching at his side. When he hugs Joohyun, it’s much softer, almost timid. He kisses her forehead before leaning down into a proper kiss. He’s never been the best with words, so he uses his mouth in other ways instead.

He doesn’t look at Joohyun when they part, only whispering a small ‘see you later’ before barreling down the steps of the porch. Seunghan follows him closely, looking over his shoulder just once to blow a kiss to the woman left behind. 

Joohyun watches as their figures disappear past the orchard before bursting into tears, evaporating like the morning dew as the sun comes over the horizon.

.         .         .

“They should be back by now,” Anton mumbles. He has yet to stop pacing on the porch, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

Eunseok, just watches from his position on the rocking chair, swinging back and forth in a distinct rhythm. “They’ll be back soon.”

“You said that an hour ago,” Joohyun spits, fingers fumbling with the chain hanging from her neck. “Shut up if you’re not going to say anything that’s true.”

“Joo,” Shotaro scolds.

The woman just huffs at the mention of her name, not taking the scolding to heart. The others don’t understand. They don’t get how it feels to be stuck in Joohyun’s place. She was tricked into love just for it to possibly be taken right away from her.

She wonders if she ever really had a choice in the matter. She wonders if Sungchan did, or if he was tricked just like she was. When she thinks about the way Jaeri smiled, or the soft coo of her voice, it seems like a no brainer. Everyone was a little bit in love with her. Sungchan just fell harder than others.

For a moment there’s silence, the only disturbance being the soft thump of Anton’s feet against the wooden planks of the porch. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles leaves, tall corn stalks swaying in the darkness. If Wonbin were here, he would be playing the guitar, strumming a soft melody that would have Sohee trying to harmonize with the sounds of nature. 

But there’s no melody here, just a faint crunch of leaves. Then, another crunch. The crunches grow more frequent, each one louder until they are interrupted by a groan. Joohyun is down the stairs and halfway through the corn stalks before anyone can stop her.

Their yells for her to return are nothing over the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears. It’s hard to tell her own footsteps apart from the ones approaching her, her own scrambling loud as she pushes through rows of crops. She can’t see through the darkness that surrounds her now that she is away from the house.

Joohyun doesn’t realize she has run into something until she is knocked firmly on the ground, winded from the force of the fall. Wide eyes peer down at her, a hint of white in the darkness.

“Baby,” Wonbin says. “Are you okay?”

“You’re back,” she breathes out scrambling to her feet.

She can just make out Seunghan next to Wonbin, the man leaning almost all of his weight on the older. He lets out a soft groan as he shifts his weight, seemingly unable to put any pressure on his left side.

“Are you okay?” Joohyun’s voice wobbles as she takes in the pained expression on Seunghan’s face, illuminated by the tiniest bit of moonlight.

“I’m fine, princess,” Seunghan rasps with an attempted smile. “Why don’t we just get back to the house. I’m sure the others are worried about you.”

Joohyun nods in agreement, instantly moving to support Seunghan’s other side. Although it’s only a few yards back to the house, it feels like miles as the three hobble along. It’s clear that both men are tired, Seunghan’s head hanging low between his shoulders. Wonbin grunts with just about every step, muscles straining with the additional weight.

Once the trio emerges from the cornfield, they are greeted by a cacophony of relieved cries. Eunseok and .Shotaro are quick to rush over, relieving Joohyun and Wonbin from their positions supporting the obviously injured boy. The minute the weight has been lifted from Wonbin, he falls to his knees, panting heavily.

“Fuck,” he pants. “We made it.”

Joohyun finds herself running her fingers through the man’s dark locks, pushing sweaty strands away from his face. She releases a shaky exhale, pressing her thumb into the soft skin behind her lover’s ear. Her stomach lurches as she looks at him, heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” she whispers, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on his hairline just like she knows he would if the roles were reversed.

When the pair enter the house, they are greeted with the sight of Seunghan laid atop of the kitchen counter. For a moment, Joohyun thinks she’ll be sick. But she takes in the lack of blood and the fact that Seunghan is talking animatedly with Sohee and the nausea settles. 

She sidles up to the boy on the counter, instantly smoothing a hand down his arm. She glances down at his body, not noting anything out of the ordinary. It is only when Seunghan stutters out a gruff curse that Joohyun realizes that the injury is deeper than expected.

Shotaro gawks at the sight of Seunghan’s ankle after he wrangles off the younger’s hunting boots. The joint is smattered with a nasty collage of purples and blues, the injury pulsing as it rests in Shotaro’s hands. His ankle is about the size of a football, and Joohyun feels nausea bubble up in her core once more.

“What happened out there?” Shotaro asks, ignoring Seunghan’s hisses of pain as he pokes and prods at the wound.

Wonbin sighs as he drops his backpack in the ground with a soft thud. “It was honestly fine. Everything was going well and we got all the necessary supplies. But we heard people coming and started running and that one fucked up his ankle when we were hopping a fence.”

“So you did this to yourself?” Eunseok snorts.

Seunghan just rolls his eyes, not dignifying the room with a proper response. Shotaro smiles down at the man on the table, moving away slightly to grab an ace bandage from a drawer across the kitchen. Joohyun finds herself letting Seunghan squeeze her hand as Shotaro wraps the injury.

“Is it broken?” Seunghan asks.

“You know I’m not a doctor,” Shotaro quips back. “But it looks like it. I don’t think you’re gonna be back on your feet for a while.”

Seunghan lets out a groan that isn’t in pain for once. He turns watery eyes towards Joohyun, squeezing her hand for dramatic effect. The force of his stare makes the woman avert her eyes, but Seunghan squeezes her hand until she returns eye contact again.

“I’m sorry we won’t be able to go apple picking for a while, princess. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.”

If she didn’t know any better, she would think the gag from across the room came out of her own mouth.

.      .     .

Joohyun ascends the stairs slowly, prolonging her journey to Sungchan’s door as much as possible. She felt her heart begin to pound the minute she was tasked to retrieve Sungchan for dinner. She desires nothing more than to not have to face the broken man upstairs. More than anything, she wants to avoid the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she has every time she is around him.

Sungchan opens his doors after a few knocks and a long pause, eyes sunken and red-rimmed. His lack of a shirt highlights the protrusions of his ribs, visible under the paleness of his skin. He sniffles instead of a greeting and Joohyun curses the sinking feeling as it begins to make an appearance.

“Eunseok asked me to come get you since dinner is ready. I think he made soup or something.”

Sungchan sighs. “I’m not hungry.”

Before the door can slam in her face, Joohyun sticks a foot in the doorway, cursing loudly when it’s inevitably crushed. Sungchan is quick to open the door back up, looking down at the intrusion.

“Eunseok said not to let you say that,” Joohyun blurts. “He said you have to come down, even if you don’t eat anything. It’s important, apparently.”

Sungchan lets out another sigh, rolling his swollen eyes. “Fine. I’ll be down in five.”

It’s more like ten minutes, but Joohyun counts it as a win when she sees his slight figure enter the kitchen. It’s Anton who actually seems the most excited to see the older man, immediately bounding over to him and smiling widely in his face. She’s sure that he’s saying something about being excited that Sungchan is joining them, but she can’t bear to listen with the warmth crawling up her throat.

Dinner itself is mainly silent, the group deciding to eat scattered across the porch. Seunghan is inconveniently using both rocking chairs, his injury propped up on the smaller one. The wind that blows has a hint of a chill, more so than last week. If Joohyun squints, she can see some apples dropping from the trees on the other side of the lake.

“Guys,” Sohee asks softly, his normally bright expression pensive. “We’re going to be okay, right?”

It’s Sungchan who responds, speaking from his perch on the railing. “I don’t know.”

“None of us do,” Wonbin agrees.

“But,” Shotaro interjects, ever the positive one. “We’ve made it this far. Even though we don’t know what’s gonna happen, we’ll get through it, whatever it is.”

Sungchan snorts, hopping down from the railing. Without a word, he leaves everyone on the porch, letting the back door slam behind him. There is a soft clang of the bowl hitting the sink and then silence, only interrupted by a gust of wind. Across from them, the corn stalks sway, moving in a rhythm much like Seunghan’s rocking chair. Back and forth, back and forth.

.         .         .

Seunghan is walking with only a slight limp by what they estimate to be Thanksgiving. He seems eager to be back on his feet, hobbling back and forth through the kitchen as he tries to help Sohee and Eunseok whip up dinner. Every time he moves too fast, or makes a sharp change of direction, Joohyun finds herself biting back a gasp. She grips the edge of her seat, constantly ready to take action if the man reinjures himself.

“Calm down, Joo,” Sohee giggles. “You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

A smile instantly breaks out on Seunghan’s face at the comment, rounding the kitchen island so he can wrap an arm around his lover’s shoulders. “Aw, is my princess worried about me?”

Joohyun’s fingers itch with the urge to punch him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

Seunghan leans forward to steal a quick kiss before parting to help the others cook once again. Joohyun hides her face as a rosy blush crawls up to the apples of her cheeks, trying to tame the zoo that has erupted in her core. 

She’s brought back to the very first time that Seunghan had kissed her. It had been after a particularly nasty fight with Wonbin, where Joohyun wanted nothing more than to make him hurt as much as he had hurt her. What better way to do so than kissing his best friend and teammate?

She remembers how all of her blood rushed to her face, lighting her up like a stoplight. There was a pulsing in her stomach that wouldn’t stop, eventually giving way to molten hot desire as the two continued to kiss. As they progressed even further, Seunghan left bruises all over the expanse of her throat and chest, leaving white hot pain in his wake. She remembers pressing down on the bruises the next morning, marveling at how the placements were extremely similar to where Wonbin liked to mark her up.

She remembers how the bruises were still there when she and Wonbin made up. She remembers how he kissed over the bruises, darkening them with firm bites. When he whispered into her skin and asked her who left them, she was left to only answer truthfully. At the mention of his best friend’s name, Wonbin just pulled away, smiled, then kissed her harder.

Joohyun continues to trace Seunghan’s figure with her gaze, extra mindful of his unsteady gait. She’s stifling a chuckle as Seunghan flicks pumpkin seeds at Sohee when Shotaro comes rushing in the room. His face is flushed and hair tousled, clearly flustered.

“Guys,” he pants. “Someone’s here.”

.FIN.

Part 2

[mistresskayla-blog1]

Tooth First Into Her

Characters: Ray Levine x OC werewolf Jesula Paul

Lyn's Writing Event - Challenge Days - Day 30 (late submission)

May 30th: Challenge Days: Chupacabra

Characters:  Ray Levine x OC Haitian Fem werewolf – Jesula Paul

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Ray Levine – Stay Close

The character of Ray Levine was created by Harlan Coben

The character of Jesula Paul was created by Kayla B Crowe

Word Count: 1.9k (P1)

Warnings: werewolf, shapeshifting, potential smut, chupacabra, blood thirst, full moon, goat death,

Location: Haiti, Caribbean (Insulated fantasy timeline)

The Chupacabra legend dates back to the 1980s when they were started to be seen in Puerto Rico, but many accounts from the local’s date earlier, as well as farther reaching. All through the Caribbean and even as far south as Chile, and as far north as Maine. The legend states that sightings of a dog like creature that fed off the goats, draining them of their blood like a vampire.  Ray caught a whiff of this legend, and like many other expeditions he had been on, post Callie, he wanted to see this thing for himself.  He booked a flight and headed for a sighting a message board said was “fresh” and “hot” in Haiti. Ray knew whatever he found down in Haiti would be worth the trip.

The message board accounts talked about likelihood during a full moon, so Ray made sure he landed and stayed for the duration of that event, four days in the warmth, sun and spirit of the islands. It was mid may in Haiti, the full moon fell on the evening of the 22nd.  Ray flew in that afternoon from Newark, and about a day later he arrived in Port Au Prince, to a balmy 90 degrees, making him shed everything but a t-shirt when he got off the plane. And furthermore wish he owned more than 2 pairs of jeans. He popped into the shop and grabbed some cargo khaki shorts and kind of chortled at them, remembering the last time he wore khaki, in the desert with Simona. Glad to be out of the fray, and into something else, even if it was a wild goose chase by all accounts. Ray didn’t mind, he wanted to find the truth of the mysteries, stir up the natives and see what his lens could pick up.

Ray checked into his hotel room and dropped his stuff, looking out to the sea.  A bar sat along the edge of the beach, so he took a little walk down to it. Music was playing an island tune, the kind that made you want to pull someone onto a dance floor and hold them close. Ray looked over at a young couple, doing just that, he snapped a couple shots and smiled in kind. The girl’s young face was etched along the chest of her lover’s shirt, framed in the light of the sunset. The sky against the lapping shore was bigger than he had ever seen in New Jersey. The night fell fast and after a few beers Ray could watch the moon rise from the sea like a Goddess just missing her lover in rendezvous. He caught what he could with his lens, and then just stared out into the reflections, and listened to the waves crash against the shore.

A women came into view, she was clad in skirts, and a hair wrap, that made her head billow against the moon sitting on the water. Her shadow, an etching upon its face. Ray started snapping again, from afar. Hypnotized by her form as it trailed farther and farther down the beach, until she was just a spec against the looming darkness of the jungle. He swears he could smell her on the wind, as it came towards him. Some kind of rich, earthy scent, that mixed with the sea breeze in an heady manner. It electrified him away from the bar and down the shoreline to the water.

---

Jesula decided to take a walk on the beach that night, her hunger sated from some fresh local fare, she had found in the Port, by a little shack. It was getting late and the moon was rising. Another opportunity to test her mettle and see if she could change. She had become a loner because of her tribe’s rejection, and Jesula wanted more than anything to just know her true power, so she could go back to them. The life of a werewolf could be a lonely one, if you didn’t have your tribe to fall back on. Jesula wore her head wrapped, to conceal, as her ears started to punch through her thick black hair, when the moon rose to its place above the water. Her tail protruded from under her skirts, and started to sway with her hips as she walked.

She had the hunger that was for sure. In more ways than one, but Jesula had not been with anyone, since she was born into this awareness. The thought of laying with another werewolf terrified her, would she like it, would he lose control? She had heard stories, but what about if it was a human man? What if she changed him, then would it be easier? Could it be controlled? Too many questions and not enough answers. Jesula kept walking down the shoreline, focusing on her thoughts, and the taste of blood still in her mouth. She knew no matter what, men would taste different than goats.

---

              Ray trailed after her a little while, until he reached the edge of a rock face, and did not see her anywhere, but that scent still lingered in the rustling of the palm fronds. Hitting his senses and motivating him further. Ray walked into the jungle’s edge, in the dark, barely enough light from the resort to help him. The streetlights were further away, and as the scent drifted away, he felt himself fade as well. Ray stopped and shaking off his wanderlust, he turned around and headed back to the hotel.

---

The next morning, Ray was, as usual passed out in his clothes in his bed, face first like a teenager. He rolled over, the breeze from his room coming through the natural windows. It was already humid today, and Ray peeled himself off his sheets and stumbled into a shower of cooler water. A little shave, and a fresh shirt, shorts, and oh lord, a pair of sandals. He was looking like a tourist for sure now, he chuckled to himself. “Oh if Fester could see me now” he said aloud.

              Ray went into the hotel shop again, looking for some snacks and a map of the area, and stumbled upon a little semblance of bottles on a quaint display. He pulled one out, and read the label, “Vetiver”, he said as he read the bottle. He opened the stopper and took a whiff, yep, that was what he smelled last night on his patio. It flowed in the air as he watched the full moon rise. It was lemony, woody, and earthy with a smoky undertone, bred from the grounds, the rich earth of the region and just as potent as anything else he had imagined before stepping foot here. Just as potent as that woman on the beach last night, her siren’s call that propelled him down the shoreline to her. He hoped her ran into her again, at some point, even if its only at night. Ray paid for the map, some crisps, and the bottle, and headed down the streets towards a village called Petion-Ville.

Ray walked for about an hour, taking in the bright buildings, people and culture. His camera a flurry of clicks as life happened all around him that morning. He found an art gallery and stepped inside. The Galerie d’Art Nader, is a local gallery of artists. Ray looked around at all the fabulous local color, all the art and feeling inspired, he attempted to leave the Galerie and smelled the woman from the night before. This time he heard the lilt of a woman to the scent, and when he turned towards that sound, he saw her looking right at him. She was talking to someone else, but her sharp lavender eyes against her chocolate skin took his breath away.  She didn’t smile at him, not right away, just held his gaze. She finished talking to the other woman he assumed was the owner and stepped towards him boldly.

“Is there anything that interests you?” Jesula asked.

Ray was momentarily stunned, he looked down at his camera, and then back up to her, “Oh, um, yes, but no. I wouldn’t have a place to put it. My walls are already full, but everything here, (he looked around before his eyes landed back on her) is beautiful.”

Jesula felt the heat on her neck when he locked eyes with her again. Something about him was different. She smiled a bit, “Thank you, my friend, owns this place, she is very proud to have so many local artists here.” She pointed to his camera, “Are you an artist as well?”

Ray looked at his camera again, putting the cap back on, “Oh, yeah. Of course. But I don’t paint, that is different type of creation. I am more of a documentarian. Observing life and then capturing it”. He thrust his hand out in the traditional fashion, and she took it, softly in her own. That electric motivation surged when they touched, and both of them felt it. They both visibly twitched and then retreated their mutual hands. “My name is Ray”, Ray said, Jesula looked up at his gaze again, “I am Jesula.” Putting her hand to her chest, fumbling with an amulet around her neck.

Ray found his boldness again, and asked curiously, “Are you working here, or can we, get a coffee?” He kind of chuckled because he wasn’t sure if he was messing up a custom or anything.

Jesula nodded, “We can go get some drinks, sure, let me just let her know I’m leaving.” Jesula walked away, her skirts swooshing, he noticed then some other bells were jingling on her hips. She made music as she moved, that was very attractive to his senses as well. Jesula swished back, and Ray put his hand out to escort her out. She giggled at him, lightly amused, and led him across the streets to the café. They sat down and engaged in conversation for a while, musing at each other, and the heat grew between them as the day grew warmer around them.

Leaving nothing up to chance, Ray asked her out to dinner later in the evening. Jesula accepted and offered to meet him at the bar by the Marriott where he was staying. Ray left her at the café and went back towards his hotel, taking a taxi this time. Jesula had given him some pointers on the best way to use a taxi in Port Au Prince. He was grateful when he was dropped off efficiently and with most of his cash still in his pocket.

Ray logged into his computer when he got back to his room and checked the message boards. Sure enough, someone had been tracking him, and said, “did you see the goat deaths in the area are higher during the full moon? Maybe that’s the connection.” Ray spoke out loud to the screen, “So I’m looking for goats?” he laughed. He typed that as he said it. The message chimed back, “No, but where they have loss, you will be on the trail to catch the infamous Chupacabra.” They are known to feast on the blood of goats, its what started the legend. Fay nodded, “I’ll let you know what I find.” He logged off and closed his laptop. Ticking his hands on the desk. He looked around the room, checking the time on the bedside clock. “So now what do I do?” he said to an empty room.

Part 2…planned. dripping in soon.

Taglist:

@middleearthpixie @legolasbadass @scariusaquarius @sweetestgbye @lathalea @riepu10 @evenstaredits @amylupotter @linasofia @enchantzz

Thanks to all the great writers that supported me through this challenge and those who commented and those who liked my work.

[emeraldspiral]

So, I know that because comic books are designed to go on indefinitely Bruce Wayne can never grow old and retire like he does in Batman Beyond and Joker will never be permanently killed off like he was in Return of the Joker. I think there was even a comic that actually showed that the Batman Beyond future isn’t set in stone by having Tim Drake get kidnapped by the Joker, but then escape unharmed. But like, what if he didn’t? What if the main DC comics continuity actually integrated elements of Return of the Joker into the canon? Like, we already have the Joker being the source of a huge traumatic character redefining moment in Barbara and Jason’s stories, so why not let him do it for Tim Drake?

I think the whole reason they skipped Jason in the DCAU but made Tim a lot more like him than the Tim from the comics is because they knew they weren’t going to be allowed to kill him off like Jason and they felt like that was too important to his character to ignore. But then they ended up putting Tim through something as close to Jason’s brutal murder as they could within the censorship guidelines. I think if it had happened in BTAS instead of Batman Beyond there could’ve been a lot more story to tell, rather than having it just be the setup for a story that takes place decades later. And because it was Tim instead of Jason and because Tim didn’t die, the story would’ve been something completely new rather than an adaptation of the Red Hood storyline that resulted from Jason’s death.

So, what if in the comics there was a whole story arc where Tim Drake goes missing and then Joker debuts a new sidekick, “Joker Jr.” aka “J.J.”?

You could milk that for a while, building it up as a mystery and then a great source of drama when the Batfam realize their new adversary is the missing Tim Drake. Then you have them trying to figure out what happened and how to help Tim. Is he being mind controlled by a machine or a telepath? Or has he been dunked into the same acid bath as Joker and gone completely insane?

Or maybe it’s like what happens to him in the future where Tim is switching back and forth between his identities and no one including him realizes he’s Joker Jr. Maybe he doesn’t even remember the Joker capturing him and anything bad happening. It’s all been repressed so no one knows he went through any trauma and no one suspects a thing until the clues reveal that J.J. can only be Tim.

In the original story we don’t get to actually see the concept of a “Joker fam” play out, and that could’ve been interesting. Joker often gives conflicting information about his background, but it usually involves an abusive father, so putting him in a paternal role might shed some light on what kind of role model he actually had for a parent. Maybe he projects his boyhood trauma onto Tim and either treats him shitty because of his own self-loathing or shows slivers of compassion he wished he’d gotten from his father.

Punchline could replace Harley as Joker’s accomplice in the brainwashing and act as an evil big sister, like a dark parallel to Barbara. She could revel in Tim’s corruption and how much it upsets the people who care about him, or she could view him as a rival for Joker’s attention and approval. Joker could even intentionally pit them against one another.

Whenever Tim gets rescued Joker either doesn't die, or it doesn’t stick, because comics. But then there’s fallout to explore afterward. Like, Tim has to grapple with it for a while, but Bruce is also not handling it well. This is the third time now that the Joker has done something super fucked up to one of his sidekicks. He feels horribly guilty for Jason, Barbara, and Tim, and also worries that Damien might be next. He doesn’t want his loved ones in the line of fire anymore, but he knows already that he can’t make them do anything. Dick and Babs are grown adults and even Damien just does whatever he wants.

So maybe Bruce gets the idea that the only way to force them all to hang up their capes is if he reveals his identity. He’ll claim he coerced them all into helping him so they don’t go to jail, but there would still be consequences for a lot of people. Jim Gordon has to resign and a new corrupt commissioner replaces him. Lucius Fox is indicted and that allows the Powers family to takeover Wayne Enterprises. Alfred has to go into hiding. People start to connect the dots between known associates of Bruce Wayne and deduce the identities of characters like Superman and Catwoman. It’s a huge domino effect. But just as everything is about to implode, this is revealed to just be a hypothetical, like Over the Edge. Batman realizes that even if he were ready to throw everyone else under the bus to protect his sidekicks it wouldn't even work because they’d still have enemies who’d go after them and their families if their covers were blown and they could no longer fight crime.

So Batman realizes the only thing he can do is go to Zatana for help. His relationship with her has been on the rocks ever since he found out she mindwiped him after he walked in on her altering Doctor Light’s mind to make him less dangerous but now he feels like he has no choice but to do something similar to his sidekicks. Of course just mindwiping them wouldn’t work because they still have friends in the Justice League, the Titans, and several other groups who wouldn’t universally agree to keep it a secret. So the only solution would be for Zatana to do some kind of Spiderman No Way Home spell that makes EVERYONE forget all of Batman’s sidekicks.

And just to make sure none of them can ever discover his identity and ask to join his crusade again, he makes them all believe he was an abusive alcoholic who they cut out of their lives. In fact, they believe there was a high-profile lawsuit between Bruce and Dick that resulted in Dick becoming Tim and Damien’s new legal guardian and moving with them to Bludhaven. Dick thinks he didn’t want to depend on the trust fund Bruce set up for him so he started his own company. Barbara believes she was an intern for Bruce Wayne but quit because he was a toxic boss. Jason believes he ran away from home and became a mechanic after a big blowout with Bruce, but still keeps in touch with the other boys. Damien doesn’t remember his mother or grandfather or the League of Assassins at all, he thinks he lived a normal life as the child of a billionaire playboy and a random fling and gets along with Tim and the others just fine. Alfred and Bruce believe Bruce somehow kept his secret from Dick and the others for many years before deciding to purposefully act like a bad parent to drive them all away because he knew the danger was always there and he didn’t feel like he could be the guardian they deserved dividing his time between them and the double-life they couldn’t know about. Only Zatana knows the truth.

So Bruce continues doing his thing as a solo act while the rest of the Batfam are living normal lives. But over time they all end up getting back into vigilantism despite everything Bruce did to keep his influence away from them. Barbara gets interested in politics and running for public office as a means of improving the city, but when her campaign fails she finds she can do more as Oracle. Dick can’t help but intervene when he sees a mugging on the streets of Bludhaven and feels compelled to keep going out to fight crime to make the streets safe for his brothers. Car thieves bring a vehicle to Jason’s shop to be stripped for parts and when he realizes it was stolen from a friend of his who was murdered they try to kill him, forcing him to go to Dick’s to hide out.

Neither Jason nor Dick trust the police to take care of the car theft ring and decide to try and deal with it together. Tim and Damien know something is up despite their efforts to hide it from them and end up following them to a confrontation with the gang. None of them remember their training so they’re in over their heads, but fortunately Black Canary shows up, having been recruited by Barbara to deal with the car theft ring. Canary sees the boys’ potential and starts training them and Barbara and we end up with a Birds of Prey team consisting of Oracle, Black Canary, and quadruple Robins, which tuns into quintuple Robins when Stephanie Brown later joins them. Also, we find out that Dinah Drake and Tim Drake are related and Tim has the same superpower.

Bruce instinctively worries about these new young heroes taken under Black Canary’s wing before he even learns they’re his estranged kids. He confronts her about it but she tells him they’re all making their own choices and she can’t stop them. She can only give them the guidance they need to do what they’re doing as safely as possible. When he does learn their identities and they learn his there’s a lot of drama and angst over Bruce lying to them, being shitty on purpose, and finding out for the first time how much he actually loves them and is proud of them.

The Joker reenters the picture after having been thought dead since the end of the inciting arc with Tim, and this leads to a Joker Jr. relapse. Everyone’s confused as to how Tim could have this repressed split personality/DNA overwriting microchip implant when he’s only met the Joker recently and never been alone with him. Investigating uncovers evidence of mental tampering which eventually leads back to Zatana, who gives everyone the truth. Seeing as how the charade didn’t stop the Batfam from becoming vigilantes again or erase the trauma hiding deep within Tim’s psyche, it seems pointless to keep the spell going, so Zatana restores everyone’s memories.

But it’s not just a hard reset to back before she cast the spell. The whole scandal of Bruce and Dick’s custody battle that tarnished Bruce’s public image is still in the public conscious. Even after announcing that Bruce has cleaned up his act and the boys have reconciled and moved back in with him a lot of people still think Bruce is a dirtbag. Barbara finds she prefers being Oracle to Batgirl and pursuing a career in politics instead of being Batman’s sidekick. Damien still remembers being a normal kid and enjoying normal kid things and is much more well-adjusted. Jason still works as a mechanic and Dick still has his own company and they maintain relationships with workplace associates introduced in this arc. Tim still has to grapple with what Joker did to him, but he also has a strong relationship with “Aunt Dinah” now and a Canary Cry. So he decides it’s finally time to concede the Robin identity to Damien and step out of Bruce’s shadow to create a new identity like Dick, Jason, and Barbara before him.

IDK what his new name could be. “Red Canary” almost sounds like it would work because it’s like when he went by “Red Robin” (Yummm!) combined with his new superpower and relationship with Black Canary. But at the same time, it’s still a derivative sidekick name an not an independent identity like Nightwing, Red Hood, or Oracle. Also, there’s already a Red Canary who was just introduced. I think she’s from another universe, but it still doesn’t really make sense to give Tim a new name so he doesn’t have to share an identity with Damien, but then make him share his new one with someone else.

[gofrenchie]

Can we hear more about your shoresy headcanons?

absolutely! i love talking about them but one of them is pretty sad and could be triggering to some so TW for disordered eating/eating disorders.

so i watched shoresy (the show) with a friend of mine that i met in aa and we'd been joking for months about shoresy being in a 12 step program and noticed while watching that he never actually takes a sip of alcohol on the show.

that one's maybe more of a headcanon than a fan theory because he does hold drinks/have them in front of him in multiple scenes, and he requests a top off during the porch scene. but in my head, he's just super private about his recovery because drinking is such a massive part of both hockey and ontario culture. once you focus on it, it's pretty striking that we never see him actually take a sip whereas in letterkenny everyone's constantly drinking.

(TW: emeto) the ed thing is something i noticed first in lk with the scene of him drilling at the hockey rink until he throws up. another component is the recurring gag of him having major stomach problems. initially, it's just a joke, but my friend commented half-seriously that he has ibs and that's why he's constantly on the toilet during team meetings. i'd already been thinking about his concerning obsession with fitness/winning and the introduction of his foster family and his childhood being a fat kid, so i theorized that he could be abusing laxatives/pre-workout to keep his weight down.

this could absolutely be me making a mountain out of a molehill/projecting my own experiences of mental illness and recovery onto a television character, but i don't know. i think it'd be really incredible of the show to shed a light on eating disorders in men, particularly someone like shoresy who exists in a hyper-masculine world like (semi?) professional hockey.

but yeah that's it! i really love shoresy and i hope we 1) get a season 2 and 2) get to see more of his mental health journey because there's definitely something going on there.

[liroyalty]

Oh he was home late, another meeting gone awry, so many different Angels talking and yelling all to get their way in some sort of fashion. While Adam once participated in such dilemma’s he had recently found himself giving less of a shit. However, that didn’t mean he could just skip out on meetings.

When he came home, his proper home, the one he was always welcomed to, where his wife always awaited for him, it was like breathing fresh air for the first time. It was unfortunate that when he found her, she seemed to have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him. Now that wouldn’t due.

Adam moves close to her and scoops her up into his arms “Come on, I’m home. Let’s go to bed my love.” And that’s where he would take her, to her large bed where he chose to sleep in every night with her. Putting her in bed, removing his clothes and soon joining her.

This. This was the Heaven he wanted. True paradise. Holding his love closest to him, wings slowly doing the same after all why would you need a blanket if you had such comfortable feathers to keep you warm?

“I love you, with all the time I’ve spent alive and more. Goodnight.”

Everytime Adam came back, he was greeted in the same fashion. A hug & a kiss, with Sue's warm voice telling him 'Welcome home'. Making clear the joy & longing the she-devil always has for his presence & the delight of seeing him again. But today was a draining day, for the both of them. Adam had his meetings with the angels, Sue had her own meetings with fellow devils, & they were their own cast of colorful characters to be sure. Annoying, insufferable, she felt the weight she once felt back in life when dealing with people.

She was lucky enough to not have to stay out late from her own meeting, it let her wait for Adam to come back home. A wife loyally & lovingly waiting for her husband... & waiting... & waiting... until sleep takes over. The exhaustion of a long drawn out day taking hold. And it is only the the endearing arms of the man she was waiting for scooping her up is what wakes her, scarlet eyes opening slightly to the warmth of gold.

"... Welcome home...." Though half-asleep, still those words find their way out of her lips, a smile small but pure forming them, face colored a light pink to have the warmth of his arms cocooned around her. Even if he only lets go of her for a moment, just to put her down on that addictively soft bed of hers, & to shed his heavenly robes, every second without that warmth from him is a second missed.

Even in sleeping daze, she's eager to be back in his arms, scooting herself close once Adam lays his figure onto the bed with her. Arms wrapping around his waist, legs coiling right around one of his & pulling him close; clinging onto him while he shrouds them in the warmth of his golden wings, her favorite & most beloved of all people she's known. This was a luxury she hadn't known before, the luxury of a partner, a spouse, someone to hold well into sleep & then again in the morning; at any time, any moment, of the day. It was not something she would want to ever trade. Not for anything. Not for anyone. Nothing & no one could ever replace him.

"I love you too... Adam. ... I would never trade you for anything... my love, my life."

[hops-hunny]

Stories That Are Told

Pairing: Tarrant “Hatter” Hightopp x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n)’s so used to being the background character in everyone’s story that she forget she can be the main character in her own.

Warnings: Slight angst but majority fluff!

A/N: I love this man with my whole being omg pls

Stumbling into Wonderland with Alice had been a wonderful thing for not only Alice, but (Y/n) as well. For Alice it was an escape from all the things she didn’t wanna do and would never wanna do. She wasn’t forced to marry some sod of a guy who’d make her miserable for the rest of her life or to be the proper lady she was expected to be, but instead she got a taste of freedom. And although it was an escape for (Y/n) as well, it was an escape of a different kind.

In the other world, with it’s dreary skies and monotonous patterns and cycles, (Y/n) lived a very humdrum life. Her family had never been as fortunate as Alice in any ways of the sorts, it was a miracle that they were friends to begin with. Alice’s father had been friends with (Y/n)’s since boyhood and because of that, he always made sure they knew they were welcome to anything of his that they wished. And while (Y/n)’s father had never taken advantage of that from the way Alice’s mother treated (Y/n) and her family, it wouldn’t be hard to think otherwise.

When Charles was still around, she hadn’t done anything out of line. The older woman always kept to herself, occasionally having an afternoon cup of tea with her own mom. However, her true colors and feelings came to light after the passing of her husband. During the next few months after her husband’s absence, the (L/n)s were there for Kingsleighs. Although they didn’t have the funds to help them monetarily (for they also didn’t need it), they offered their labor and services to the two as much as they needed. Farm work, house cleaning, garden maintenance. Anything you could think they had done. But as soon as Helen was well (as well as you could be after losing someone so dear) , she had forbid them from coming to their property. She didn’t believe her and Alice should associate with people of “such low stature” because it didn’t “align with their image”. But that had never stopped Alice.

Anywhere Alice went, (Y/n) was always there by her side right along with her. They practically went everywhere together and that hadn’t changed since they arrived in Wonderland. (Y/n) was grateful that she had chased after her friend. It was like she knew something would happen. Afterall, crazy things always happen when you put two curious girls together for more than a moment. The friends they had made since they arrived were nothing short of lovely. She knew her sister would describe them as odd characters and disturbing individuals. Telling her to stay far away from them and to not associate herself with those types. But what was wrong with being odd or even disturbing? The only things worth doing in life were a bit odd and disturbing and if that made her peculiar than so be it. 

For the first time in her life, she felt as though she belonged. Sure, it wasn’t her story nor her destiny to be here as it was Alice but that did not mean she did not appreciate Wonderland for what it was. The story had never been her story, not here, and certainly not where they were from. Alice was the main chat and she was the topic that would get trickled in after. 

“Everyone has a part to play, (Y/n). Even if it is not large or as set in stone, each person’s role is necessary for the story to progress, even yours. You’ll see.” the words of that tricky caterpillar replayed in her head over and over again whenever she had a moment to think. What had he meant by that? Was her story not more than to be here in support of her dearest friend and the latest edition to their friends? Was she not just a tool in the scheme of things? (Y/n) had never known people of lesser importance as herself to contribute much of anything big to a legacy as large as Alice’s! 

From her end of the table, she watched as Hatter threw his hat high into the air before it landed on his head causing everyone to erupt in a jostled mess of laughter and cheering. She smiled fondly from a far. Tarrant was a kind man. No matter what was going on or where they were, he always had a way of making her feel included. That’s just who he was. He had known what it was like to feel excluded from things and the last thing he’d wanna do is be the cause of that for someone else. But it was nothing more than his nature, that’s it.

“You know, you should just tell him how you feel.” a velvety voice sounded from beside her ear causing her to jump. The (h/c) haired girl glared at the purple cat, reaching a hand to swat him away but he disappeared once more before appearing on her other side. “He watches you often, even when there is not many around to see. But I always do of course.” The Cheshire cat said in a sure tell tone. The girl scoffed at him, shoving another small pastry into her mouth.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your jokes today, cat. So if you’ve come to mock my feelings during my 2nd to last day in Wonderland, I wish you well and send you off.” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest, turning her gaze away from him back to Tarrant who was already looking at her. The Hatter gave her a secret wink and a smile before turning back to the March Hare who seemed rather frazzled about something. Or perhaps excited. But once again, the grinning cat appeared in front of her face once more.

“Silly girl, you ignore the plain truth in front of you? I can see why you and Alice get along so well, both of you can be quite foolish. Oh well, the story isn’t over yet after all.” and with that he was gone. What did he mean by that? The story was clearly over. Alice had done what she set out to do. The Jabberwocky had been slain, the White Queen ruled once again, and all had been made well. And what was with everyone with stories? Not everything you can do will always be a story and not every story comes to an end. She decided not to dwell much on it. This was her last night she’d ever spend in Wonderland and she’d rather like to keep it in good memory.

So when the White Queen offered her a hand to dance she took it, their dresses swaying in the wind in oppositional unison. They all danced with one another, twirling, laughing, and having a grand time. The entire time the smile never once left (Y/n)’s face which a certain hatted man enjoyed with all his being.

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

“I can’t believe you’re leaving today. It seems as if it was only yesterday when you arrived.” the girl swiveled around to see the red head there, a bittersweet smile on his face. His smile grew once she turned to face him. Removing his hat, he bowed as he grabbed one of her hands placing a delicate kiss to the top of it. “I am delighted to have known a woman as graceful as you.” hot tears sprung into her eyes which she quickly got rid of before he stood up. Giggling some she hopped onto the large sit swing, motioning for him to join her.

“Don’t get sad yet, Hatter. I’ve still got a few hours left. You can’t rid of me that easily.” he joined her on the swing, a wide grin still on his face. Although it was partly real, she could tell there was some sadness lingering behind it. (Y/n) turned her gaze to the sight in front of them. From the large benched swing, you could see just about all of wonderland over the edge of the cliff. “Besides, there’s not much to miss. I’m just me.”

“And ‘just you’ is a lot! I’ll miss everything about you. The way you mimic the bird calls you hear, the way you get excited when the rock you skipped across the water goes further than you imagined,” she looked at him in shock as he continued to speak, “E-even the smaller things like how you leave the crust of your sandwich for last and give your crumbs to the ants. But I think more importantly I’ll...I’ll just miss your presence.” he said the last part softly, staring off the edge of the cliff to avoid her gaze. A million thoughts raced through her heads as he spoke. Could it really be? Could he really share the same feelings as she did? (Y/n) reached a shaky (s/c) hand to lay on top of Hatter’s pale one, intertwining their fingers.

“Hatter, I've got something to tell you. During my time here in Wonderland, I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve had with everyone. But more importantly, I’ve enjoyed my time so much with you and I believe it’s only fair to share with you that my feelings I have for you go beyond those of normal friendship. I guess you can say I’ve grown...quite mad for you.” his head whipped to face her as he stared into her eyes, tears welling within his own. He flashed her another smile except this one was genuine, filled with the love and warmth he had shown her the entirety of her time in Wonderland.

“(Y/n)! Alice sent me to fetch you. I’m afraid it’s time for the two of you to head back.”

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

After a lot of shedded tears, heartfelt speeches, and goodbyes that were nothing short of wholesome, it was time for the two to head home. Alice patted (Y/n)’s shoulder before holding her arm out for her to grab. As they neared the portal, (Y/n) turned around once more to stare at her friends but when she got to Tarrant, her heart began to break. The gaze they held with one another was long until she simply couldn’t take it. Without thinking she ran up to him once more, grabbing his shoulders tightly.

“Hatter, Tarrant, I need to know how you feel. I couldn’t live with myself if I left and never knew.” he shook his head, looking away from her as he tried to stop the waterworks that were withheld behind the dam. Hot tears streamed down the delicate skin of the girl’s face. “Hatter...please.” her voice was broken as she begged.

“I believe I wasn’t honest myself either. I am completely enamored by you, my dear. I wish I had said something sooner but even though I couldn’t, I’ll always hold a special place for you in here.” he said, placing a hand over his heart. Standing on the tips of her toes, she leaned forward placing a quick peck to his cheek.

“What if it isn’t too late? What if I stayed?” she started, watching as he shook his head, “Hatter listen! You may think I’d regret if I stay but I think I would regret even more not following my heart the first time it’s ever tried to tell me something. Nothing would make me happier than staying here with you...that is if you’d allow it.” a silence fell over as everyone awaited his answer. Without another thought Hatter leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet. Filled with a silent promise, a silent vow to care for her as deeply as his heart will allow. 

“I do not know what I did to get so lucky, but I would do it again if needed.” she felt herself grow flustered at his words. A quick peck was placed on his lips before walking over to Alice once again. The blonde had tears of her own in her eyes. She was glad her friend had found something to fight for, something to call her own. But also for the first time in many years, they would not see each other everyday as they once did. They both stared at each other before throwing themselves into each other's arms, laughing in unison as bittersweet tears fell.

“Good luck. Make sure you put your foot down. You’re Alice! You listen to no one and march to no one’s drum but your own.” Alice gave her a curt nod.

“Take care. We’ll meet again, do not doubt it.” 

Although Alice’s story had seemingly come to an end, it seemed as though (Y/n)’s story was just beginning. For once she wasn’t the side character in someone’s tale, but the main character in her own.

TAGSLIST: @de4ds0up @pink-hufflepuff​ @redpanda-poetry​

[bucksfucks]

messing with a gemini | chris evans

gif credit.

SUMMARY || chris is a gemini, so you should expect nothing less than snide remarks, witty charm, and mind-blowing sex.

PAIRING || chris evans x reader

WORD COUNT || 1,902 words

WARNINGS || banter, teasing, cocky!chris, definite praise kink, light choking kink, chris goes down on the reader, fingering, oral, drinking, unprotected sex, both smutty, soft, and teasing — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

NOTES || mmmmgmmgmgmgmgmg yeah

     The sound of the door shutting can only mean one thing.

    “Look what the cat dragged in,” you greet him, not turning around to face him.

    “Sweetheart if you don’t learn to shut that pretty little mouth of yours, I’ll do it for you.”

    Another snide remark, another sly smirk, and another roll of your eyes as Chris slides past you with a cup of tea in his hands.

    “You couldn’t make me if you tried.” You spat back, narrowing your eyes at him as you watched him quirk an eyebrow; intrigued at your comment.

    “Is that a challenge? Because you know I never back down from you.” He replies cooly, folding his arms over his chest before taking a sip of his hot drink.

    “Ah yes, how could I forget,” you feign enthusiasm, “you’re a Gemini.” You deadpan and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

    He kicks his foot off the wall behind him, “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” He winks, brushing past your shoulder as you scoff.

    He’s gonna out of your sight before you have the chance to say anything else, letting out an exasperated sigh as you will yourself to calm down.

    “Hey!” Someone shouts through the trailer door, “can you run down to makeup for backup?” You don’t get to answer.

    “Thanks!”

    Before whoever it was slammed the door shut and you let out another frustrated groan.

    You knew what you signed up for, you weren’t head of makeup. You weren’t even assistant head. No, you were one of the nobodies.

    Someone they hire to run from one end of set to the other only to get yelled at for not having enough brushes or the right shade of a palette.

    It was almost poetic.

    “Hey, I’m here, what did you guys need?” You ask as you put on a fake smile and enter the makeup trailer.

    The trailer where Chris is sat getting his hair done.

    Your blood boiled, wasn’t he supposed to be a charmer? A sweetheart? Maybe he was just really getting into character?

    “Can you sweep the floor and make sure there’s no more hair?”

    You had to physically fight the urge to drop your face, “sure!”

    You grabbed the broom, feeling embarrassed as you quietly sunk into the background as you felt Chris’ eyes on you.

    A few medial, mind numbing tasks later and it was closing in on 2am. Your notification-less phone screen lit up the empty trailer you were left to clean up.

    Not that you really minded.

    You find solace in the only time of the day where things seem to slow down. You also didn’t hate being alone where you could listen to music and clean hairbrushes.

    “So this is what you do after we cut.” The sound of Chris’ laugh startles you as you let out a soft yelp.

    He has a soft smile on his face, almost unrecognizable without his beard.

    “I thought I was alone,” you reply meekly, turning the volume lower on your phone as Chris shook his head.

    “Oh, I know,” he laughs, “I don’t think anyone would be belting out Queen like that if they didn’t think they were alone.”

    Once again, you feel embarrassed in front of him, shaking your head.

    “Whatever,” you try to brush it off. “Did you need something?” You ask as he shakes his head.

    “I was just checkin’ in on you.” He replies and you’re a little taken aback.

    “Oh, well thanks, but I’m okay. Just finishing up cleaning.” You said with a tight lipped smile and a nod of your head.

    Chris stands there for a second, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks over his shoulder before clearing his throat.

    “Well uh, some of the cast and crew are havin’ some drinks and pizza later, if you wanted to tag along.”

    The invite makes your stomach drop into your lower belly as you open your mouth.

    You have to take a moment to formulate the words.

    “It’s getting pretty late, I think I’m just gonna head back to my hotel room. Parties aren’t really my thing.” You joke, lightening the mood as Chris cracks a smile.

    “Sure thing, sweetheart. The invites always there,” he says before turning on his heels and leaving you to yourself.

    Chris Evans was an enigma that you didn’t think you’d ever crack.

~

    The soft knock at your door caused your neck to snap in its direction, uncrossing your legs as you slid off the too big hotel bed and looked through the peep hole.

    It was hard to make out the figure, but it looked like...no, it couldn’t be.

    “Chris?” His name slipped through your lips as you opened the door.

    He beamed a smile as he held up a case of beer and box of pizza.

    “Turns out, parties aren’t my thing either.”

    You couldn’t help but chuckle as you moved aside to let him in.

    “And you decided that coming to my room at,” you had to check the time, “3:16 in the morning was the logical thing to do?”

    He set everything down on the coffee table before hopping onto your bed, “yup.”

    You had to roll your eyes as you laughed, closing and locking the door as you stepped in front of him.

    “C’mon kid,” oh, why did that do something to you?

    “You work hard every day of the week, you deserve one night to not care about anything.” His words were gentle as he stood up to grab a beer.

    “Want one?” He asked, holding a beer up as you replayed his words.

    “Sure,” he was right, you do deserve a break.

    You both took a seat on the small, uncomfortable couch in the room as you took a sip. Well, it was beer.

    “So,” you broke the silence, “the Chris Evans doesn’t like parties?” You quirked an amused eyebrow as he laughed.

    “Maybe I wanted to escape to see you, is that so bad?” He said, licking his bottom lip; not breaking eye contact.

    You shook your head, “such a fucking Gemini,” you mumble as Chris smirks.

    “What did I say about that smart mouth of yours?” He eggs you on, leaning forward and giving your knee a squeeze.

    “I don’t remember.” You bite back, feeling your heart kicking in your chest as you feel his breath fanning over your face.

    “Maybe I should teach you a lesson or two then, hmm?” He purrs, running his free hand up your neck and resting it there.

    “I dare you,” you mumble, transfixed on the feeling of his warm hands on you.

    The dominos fall and Chris’ lips are meshed with yours, the faint taste of beer on them as you wrap your fingers in the collar of his shirt.

    “You know I never back down from a challenge,” he murmurs against your lips before taking you by the hand and leading you to the bed.

    He pushes you onto it, the sheets around you as the weight of Chris’ body pushed you further into it.

    “Ah ah,” he tsks when you let out a soft moan, “I thought I told you to keep quiet for me.”

    You swallow thickly, throat dry and lips parted as you gasp when you can feel the weight of him between your hips.

    “Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you be a good girl?” He purrs, absolutely knowing what it does to you as you writhe under him. 

    “Good,” he hums. “Now let’s see how good you are when I’m between your legs makin’ then shake.”

    His wink doesn’t go unnoticed by you as your clothes are shed, his coming off until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

    There’s little left to the imagination, the outline of his cock clear as he wraps his hands around your ankles and tugs you down to the end of the bed.

    You yelp, sliding off the pillows as he sinks to his knees, hungry eyes just waiting to taste you.

    “Look at you,” he cooes, “drippin’ at the thought of me between your thighs?” He mocks, cocking his head to side as he keeps your legs open.

    Chaste kisses are pressed to your inner thighs, gently as you try to stop the plea’s that are begging to slip past your mouth.

    “You’re bein’ so patient for me too, good girl.” He praises, he breath over your core is hot as you grab for his hair.

    The feeling of his tongue makes you moan and squeeze your legs around his head.

    “Mmm,” he hums, “that good already?”

    If he wasn’t buried between your legs you might’ve, just might’ve had the courage to roll your eyes.

    His fingers tease your entrance as his mouth works over your clit.

    There’s no holding back now.

    You don’t care how loud you’re being, giving into the sensation as he works you to the edge, your legs shaking.

    “You wanna come, don’t you, pretty girl?” Yes, God, yes.

    “Well that’s too bad,” he taunts making you let out a whine.

    “Not until I’m buried deep ‘side of you,” he grunts, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes until he’s crawling back over you with a condom in his hand.

    You’re still dizzy, slightly angry from your denied orgasm, but wanting nothing more than to feel him stretching you out.

    “You think you’re ready for my cock,” he smirks teasingly as you feel him at your entrance.

    You whine, bringing his lips to your but he stops you at the last second.

    “Uh uh baby, I wanna hear you beg for it.” He taunts, nose brushing yours.

    “Fuck,” you whimper, “please, just fuck me.” You beg, eyes meeting his.

    That’s all he needs before he’s slowly sinking into you, watching your face contort in immeasurable pleasure.

    “Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, “so tight and warm.”

    Your fingers dig into his speckled back, finding your ground as you dig into the soft skin as he thrusts into you.

    Suddenly, the only think you can think about is how good this feels.

    “My pretty girl,” he whispers, bending your one leg at the knee to get a deeper angle.

    “Takin’ my cock so goddamn well,” he grunts, “gonna make me come.”

    His words send a shiver down your spine as your walls flutter around him. He drops on one of his elbows, getting impossibly close to you.

    “You’re gonna come too, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He teases, lips on yours swallowing every moan before you feel a hand around your throat.

    “Look at me when you come, baby,” he purrs, applying just the slightest amount of pressure to the column of your throat.

    “Wanna see you come for me,” he smirks, his thrusts getting harsher before you feel yourself giving into your orgasm.

    Your body shakes as your mouth falls open, his name a breathy moan before you feel his hips stuttering.

    He sounds exhausted after he spills inside of you, tumbling on top of you as you’re left in sweaty silence as you’re left with nothing to do but run your fingers through his dampened hair.

    “Gemini or not, you’re what made me weak in the knees, sweetheart.” Chris whispers, eyes on yours as you feel a flutter in your heart.

    “There’s somethin’ about you that I won’t ever grow tired of, that I’m sure about.”

[theweasleysredhair]

In Safe Hands [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 4339

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: George is just very attractive and his hands are even more attractive.

WARNING: this is NSFW, 18+, smutty, sexy times, idk how else to say it. including oral (female receiving). also a lot of mentions of hands, arms and veins bc i canny control myself apparently.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @acciotwinz @rexorangecouny @mischi3f-manag3d @obsessedwithrandomthings @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @harrysweasleys @ickle-ronniekins @wand3ringr0s3 @theweirdsideofstuff | message or send an ask to be added to my smut taglist - you must be 18+!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i put two requests for my event together as i decided to write a full fic based on george’s hands purely because prompt 9, which both requesters selected, refers to hands - enjoy!!

Prompts used:

3. “I may or may not have left some... marks.”

9. “God I love your hands.” “Let’s put them to good use then.”

23. “Didn’t know you wanted to get into my pants that badly.”

49. “Behave.”

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

You’d always liked George - why wouldn’t you? He was funny, charming, handsome. You’d be stupid not to. It had started back in Hogwarts - you were friends with the twins; close friends. And that’s all you thought of them as, until one fateful day in your 7th year where you made the regrettable decision to meet the twins after one of their last games of Quidditch before Umbridge had banned them, and George had emerged from the Gryffindor tent freshly showered, shirt hanging over his shoulder, trousers low on his hips.

And that’s when you’d realised you liked George as much more than just friends.

You hadn’t known how to deal with him at first, how to act around him, once you’d realised how you felt. Because every time he laughed, every time he ran a hand through his hair, you felt yourself positively swooning, as cliché as it sounded.

It took a lot not to accidentally blurt out your feelings to him, not that you were helped by Fred, who noticed the slight differences in your behaviour - holding onto hugs from George a tad longer, the way you looked at him when he didn’t realise, how flustered you got when he’d rest a hand on your knee - and made it his mission to make your feelings as obvious as possible in front of his brother.

George must’ve been the most oblivious person however, as he never noticed the hints or the longing smiles. Or maybe that was because he was busy trying to stop Fred from making his own crush on you so obvious, trying to hide his own longing smiles, and the way his eyes lit up when he made you laugh.

The twins had left Hogwarts soon after you’d realised your feelings, in a fit of fireworks, and then suddenly you were dealing with Umbridge alone, with her detentions alone. Not that you blamed them for leaving at all - you knew they were out living their dream and all you could wish to do was support them. It didn’t make being at Hogwarts any easier though, dealing with all the Educational Decrees. However, you thought the space and distance would help you to get over George, and it did.

Until you saw him again in his shop. The twins had sent you a letter in the middle of your NEWTs asking you to come and work for them, an offer that you gladly accepted, however arriving at their store on your first day - after the initial overwhelming feeling of pride at seeing how well their store was doing, how successful they were - you knew you weren’t at all over him.

He stood there, a smirk etched on his face, suit fitted to him as he crossed his arms over his chest, standing on the stairs in the shop as he looked down at you, and your felt your heart racing, cursing yourself over still being so hung up on the man.

His eyes slowly took in your appearance - you’d worn a cute sundress, due to the warm weather, your hair falling loosely around your shoulders and George felt his own heartbeat quicken.

He’d fancied you since his 6th year, most likely before that, the realisation hitting him when he had seen you dancing with some prat from Ravenclaw at the Yule Ball, when you should have gone with him. After that, after seeing how utterly stunning you’d looked that day, with your ballgown and hair done, he knew he’d never be able to look at you the same.

And even now, after not seeing you for months, you didn’t fail to leave him speechless, so effortlessly beautiful in his eyes that he couldn’t help but look at you as though you’d hung all the stars in the sky.

“Long time no see, eh love?” He spoke, moving down the last couple of steps and towards you, “Still gorgeous as ever.”

You grinned at him, “Always the charmer, eh Weasley?”

He chuckled, opening his arms to wrap them around you to bring you into a warm hug, one you gladly accepted as you wrapped your own arms around his waist, taking a deep breath as the familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, making you grin. He rested his chin on your head and closed his eyes, smiling as he felt you nuzzle into his chest.

Merlin, he thought being away from you had lessened his feelings for you but in that moment, with you in his arms, he was struck with the same realisation he’d had in his 6th year - that he was in love with you.

And, unbeknownst to him, as your grip around him tightened a little, the hug lasting a tad too long to be friendly, however neither of you mentioning anything about it, you’d come to the same realisation.

Which brought you to now.

Being around George again was amazing, you had to admit. And whilst you hated the way you kept fumbling with products, or how clumsy you’d get around him - something Fred still loved to tease you about - you also adored how he made you feel, how happy, how content - he made your life that much better, a light in an ever increasing darkening world.

You’d been working with the twins for a few months, and it was amazing, truly a better job than you could have predicted. What made the job difficult, however, was trying to keep cool when George walked around looking like he did, interacting with the guests, making the children laugh at his jokes.

Godric, could he get any more attractive?

He’d seemed to up the ante this week, almost on purpose you swore, constantly walking around in just his shirt and tie due to the summer heat, the lack of a jacket meaning you were faced with doing your job and working with customers whilst also trying not to stare at the way his shirt fit snugly around him, or how his forearms were showcased due to him rolling his sleeve to his elbows, veins appearing any time he tended his arms, whether that be due to moving things around the shop, demonstrating how certain products worked, or lifting and moving heavy equipment.

The latter of which currently occurring, as Fred had left George alone to deal with a delivery after the shop had shut.

You were stood at the Pygmy Puff display, moving cages around and making sure they were well looked after when you heard some grunts coming from the store room, as if someone had picked up something with a lot of weight. You then heard footsteps behind you, making you pause with the last - feisty - Pygmy Puff in your hand, the rest having been put into their cages.

You turned around, breath hitching in your throat as you took in the sight before you. Namely, George Weasley holding what appeared to be quite a heavy box, if his staggered breathing was anything to go by. He’d shed his jacket somewhere in the back, along with his waistcoat, leaving him in just his shirt, which was tightly fitted and, you noticed as he placed the box down on top of another cardboard box, stuck to him a little with sweat from the heavy lifting. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showcasing his forearms, and you found yourself gulping as your eyes wandered down the prominent veins, to his large hands, one of which was pulled through his messy ginger hair, pushing the strands out of his face.

And he had no idea.

He had no idea at all that suddenly you couldn’t focus, that suddenly all the breath had left your lungs, that suddenly all you could think about was how his hands would feel on you, holding your waist, gripping your hips, squeezing your thighs. How his fingers would feel inside of you.

George looked over at you and shot you a grin, one that made your heart race even more than it already was, “Bloody big delivery today, eh? ‘S what happens when I let Fred order the ingredients.”

You gave him an almost starstruck smile, which he accepted gladly, before reaching up and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling at his tie to loosen it, your jaw dropping almost comically as you secretly watched him.

He noticed halfway through his action that you’d gotten extremely silent, your mouth open ever so slightly and George wondered if it was because of him. Merlin he hoped so, because if you wanted him as much as he wanted you, well, he’d be happy to take you right there and then against the till counter.

He turned away to disappear back into the stockroom, biting his lip as indecent thoughts filled his mind, heading to grab the next couple of boxes.

Back on the shop floor, you took a deep breath, rubbing your eyes and cursing yourself. You should not be stood ogling your best friend, much less your best friend who was also your boss, no matter how attractive he happened to be. You should be going through the boxes to separate ingredients out, helping with the displays and doing your job.

But no, instead you were stood, still holding the Pygmy Puff that was now trying to escape your hands, imagining all the things you wanted that man to do to you. And what you wanted to do to him.

Merlin.

You popped the Pygmy Puff into the cage, and wandered over to the box that George had just brought in, trying to push the thoughts of how you could see the outline of his abs through his shirt away as you began pulling out different ingredients.

He came back around the corner, holding two boxes this time, the top one covering most of his face due to the size, allowing you to stare longingly at the way his fingers were wrapped around the edges of the boxes, gripping tightly. You bit your lip as he turned from you to place the boxes down, watching as the shirt moved closely against his back, accentuating his shoulder blades as he bent down and Merlin did you wish you could see his muscles without the shirt.

“Need any help?” You managed to stutter out, trying to act as if you hadn’t been staring at him. Still bending over as he sorted out the boxes, he paused his actions and looked up at you, shooting you a cheeky grin. “Don’t you worry at all, love, I’ve got it, I am extremely strong after all,” he winked, and Godric, didn’t you know it, “You just stand there looking your best, that’s all the motivation I need.”

And suddenly you’d forgotten how to speak, how to breathe. You just nodded, though he didn’t see as his attention was back on the box in front of him. You watched him sift through the products, fingers moving nimbly, occasionally bringing out the odd jar or packet, sometimes throwing it in the air and catching it before placing it to one side.

He brought out a smaller box of vials, which he held from the top, placing it in front of you and gripping it tighter to emphasise his hands when he saw your gaze lingering.

He smiled to himself, pushing his sleeves up - making you swallow harshly - as he pretended not to know you were watching him, all the while flexing just for your benefit.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes kept drifting over to him, couldn’t help that watching him be so efficient with flipping glass jars in the air and holding different ingredients made you that much more attracted to him. You couldn’t help your thoughts racing, thinking about asking him to use his hands on you and-

“Godric, I love your hands.”

Your eyes widened in shock as his head turned to you, your own hand covering your mouth as you realised what you’d just said, and you began stammering out, “I-I... I didn’t mean- I- George-“

George gave a pretend look of shock, as if he hadn’t purposely been working you up for the last however-long. “You like my hands?” He asked with a smirk, glancing down at them before his gaze fell back on you, taking in the sight of you being so flustered. You got lost in the way his eyes held yours, and you could do nothing but nod slowly, making George bite his lip and step forward.

His heart was racing at your confession, not quite believing it was happening but very much wanting to do something with that information, “If you like them so much, let’s put them to good use.”

“W-what?”

George looked you up and down, his tongue darting out to wetten his bottom lip, “You like my hands, and I wanna use them on you, darling. You going to let me?”

You took in the way he was looking at you - like all his dreams had come true, like you were the only thing he cared about, like he loved you. “Absolutely,” you breathed out.

And suddenly his hands were on your waist, bringing you closer to him as he brushed his lips against yours, savouring the first few moments of you being so close to him, before kissing you properly. His lips were soft, moving against yours in a way that, had you not have known any different, you may have thought he’d been kissing you for years. It felt familiar, yet with an added layer of something new. A kiss that made your skin feel like it was on fire, that, as he angled his head to deepen it, made your stomach flutter, and mind race.

It was so perfect, even with the occasional bump of your noses - so perfectly George - that you didn’t want it to end. He pulled away a little, pressing more kisses to your lips before he began moving down to your neck, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your skin, making you let out small, breathy moans, feeling him smile against you.

You ran your hands down his chest, playing gently with the buttons and pulling his tie completely off, and heading towards his belt as he licked the skin just below your ear.

Beginning to unbuckle his belt, you also “accidentally” brushed against the evident tent in his pants, and he pulled away from you to grin, “Didn’t know you wanted to get into my pants that badly, love.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and bit your lip at him, making his heart beat a little faster, “Your fault for bringing that delivery in so attractively.”

You’d managed to unbuckle his belt and pulled him back in for a kiss, him mumbling against your lips, “Might get Fred to order stock more often then if this is what happens.”

He led you over to the stairs, stumbling a little up the bottom two steps before trapping you against the banister for a moment, holding you close to him as he continued to kiss you, his tongue easily gliding into your mouth.

Between kisses, and George pulling your shirt off, you made it to the apartment above the shop, heading down the hallway and bumping into the cabinet that was stood between the bathroom and Fred’s room, before arriving at his bedroom door, which he nudged open with his feet, bringing you inside.

He held you by the waist, fingertips tightening a little as he pulled away from the kiss for air, and to lift you up so he could throw you onto the bed, the impact making your breasts bounce and George breathed out a, “Fuck, c’mere.”

He crawled on top of you, your back arching into the mattress as your arms looped around his neck, playing with the tufts of ginger hair at the base of his neck as you brought him back in for another kiss. Your hands moved down to begin unbuttoning his shirt, something you’d been imagining all day, before throwing it to the other side of the room, George doing the same with your bra.

A few moments later, you’d both shed the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare against him, breasts pressed against his chest, his arms either side of your head, supporting his weight above you. You could feel his breath hitting your hitting your lips, his face centimetres from yours.

In stark contrast to the compromising position you were in, George looked down at you with love, a look that warmed your heart as you gave him a small, almost shy, smile.

“You know I- uh- I love you, right? I’m in love with you, darling.” He looked almost vulnerable as he said that, his eyes flickering across your face as his lips parted a little.

You lifted your head up so your forehead rested against his, hands clutching his shoulders, “I’m in love with you too, Georgie.”

“Me or my hands?” He joked, making you shake your head and laugh. You pretended to think for a moment before replying, “Maybe both.”

“Let’s see if I can make you come from just my hands then, shall we?” He grinned, making your heart race as his fingers danced down your stomach before pressing against your clit.

“So wet for me,” He commented, circling it slowly, smirking at the way you let out little breathy moans, before he entered a finger into you, taking advantage of the way your back arched in order to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked on it, gently nibbling as he pushed his finger in and out of you, before adding a second finger, stretching you out a little.

“George,” you breathed out as he moved to your other breast.

He continued moving his fingers against you, in you, and you felt the familiar feeling of pleasure building in your stomach.

After being so wound up from watching him, you knew it wouldn’t take much more to reach your high, and as he continued to kiss your breasts, you breathed out slowly, almost embarrassed at how quickly he’d managed to turn you into a pile of mush at his touch.

“I’m close,” you whimpered, as George moved from your breasts to your collarbone, his thumb adding a little more pressure to your clit as his fingers moved.

Picking up his pace ever-so-slightly, he brought you closer to your high. He felt you clench around his fingers and pressed a kiss to your jawline. “Come for me princess,” he whispered against your ear in a low tone, making you shiver.

George watched the way you closed your eyes, mouth open and head tilted back as your high washed over you, pleasure running through you, and felt himself harden at the sight.

His fingers continued moving against you, although at a slower pace, and your hips jolted towards him at the overstimulation, “‘S a good girl.” He leant forward, pressing his body against yours as he kissed you gently.

“Think you can come for me again, love?”

You were breathing heavily from your first orgasm, though with the way his fingers were moving against you, you knew you’d be reaching your second before you could properly catch your breath. You nodded at him before he began trailing back down your stomach and settled himself between your legs.

You shivered as he lightly pressed kisses on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his hands squeezing your hips, before he licked into you, making you gasp out and clutch the bedsheets tightly. Letting out a moan as he pushed a finger back into you, you closed your eyes, head falling back against the headboard as you breathed out heavily from the way his tongue was moving against you.

You bucked your hips against him involuntarily, causing his free hand to push your hips back down and he looked up from between your legs, his eyes catching yours as he smirked against you, “Behave, darling.” You moaned as the vibrations of just those two words travelled through you, the hand not enclosed around his heading towards his messy hair and running through it, pulling at strands as you felt his tongue flatten against you.

Feeling your second orgasm creeping up on you, you wrapped your legs around his head and let out a moan as you felt George groan against you. Your second high felt more intense than the first, and the feel of George’s tongue pushing inside you made you moan out loudly, the feeling taking over you before you relaxed against him, legs falling onto his shoulders.

“You look so pretty when you come,” he grinned, moving back to hover over you. He pressed himself against you, rocking his hips against yours, arm muscles tensing as he held himself up over you.

You whined a little at the feel of him moving against your sensitive clit, making him smile.

“You ready for me, princess?”

You wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, the other reaching for his hand to intertwine your fingers together, “Always, Georgie.”

At your go-ahead, he pressed a kiss to your lips and eased himself into you, making you both moan out. “You feel so good wrapped around me, love,” he praised as he pulled out of you before pushing back in again, “Taking me so well.”

He moved against you, skin brushing against skin, his spare hand moving to touch any place he could, running his fingers down the curves of your body, before biting his lip as he pulled his hand from yours to grab your wrist, taking your other one from around his neck and holding them above your head, making you whimper as his arms flexed.

“Do you like what my hands can do to you, love? How I made you come from nothing but my fingers?” He groaned against you, feeling himself edging towards his own high.

“Yes... yes!” You breathed out, your eyes closing as you felt your high arriving fast, “George you feel so good.”

George groaned again, feeling you clenching around his cock in the same way you did around his fingers. He leant forward to kiss you, still holding your arms above your head and suddenly pleasure coursed through your body, and you sighed against his lips, him twitching and coming inside of you soon after with a deep growl.

He fell against your shoulder, pulling himself out of you before laying beside you, letting go of your wrists as you instinctively curled towards him.

George’s eyes wandered over to you, a smile small playing at his lips, taking in the way your hair was falling across his pillow, your eyes shut as you breathed heavily, eyelashes fanning across your cheeks, your hand resting on one of his biceps.

His gaze travelled across your neck and down to your collarbones, then across your breasts, a smug smile gracing his face. You opened your own eyes, catching his shit-eating grin and raised an eyebrow at him wearily, “What’s that look for?”

“I may or may not have left some... marks,” he replied cheekily, biting his lip, pupils blown wide as he took in the sight of you marked by him, pressed up next to him.

Your jaw dropped a little and you shook your head with a laugh, “Oh bloody hell, Georgie!” You stood up quickly and headed to the mirror across the room to check, fighting the urge to both laugh and smack him when you saw the red and purple marks littering your skin.

George sat back on the bed, eyes raking over your body, enjoying the sight of your bare bum and back, and found himself biting his lip and imagining all the things he wanted to do to you that night. His eyes lingered on the curve of your bum and he fought the urge to grab you again and pull you down onto him.

“I like them on you, they look hot,” George said with a grin, and you playfully glared at him in the mirror.

“You would think that.” Turning back around to him, you just missed the way his gaze flickered to the marks on your breasts and up to your neck, George feeling extremely proud of himself and his work.

“Yeah, it just shows people you’re mine I guess,” he shrugged unapologetically and gave you a smug grin, looking you up and down as you walked back over to him.

“Oh I’m yours, am I?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest and unintentionally accentuating your breasts to him, making him let out a groan as he reached for you.

“Of course you are.”

He pulled you back down onto him like he’d imagined before, your bare chest against his own, his large hands holding your waist as your nails gently scraped down his arms.

“Fancy a round two?” He asked, one of his hands already beginning to head back towards your clit.

Your eyes closed as you sighed contently as you felt his fingers press against you, enjoying the feel of him, “I could be convinced.”

As you were straddling him, you felt him harden more than he was against you, and you opened your eyes to meet his own, darkened with lust, his fingers still moving against you as his other hand gripped your hip.

“Oh princess, how about I make you come for a fourth time tonight? And then again. And then again. And again after that. Would that convince you?”

You bit your lip, pushing yourself against his hand and grinned at him, “I reckon it would. Or maybe I’ll just ride you instead.”

He picked up the pace of his fingers against you, and you let out a moan from above him as one of your own hands covered his on your hip, making him smile cheekily at you,

“Ride me then, darling, and then I’ll make sure you can’t walk in the morning.”

[evening-starlight]

Daddy’s Best Friend

This took two hours to write and it FILTHY lol

All Works Master List

DBF Master List

10

Word Count: 2401

T/W: Smut, protected sex, degradation, honorifics (Pet, Doll, Sir), absolute FILTH, Oral (Male Receiving), cheating, hair pulling, spanking

    Amaris knew this was wrong, coming back to the scene of the crime, but that didn't stop her from knocking on the front door. She hadn't stopped thinking about Tom, about how his lips felt against hers, and how she was curious how the rest of him felt.

    Tom was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door and found Amaris standing there, looking frustrated. "Mari? What's up?" He asks, gesturing for her to come inside. She steps inside, close to Tom.

    "Look, this is embarrassing, but I just want one night with you. I need to get you out of my system if I'm going to have a proper relationship with Armel. That kiss we did was a mistake, but I can't stop thinking about it. So, one more mistake, and we're done, understood?" Amaris rants, shocking Tom at her boldness.

    She was always a bold character, but not this bold. Of course, they shouldn't be talking about this, but the thought of Amaris screaming Tom's name replays in his mind and has been for the last week. Thinking about Amaris's soft lips around him made him harden in his sweats.

    Tom's silence makes Amaris backpedal. "We don't have to. It was stupid to ask. I'll leave, and we can forget I even," She's cut off by Tom's lips on her, shutting her up. They kiss for a second before Tom pulls back.

    "This stays between us, yeah?" Amaris nods frantically, dying to have Tom's lips on hers again. He grants her wish, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. Their lips work together, creating an emotional frenzy between the two. Amaris's guilt subsides when Tom starts kissing down her neck, slowly pushing her back until she hits the wall.

    He settles a knee between her thighs, sucking a spot into her neck. Claiming her as his, at least for the night. Amaris's hands grip Tom's hair, breathing heavily as Tom runs a hand up her shirt, resting on her waist.

    Her skin is soft and smooth to the touch, and Tom can't keep his hands off of her, growing increasingly frustrated with the shirt blocking his assault. "Fucking hell," He mumbles before pulling her shirt off in a haste. Tom stares down at her. Amaris's chest heaves, lifting and dropping her perfectly sculpted breasts that are shielded by a dark red push-up bra. "Did you wear this for me?" Tom asks, palming her over the cup.

    Amaris lets out a pathetic whine, wanting nothing more than Tom to touch her the way she desires. His hands across her body send fire to her heat, growing with every touch. Tom chuckles, snaking an arm around her back while his lips find hers again. He unclips her bra with one hand and uses both to pull it off her shoulders and onto the floor carelessly. Tom's hands find the mounds and massages until he finds her peaked nipples.

    When he tweaks one, Amaris moans loudly into Tom's mouth. His hands make her feel like she's been struck by lightning, amplifying every touch and movement he does. Tom's tongue slips into Amaris's mouth as she continues to moan. She feels like she's on cloud nine, having never felt this horny with anyone before.

    "Bed," Tom huffs, grabbing Amaris's hand and dragging her across the house and to his room topless. He picks her up and tosses her onto the bed, earning a giggle in return. Amaris won't admit it out loud, but she loved being manhandled. "Are you certain this is what you want, Mari?" Tom asks again, anxiety seeping into his mind.

    "Just shut up and fuck me already, Tom," Amaris says, lifting herself onto her elbows. Tom pounces on top of her, causing yet another giggle to escape the girl. The chemicals pumping through her system make her feel dizzy in the best way possible. She has Tom kissing along her body, and it's everything she's ever dreamt of.

    Tom sheds his shirt quickly as Amaris tugs on his, begging him to be as vulnerable as she was. Her mouth goes dry, watching as Tom's abs ripple with a flex as he pulls the shirt entirely off. "Fucking hell," Amaris whispers, reaching up to pet his stomach. Tom chuckles and presses his hand over the top of hers as he leans back down to kiss her.

    Her hands on Tom's skin make the man groan. This is what he's been thinking about for weeks, and it's better than he could have imagined. He settles a knee between Amaris's thighs again, pulling a small moan out of her. "Tom, please do something. I want to feel you, please," Amaris begs, desperate for more of Tom's skin on hers.

    Amaris's pants are pulled down to her knees as soon as she finishes her sentence, on the floor seconds after. Tom stares down at her dark red panties. "They were a matching set," Amaris says, smiling at Tom. "But someone was too impatient to see them together."

    "If I recall correctly, you were the one absolutely begging me to take you, weren't you, Doll?" Amaris whines at the condescending tone Tom uses. His eyes light up at the noise. "Do you enjoy that, pet? Do you enjoy the way I talk to you?" Amaris whines again, not daring to answer when he's exactly right.

    She loved being degraded and belittled, and the fact Tom did it without hesitation makes it even more enjoyable. Tom's hand wraps lightly around Amaris's neck, not enough pressure to be considered choking, but enough to show his dominance. "Use your words, Pet. Or you don't get what you came here for."

    "Yes, sir. I love everything you're doing. You're making me so wet," Amaris says, hoping her honesty will get her something. Tom hums, running his hands over her body, snapping the panty line against her skin. "Please fuck me, Tom," Amaris begs, rutting her hips against Tom's still clothed leg.

    "Patience, pet. I want to enjoy it." Amaris whines in protest at Tom's words. He chuckles and presses his leg against her core harder. Amaris can't help but rut against it, needing some kind of relief from the pressure building inside of her. "Look at you, so fucking desperate for my cock you're willing to fuck yourself against my leg," Tom whispers, bending down to nibble on Amaris's earlobe. His lips find her weak spot, pulling a pornographic moan out of Amaris as he sinks his teeth into the flesh.

    His cock was throbbing in his sweats, begging to be released and fuck inside Amaris, but Tom ignored it the best he could. He wanted to enjoy the only time he'd have Amaris in his bed. Enjoying the moans and whines coming from the girl, Tom continues to leave marks up and down her body, Armel be damned. Amaris was his for the night, and he was going to give her reminders of her betrayal. A betrayal she made just for him.

    When both adults were verging on frustrated, Amaris reaches between the two and cups Tom's cock through his pants. The animalistic groan Tom emits causes Amaris to whine in response. "Fuck, Pet. Rollover," Tom demands, pulling off her and off the bed completely.

    "What? I don't get to see your cock?" Amaris asks, eyes wide and innocent. Tom could see through it. She wasn't as innocent as she let on, even to him. Tom curses, grabbing a fistful of Amaris's hair, guiding her off the bed and onto her knees in front of him. Amaris sits on her knees, eagerly waiting for Tom to pull out his member.

    Amaris knew precisely what she was doing and how to get what she wanted. She wanted Tom to fuck her, yes, but she also wanted to know what it would feel like to have her mouth stuffed with him. And the quickest way to get Tom to do as she wanted to was to suck him off.

    Tom shimmies out of his sweats and undergarments, letting his cock stand full and erect. Amaris can't help but lick her lips before looking at Tom through her eyelashes. "Look at me like that, pet, and you're not going to be able to walk for the next week," Tom threatens, feeling his cock twitch as he looks down at the woman submitting to him fully.

    "Isn't that the point, Sir?" Tom moans lowly at the name that drips from her lips. He didn't think he was a person who would love honorifics so much, but here he was, cock harder than he thought it could get as she calls him 'sir.'

    His cock slowly disappears into Amaris's mouth while she maintains eye contact. She was going to absolutely wreck Tom if it was the last thing she did. Tom moans and rests his hands in her hair as she bottoms out. "Holy fuck, Pet." He breaths out, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Amaris continues to bob her head up and down his cock, watching as his breathing picks up and fists tighten in her locks.

    Tom was in heaven at the moment. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this treatment, but he's thanking every god he could think of while Amaris sucks the life out of him. Her mouth was warm and soft, her tongue swirling around the tip when she comes back up. This was the most perfect blowjob he's had, and he doesn't want it to stop.

    The blow job is cut short when Tom pulls Amaris off, panting as he feels himself being too close to the edge. He wanted to finish inside of Amaris. "Bed. Now." He demands. Amaris stands up and climbs back on the bed slowly, swaying her ass as she does. A loud smack echos through the room as Tom's hand collides with the supple skin of Amaris's rear.

    Amaris moans in response before dropping into doggy position, just as Tom had ordered before. Tom rummages around the bottom drawer of his nightstand before coming out with a condom with a victorious smile.

    The tension between them was deafening as Tom rolls the condom down his shaft before positioning himself behind her. Amaris whines pathetically as Tom teases his head against her clit. "Look at you. Fucking dripping for my cock." Tom says, collecting juice on his cock. "Fucking pathetic," Amaris whines again, pushing against Tom, which earns another spanking. "I decide when you get my cock, Pet."

     Tom continues to run his cock up and down Amaris's slit, saying filthy things that would make a professional pornstar blush. "I want you to fucking beg for me, Pet. Beg for me to fuck you better than anyone has before." Tom barks with a slap on Amaris's ass again.

    "Please, Sir. I want you to break me. I want to feel your cock in me for days after. Please," Amaris's begging is cut short when Tom thrusts his entire length inside her, enticing a loud moan. He stretched and filled her like no one else has, or ever will. His cock fit perfectly inside of her, hitting the right spots in just one movement.

    Amaris clenches around Tom, earning another moan from the man. She wrapped around him like no other has, and he wanted to savor this moment. But his cock begged to differ. Tom starts a slow, rhythmic pace as he fucks into Amaris from behind. The moans leaving her mouth egging him on to go faster.

    As Tom's pace picks up, Amaris starts to lose all earthly grounding. She grips the sheets for some sort of stability but can't get any as Tom rams into her at an ungodly pace. The sounds coming from the room could be heard throughout the neighborhood. Tom's moans push Amaris closer to the edge. He sounded angelic and animalistic at the same time.

    Tom wraps a hand in her hair and pulls Amaris up to her knees, continuing his brutal pace. "Look at you. Moaning for me," He grunts. "Who makes you feel this good?" He asks, using his free hand to wrap around and play with Amaris's clit.

    "You," She moans out, closing her eyes as the pleasure builds inside of her. She's so close she can taste her orgasm.

    "What's my fucking name?" Tom continues, feeling Amaris flutter around him. He knows she's close and wanted to get her over the edge. It isn't until his teeth sink into her neck that she screams out his name as she cums around his cock.

    The slick feeling and fluttering walls push Tom closer to the edge. His thrusts falter as he finishes inside the condom. Tom lets go of Amaris's hair, and she falls onto the bed, panting like a dog who's been left outside all day. Tom flops down beside her, catching his breath before he cleans them both up.

    Amaris is the first to speak. "That was, without a doubt, the best sex I've ever had." Tom laughs at her confession, resting a hand on the back of her sweaty thigh.

    "So why make it a one-time deal?" Tom asks. Amaris shifts her head to look at Tom, a serious expression adorning her fucked-out face.

    "Because I'm still with Armel," She counters. The guilt starts to come back. She shouldn't have slept with Tom, but this was the best she's felt in years after sex. Well, the best she's ever felt after sex.

    "So? Keep him, and when he can't fuck you right, I'll be here," Tom says cockily. He knew this was wrong, but this was hands down one of the best times he's had sex. It was also the fact that Tom didn't want to lose this post-sex feeling. He felt like he could conquer the world in one breath.

    Amaris sighs and moves so she's looking away from Tom again. She wanted to. The sex was amazing. The after-sex feeling had her walking on air. But she was cheating on Armel by fucking Tom behind his back. It's not Amaris's fault that Armel only wanted boring vanilla sex, but it did put a damper on her mood afterward.

    Tom helps Amaris get cleaned up, smiling proudly as her legs shake unsteadily as she stands up. They say nothing more to each other as they get dressed, and Amaris leaves with a thousand thoughts going through her head.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos @kingtwhiddleston​ @cynic-spirit​

[toru-oikawas-milkbread]

Mending Hands

October series: Day 19

Pairing: Issei Matsukawa x f!reader

Prompt/summary: “I just want to fuck away the pain”

Word count: 828

Warnings/contents: Mentions of future sex, mentions of past sex, friends with benefits themes, light pining, fluff

Notes: I saw this prompt and immediately an idea came to mind. I wasn’t originally planning on doing Matsukawa until the 31st because I wanted to end the month with a bang and who doesn’t love this man? However, my IwaOi post is technically going to be the end of the month bang, so I decided to do Matsukawa today because it’s sort of a big day personally and he’s such a near and dear to my heart character that it mixes well. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

<>~<>~<>

Matsukawa was surprised when he opened the door this late hour and saw you, but what had surprised him even more was when you looked at him, there was a single tear sliding down your otherwise perfect looking face. You had on these lashes that looked wet and yet you seemed to refuse to take them off despite ruining them with every tear shed.

“Are you okay?” You hesitated for a moment before ultimately giving your head a soft shake and rubbing your wind chilled arms.

“He cheated on me.” Matsukawa frowned deeply, stepping closer to you and bringing you into a hug. You were quick to wrap your arms around your friend, sniffling against his chest and giving a shaky breath.

“Come inside,” he said, pulling back reluctantly and offering you a hand that you easily took as you followed him inside of his apartment. With another sniffle, you smiled as you looked at the cat that he had while he shut the door, sitting on the sofa beside the animal who nuzzled its head against you. “Alright, now tell me what happened.” He said, sitting on the other side of the sofa with the cat between the two of you; you didn’t meet his eye, instead only petting the cat while you spoke.

“I don’t think I want to open that door quite yet.” You said, barely catching the way that Matsukawa nodded.

“Okay.” He said in case you missed his nod. “What do you want to do?” He asked. “I just finished dinner but I can heat up some food for you if you’re hungry, we can watch a movie, we can just sit here in silence, if you don’t want to be alone tonight you can borrow one of my shirts and sleep in my bed— I’ll sleep on the sofa if it makes you more comfortable.” You nodded softly.

“I’d like to stay.”

“You’re more than welcome. Now… what should we do tonight?” You were hesitant again, almost as if you were afraid to say what you wanted, but before he could make any more suggestions, you finally spoke.

“I just… I want to fuck away the pain.” It had shocked Matsukawa at how casually you’d spoken. Sure, months and months ago the two of you had some sort of friends with benefits type of relationship going on, but it had ended mutually a few months before you got together with your now ex when Matsukawa had a girlfriend who was pretty short-term. He had wished ever since she broke up with him right after you got with your ex that he hadn’t dated her and instead had gotten one last night in bed with you, however he was anything but a home-wrecker and you had seemed happy. Who was he to tell you that he possibly liked you as more than a bedroom experience?

“Okay.” He said softly, almost beneath his breath. Quickly clearing his throat, he scooted closer, moving the cat onto his lap and catching your attention as he sat on the middle cushion. “I’ll do anything that’ll make you feel better. Hell, I’ll lay between your legs for hours if that’s what you want.” Gently, you reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand, something that made his breath hitch in his throat.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He blinked, convinced that he was hearing things and he needed to get more sleep.

“What?”

“Will you get dinner with me some night this week? A date.” You said again, making the mans cheeks warm beneath your touch. “I think… I think I might feel something for you. I promise this isn’t some rebound thing, I felt this same way a few months ago when you got a girlfriend for, what, a couple weeks?” Matsukawa gave a soft chuckle, setting the cat aside and leaning in to kiss you, something that you were quick to return.

“I think I might feel something for you, too.” Shocking the man, you smiled and pushed your lips back to his, slowly pulling him down on the sofa with you as you ran your hand up into his curly hair.

“How about you show me tonight and on the date what you think you feel towards me.” A soft smirk curled onto the corner of Matsukawa’s mouth as he seemed to immediately harden at your words, kissing you again and moving on top of you until his erection was comfortably pressed to your thigh. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck and earning a soft and content sounding sigh from you as you laid your head back on the sofa. “I don’t want to cry anymore, Issei.” You whispered suddenly. He pressed one more kiss to your neck before he pushed himself up to meet your eyes.

“The only reason I’ll ever make you cry is because you’re laughing too hard or feeling too good.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[tossawary]

2,500 words of the Moshang Forced Marriage AU, in which the PIDW plot is turned off and Tianlang-Jun doesn’t fall, but this only causes even more problems for Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua. Written on my phone. 

- 

Shang Qinghua stumbled back into his leisure house with a jar of Zui Xian Peak’s best light wine in one hand and a sack of Qian Cao Peak’s tastiest specialty melon seeds in the other. He kicked the door closed, kicked off his shoes, and then kicked back for some quality lounging. 

   “Ahhh, now this is more like it!” he declared, wiggling into the cushions worthy of a head disciple’s house. “It’s all shoving off my chores onto other people from here on out! Having flatcakes on order with a snap of my fingers! Making some other poor bastard deal with Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge - at each other’s throats even at Yue-Shixiong’s nice dinner to celebrate our future ascension, eugh. I’ve really earned this! I’ve suffered enough!” 

   He dropped the sack of seeds onto the side table and fiddled with the wine, embarrassingly clumsy despite the fact that he was sober. As always, he’d been much too chicken-shit to really indulge around other people. He needed his fast reflexes for ducking and running away when he was out and about! Plus, people would freak the fuck out if a transmigrator started running his mouth, giving everyone existential issues and shit, so him waiting until he was alone to drink was really more of a societal service here than sad. 

   The Transmigration System had also been a concern before, but not anymore! 

   Shang Qinghua raised his jar and laughingly declared, “The plot is dead! Long live the free author! Ah, this toast is a little late, but better late than never, huh?” 

   At long last, this transmigrator had managed to get into the Transmigration System’s settings and turn off the plot! It had honestly been a little infuriating just how easy it had been, once he’d hit on the right combination of things to open the right settings menu. There may or may not have been a lot of outraged shrieking and frustrated crying, after all the sweat, blood, and tears he’d shed to become the head disciple of An Ding Peak. All Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had needed to do, in the end, was flick a few buttons from “on” to “off”. Outrageous. 

   “No more missions! No more restrictions! And no more bad endings for anyone! Ah, at least for everyone besides Huan Hua Palace Sect’s old master, that is… but, heh heh, I really think that I and the new Empress Su Xiyan can live with that,” Shang Qinghua muttered, then took a drink, wiggling deeper into his lounging and feeling very good about himself. 

   He felt as free as a bird! As free as the wind! Why shouldn't he celebrate his newfound freedom and future as a Cang Qiong Peak Lord by doing a little bit of nothing at all? 

  Shang Qinghua shamelessly did his best to become a lump. As he toasted to the distant happy couple and the bouncy baby protagonist on his way, with wine and melon seeds both, he removed all but one layer of clothing, tossed his belt and his jewelry on top of the pile, and yanked everything out of his hair. He slid from a sitting position to a totally horizontal one without realizing how it had happened, then he let heavy eyes fall closed with the knowledge that everything was going to be so much better now. 

   A person knew things were good when they could fall asleep just like this. 

   Then a burst of cold air startled him into looking up at a shadowy figure stepping out of nowhere above him. Shang Qinghua shrieked with terror. 

   "SHUT UP!” the shadow snarled. “Get up!” 

   “What- my king?!” 

   Mobei-Jun didn’t wait and grabbed Shang Qinghua by the front of his robes, hauling him to his feet. The wine sloshed against the floor and the melon seeds scattered around them. Shang Qinghua yelped, choked, and then wheezed and flailed, and then yelped again as his loose robes got a little looser with the rough handling and he slipped in Mobei-Jun's grip. 

   "What- get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped, and then dragged him into the bedroom right away. 

   "The sight of my naked chest offends you this much, bro?!" Shang Qinghua thought, stumbling along. "There's not enough room in this house for two tits-out outfits?! What the fuck is going on?!" 

   Mobei-Jun threw Shang Qinghua towards the dresser. He just barely managed to catch himself, taking a hard wooden edge to the gut and stubbing his toe on its base, instead of falling and concussing himself at least. Shit! It still hurt, though! 

   "Get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped again, pointing at the dresser for emphasis. "Now!" 

   "Right away! Right away, my king!" With shaking hands, his heart thundering in his ears, Shang Qinghua pulled out the first set of robes his fingers touched. 

   "Not those!" 

   "Aah!" 

   Shang Qinghua dropped the robes onto the floor. They were the regular everyday robes of an An Ding Peak disciple, plain and sturdy, something that the demon had seen him in many times before. 

   "Wh- what's wrong with th-these?" 

   "Too plain!" Mobei-Jun barked, and stalked forward to shove Shang Qinghua aside and go through the dresser himself. 

   Shang Qinghua stumbled away and took shelter near his bed, quickly retying his current robes to prevent another fucking nip-slip or worse. He watched with wide eyes as Mobei-Jun threw his clothing to the floor as not good enough. The next drawer was yanked open with so much strength that it splintered and tilted crookedly to one side. 

   "My king, why-?! What's happening?! Are- are we going somewhere?! Who does this servant have to impress?!" 

   Mobei-Jun finished throwing aside everything in this drawer and tried to shove it back in, but it was too broken to be moved. The demon snarled, yanked the entire drawer from the dresser with another terrible splintering sound, and threw the drawer out of his way. It hit Shang Qinghua in the chest and sent him sprawling back onto his bed. 

   He lay there and wheezed without shoving it away, just feeling the impact rattle through his ribs. He heard another drawer splinter. 

   "Ah, so this is how I die?" he thought. "Just as expected: with a bang AND a whimper." 

   He pushed the drawer to one side and sat up, only to be smacked in the face with the robes thrown at him. They were the nicest robes he owned. The An Ding Peak Lord had ordered them for him for the coming ascension of a new generation of Peak Lords, so they had all sorts of fancy embroidery and several heavy layers, which meant Shang Qinghua fell back against the bed again under their weight when they hit his head. He sat up again and then gawked at these robes he had never worn and wasn't supposed to wear yet- 

   "Tianlang-Jun." 

   "Aha, what?" Shang Qinghua looked at the demon lord scowling at him. "My king…? What about Tianlang-Jun…? This- no. What?! My king, you can't mean to take this servant before the Demon Emperor, that would be ridic-" 

   "Get dressed," Mobei-Jun snapped. 

   "It's not Tianlang-Jun, right? Why-?! What's really going on here? Are we going somewhere? Are we meeting someone?" 

   Shang Qinghua got to his feet, but he didn't dare put the fancy robes on, like being nearly naked would save him from being dragged off anywhere else. No amount of nice clothing would ever make the likes of this displaced author impressive to the likes of the OP Demon Emperor, finally sitting on his late sister's throne. 

   "This servant can't serve his king to the best of his abilities unless he knows what the-" 

   "My father is dead!" 

   “...Wh… what?” 

   Mobei-Jun’s expression was like a thunderstorm. Shadows curled around his clenched fists, as light and heat fled this room that was suddenly even smaller than Shang Qinghua remembered it being. 

   "My father…" Mobei-Jun repeated, slowly, daring Shang Qinghua not to understand a second time. "...is dead." 

   Shang Qinghua stared in horror, the robes slipping out of his hands, which itched to count all the years that had just been skipped even though he knew he didn't have enough fingers. Thirty years or so? Definitely more than twenty. His breath came out in a trembling fog as he demanded: 

   "H-how?!" 

   "Tianlang-Jun," Mobei-Jun said again, through gritted teeth. 

   Good point! Good point! Who the fuck else could it be? The real question was why the fuck?! And also what the fuck was Shang Qinghua of all people supposed to do about clashes between OP demon lords?! 

   Mobei-Jun advances on Shang Qinghua, the shadows in his fists writhing like he's strangling them. "Tianlang-Jun took offense to some of my clan's foolish disrespect towards his human Empress and he made an example of my father. He has threatened to destroy the body unless a suitable gesture is made." 

   "But… the power of your ancestors…" 

   Mobei-Jun, looming over him, shoved him down to his knees to pick up the robes he had dropped, and snarled: "Get dressed." 

   Shang Qinghua snatched up the robes and skittered away to dress himself up for the slaughter. His heart was racing fast, but his mind seemed to be going even faster, almost too fast to actually think and also do things like make sure clothes weren't inside-out as he put them on. 

   The power of the Mobei clan rested in the ascension ritual in which the new king "consumed" the body of the old king. Spiritually and… er… possibly also physically? Shang Qinghua had no idea if the System had picked up on those implications or not. Anyway, if Mobei-Jun's father's body was destroyed, then he wouldn't receive that power-up necessary to enforce his rule, which would make him the target of every ambitious cousin and every greedy neighbor. The Mobei clan would probably fall into civil war and the rest of the northern kingdoms would follow them into bloody battle. 

   Shang Qinghua's favorite character, currently glaring at him for the fancy clothes probably making him look even less fancy by comparison, was sure to die. Mobei-Jun's shitty uncle had probably already picked the poisoned knife with which to stab him in the back. 

    "My king… what… what gesture is being made here…? This servant… this servant really needs to know how he's supposed to be of service…" 

   Shang Qinghua also needed to know whether or not he needed to take the first available window to run away. He definitely wasn't above leaping out of literal windows. If Mobei-Jun intended on hanging him over to Tianlang-Jun as a human sacrifice or some shit, then promises of loyalty might expire a lot sooner than originally planned! 

   At the question, Mobei-Jun's expression only darkened and the room darkened again with it. The cold seemed to spread from Shang Qinghua's skin deep into his twisting chest.

   "Marriage," Mobei-Jun said, again through gritted teeth. "Tianlang-Jun has suggested marriage to a human as a worthy gesture." 

   "M-marriage?" 

   Mobei-Jun looked so fucking murderous that Shang Qinghua knew he hadn't misheard. He had to have misheard, though, because this was absurd. 

   "Marriage betw-between me and- and…?" 

   "Yes." 

   "And… you?" 

   "Yes." 

   Shang Qinghua should have been given an award for not fainting dead away. The System should have given him a million points for every second he managed to stay conscious, except… the System had essentially been turned off. No more points. No more plot. 

   No more Proud Immortal Demon Way plot, at least. 

   Ah, was this some kind of warped vacuum effect? A new plot come to take its place? 

   "There will be great riches." 

   Shang Qinghua refocused on the demon glaring at him. Riches?! What the fuck did riches have to do with anything right now?! 

   "Mobei Clan is the second strongest in the Demon Realm," Mobei-Jun informed him, but the demon was kind of scowling like he resented this now, instead of bragging. "You would not have to work again." 

   It was a really fucking weird day when being told that his Dream Guy wanted him and that he'd never had to work again was somehow bad news. It almost sounded like Mobei-Jun was… was… trying to persuade Shang Qinghua to marry him by offering wealth, power, and a life of indolence. All things that would tempt most people! Especially blindly greedy, thigh-hugging sect traitors like his character! 

   "Did… did Tianlang-Jun tell you… to just pick any human?" Shang Qinghua asked faintly. "There weren't… there weren't any requirements…?" 

   Clearly Mobei-Jun didn't want to be tied to Shang Qinghua of all humans! 

   "He asked - laughingly - if none of us knew any humans. I said that I did." 

   Okay, Shang Qinghua fully believed that Mobei-Jun didn't know any other humans. Mobei-Jun was on a deadline and didn't have time to go find the most acclaimed matchmaker or anything. By default, Shang Qinghua was the best, most handsome, most skillful, most wellborn, most desirable, and altogether most marriageable human Mobei-Jun knew - and he was not feeling super fucking thrilled by this victory. 

   "What… what did my king say about me..? What is the Demon Emperor expecting?" Shang Qinghua could only hope expectations had been set on the floor, preferably into the floor or maybe even underground. 

   "A disciple of Cang Qiong in my service." 

   "Oh…" 

   "Fix your robes." 

   "What? Oh, shit. Right away!" 

   Shang Qinghua didn't have a lot of experience wearing robes this nice and Mobei-Jun barking at him to look less like shit wasn't helping. The fact that he was sweating from nerves and his fingers were still shaking a little also wasn't helping. He skittered around to add tasteful ornaments and jewelry, some of which got violently rejected by Mobei-Jun as too ugly to show anyone, but looking down at himself, he mostly just felt like he was throwing shiny gold onto a pile of crap. How could this really fool anyone?  

   "My king, what… what am I supposed to say to the Demon Emperor? Do you want me to lie? To the Demon Emperor?!" 

   "Do not speak unless spoken to." 

   Sure, Shang Qinghua could do that, but was he really supposed to leave the talking to Mobei-Jun?! To Mobei-Jun?! The protagonist's right-hand man had not been known for his silver tongue! Did he think people weren't going to have questions? Like, "How the fuck do you know some random human?" Or, "Holy shit, you're really going to marry THAT one?" 

   "Isn't… my king, isn't Tianlang-Jun well known for his interest in humans and human stories… though...?" 

   Love stories! Shang Qinghua was pretty sure that the man loved a good love story! How the fuck were he and Mobei-Jun supposed to pull off a love story? And make it a love story compelling enough to convince a pissed-off Tianlang-Jun to grant the Mobei Clan mercy? Shang Qinghua wasn’t totally sure he was going to be able to do anything besides break down sobbing and curl up into a pathetic ball on the floor. 

   Mobei-Jun's face twisted slightly, in the way of an angry demon who didn't want to admit that his lowly human servant actually had a super great point. Tianlang-Jun had already proven himself a man who liked to play with his food a little. 

   "Do not tell some story," Mobei-Jun snarled finally. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not lie." 

   "Of course! Of course! Very wise not to lie to him!” Shang Qinghua told himself to focus on the logistics here; he was the logistics man; it was what he did. If he just kept focusing on the details, he didn’t have to think about the bigger picture. “This servant will remain silent until called upon, which… when… my king, when will that be? Tomorrow morning? I have to tell-" 

   "Now." 

  "-my martial sib- what?!" 

   "Now," Mobei-Jun repeated. "He is waiting." 

[insomniacrobyn]

Title: Qingxin (Xiao x Reader)

A/N: So this is pure angst. I wanted to write something sad as it always seems to get me out of a writing slump. If you have any suggestions for some more angst for a character from Genshin my inbox is always open to suggestions. Anything in italic is a flashback.

~~~~~~~~

Golden leaves flew in the air. The scent of qingxin flowers engulfed his senses. They were your favourite. For a long time when Xiao used to see them his mind would wander to you. He could never escape the flowers and now he wishes he could. All they brought now were memories of a lost lover.

He huffed his eyes looking in the direction of the pass. You had both found this one day will wondering the foothills and mountains of Liyue. You called it your sanctuary. Xiao and you would spend hours sitting under the big sandbearer tree. Your head rested in his lap as you rambled on about your adventures and what was happening in the city.

It is meant to be quite difficult to break a habit. Xiao never believe that until he found himself wandering here any time his karmic debt became too much. His trip would either clear his mind and free him from his debt or it would remind him of the day he lost you.

Xiao emerged from the pass. His golden eyes were drawn to the large sandbearer tree searching for you. Instead of relief or joy at seeing you, the feeling of grief that gripped Xiao was enough to make an Archon fall to their knees. It was the same sick suffocating feeling he felt every time he watched another Yakasha fall to their karmic debt.

Crystal flies fluttered around the tree. Qingxin flowers grew in small patches normally dotting the green grass with beautiful bursts of white. However, they no longer reflected the light but the darkness. Some flowers clung onto their white as much as they could. A jacket fluttered in the wind caught in one of the lower branches. Its pattern is dirty and torn, ruined. A pattern Xiao could spend hours tracing absentmindedly. Committing it to memory.

A million voices were screaming in his head but one stuck out the most. It was the loudest tainted with remorse and self-loathing. “You should have gone to them.” Slow uncertain feet moved Xiao towards the tree. They could hold their ground. They were strong, what changed this time. The metallic smell of blood filled his senses the closer and closer he got.

He let his weapon fall from his grasp. The adeptul amulet he had given them still hung around their neck. It was clean as if to mock him of his shortcomings. The proof of his promise, to protect you and come to your side the moment his name escaped your lips. He was the one to shed blood, to stain his hands so yours could stay pure.

He knelt beside you, a shaky hand touching your cheek. Your eyes were closed, you looked tranquil. His hand moved from your cheek to your neck looking for the pulse point he knew well. The one he would kiss to say his hellos and see you soon. He couldn’t find anything.

Xiao closed his eyes, leaning forward so that his forehead rested against yours. Tears slipped from his eyes in streams as he sat there. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come,” Xiao whispered. He placed a kiss on your forehead. He clutched your hand and leaned back on his heels.

To this day Xiao can’t tell you how long he sat there mourning you. He made sure you could rest somewhere you loved. He buried you that same day under a younger sandbearer tree, planting a few qingxin flowers under it for you. An ode to someone he once loved. No he will always love.

Now his little paradise is visited by many people once they found it. Young couples come and go having picnics and basking in the light. Older married couples hobbling would sit and watch the sky together. Xiao would watch them and be envious. Reminiscing about when he was like them. But he knows you’re there he feels you by his side when the breeze picks up and moves golden leaves. He can feel you standing next to him as he gets up to leave. A whispered goodbye in the breeze as he returns to the inn.

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 22

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Finally, it’s time for everything to come to an end. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of abuse, violence, gore, blood and death. There is weapon use in this chapter.  

The door opened, letting the light shine in again. You didn’t even bother lifting your head. Everything in your body ached. How long have you been here? You weren’t really sure anymore. 

“Breakfast.” The sound of the tray being placed down. 

“Not hungry...” You mumbled, pressing your cheek against your arm as you looked to the side. Then you felt a light nudge against your ankle. That made you lift your head slightly. Instead of sitting at his usual corner, he was sitting opposite you, the tray between you. 

“Eat.” He said. 

“I’m not hungry right now.” 

“Why?” You didn’t even reply to that. You let out a yawn, followed by a sigh. The tray was pushed against your leg again. 

“You’ll need the energy.” He said, undoing the binds around your wrists. You didn’t really understand what he meant but you also didn’t really have the mood to banter today. 

“Eat.” He repeated. When he was done, he stood up straight and headed back to his same spot to sit. You gave him a look, pushing the food around the tray. 

“Thanks...” You murmured and took your first bite. Unlike your other meal chats, you were silent, taking small bites of your food here and there. 

“I’m done.” You pushed the tray away. More than half the tray of food was left. The tray was picked up, followed by retreating footsteps and the door closing. You stared at the wall until you realised. 

He didn’t bind your hands back. 

“What...?” You looked around to see if there was someone else in the room. This wasn’t a trap. You scrambled around until you saw, under the water bottle left behind, a key was hidden.

“Please, please.” You chanted, jamming the key into the keyhole on the ankle brace. When the lock shifted, you almost cried out in relief. 

“Where’s the exit?” You bunched up your skirt, trying your best to tie it together so it wouldn’t hinder you when you run. The first thing you did was press your ear to the door to hear for footsteps. There were no sounds outside but you still poked your head out to look first. The coast was clear so you made a break for it, running down the hallways. 

“Come on.” You panted, trying to find the exit but this place seemed like a maze. You guessed that you were probably in some warehouse, judging by the sheet metal walls and concrete floors. 

“She’s gone!” 

“Find the girl!” 

“This way!” You heard shouts behind you and quickened your pace. But all the hallways looked the same. You just kept running, hoping to find an open door or exit soon. 

“Aish!” Someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you to hide behind another wall. You pressed your back against the wall, seeing two guys run past you. 

“Why are you still here?” The male beside you panted. 

“I couldn’t find the exit. This place is a freaking maze.” You said through gritted teeth. He shook his head. As you were opening your mouth to speak again, he hushed you, taking his pistol out of his holster. 

“Take this.” 

“Are you crazy?! I can’t shoot a gun.” 

“I’m not asking you to go crazy and start shooting up the place. Just use it to get away if you need to. Pull this back, aim and shoot. I’ll buy you some time. The exit is down this hallway, make a right. Now go!” He shoved you in the direction of said exit. You turned to look back. 

“What about you?” You panicked. 

“Just go! I’m buying you time. And I have an extra.” He waved his spare pistol in the air. Even if you wanted your freedom, you were still hesitant. 

“Go and don’t look back.” He said before separating from you. You continued running, shaky hands holding onto the gun by your side. Finally, at the end of the hallway, you saw the door. 

“Please.” When the knob turned, your heart soared. Was this really the thing separating you from your freedom now? 

“Where do you think you’re going?” One of the men stood on the other side of the door. You didn’t have a choice, you lifted the gun. The male took a weary step back. 

“Just let me go. And I won’t shoot.” You threatened. 

“Well...” You saw his hands moving to reach for his weapon. On instinct you clicked the gun and shot his shoulder. He cried out in shock as he went down. 

“Move again and you’re dead.” You held the gun over him as you clicked it into place again. But your victory was short lived when you felt an arm wrap around your neck. You would have thrashed around or try to hit him but you felt the coolness of a blade press against your neck, right where you jugular was. That made you immobile. 

“Drop the gun.” He said into your ear. You were defeated, dropping the weapon onto the ground. 

“Walk.” He pulled you backwards and you followed, your feet shuffling backwards. You watched with longing eyes as the door got further and further. Just like that, whatever light you saw slowly disappeared. 

“Tell boss I found the girl.” He told another person before throwing you back into that room. 

“Oh doctor, you just had to try and escape. That’s cute.” The boss said, circling around you. You panted, lifting your head to shoot him a glare. 

“You even shot one of my men. I’m impressed.” He clapped. 

“But because of you...” The boss waved for the other men to bring in the male who helped you escape. He had been roughed up for sure, his eye was bruised and parts of his face swollen up. 

“Take it out on me. Leave him out of this.” You growled. 

“Aww, isn’t that cute? Both of you fighting to play the hero. But unfortunately, this is a matter of betrayal.” The boss kicked him, making the already injured male groan in pain. He managed to peep open his eyes to make eye contact with you. 

“But first, tell me, boy. Why betray your family? Don’t tell me you have fallen for her charm like those stupid Bangtan boys.” He threw his head back in laughter. 

“Family?” He scoffed but coughed right after, spewing out blood. 

“I took you in, took care of you and provided for you. This is how you repay me?” He began to rain more punches and kicks on the boy, making him wince and moan in more pain. 

“Stop it!” You shouted. 

“Don’t worry, doc. I promise, after this, it’s your turn.” He laughed. That was when he took his gun out, the other men that watched lifted the boy up for their boss to press the barrel of the gun right against his forehead. Your heart sank. This boy didn’t deserve to die for helping you. Now you regretted everything that you ever said to him. 

“Any final words?” The boss asked. 

“It’s all my fault, I never should have...” You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“It’s not your fault... It was me, holding onto the last bit of my independence.” He smiled before a deafening bang sounded through the room. Blood spattered out from the back of his head and onto the wall, the bullet having gone right through. 

“Hasn’t there been one time where you felt that you could never do anything for yourself? Then when you’re given that bit of independence, to finally do something for yourself, that’s all you want to hold onto?”

Those were your words. 

“That was touching.” The boss wiped a fake tear. The body fell forward, a small blood pool forming under his head. You wanted to throw up. 

“Now, as for you, doctor.” The boss turned to you. 

“Just shoot me.” You dared, done with all this. Maybe death was really the better option now.

“Tempting but no can do. I need you here for the final show. And our main guests aren’t even here yet. But don’t worry, you won’t wait too long. I think they’ll be here very soon.” The boss smiled. 

“Rough her up before they come.” The boss told him men before leaving.

“Finally. Payback. After what Jungkook did to me back then.” The petty male landed the first punch, followed by kicks. Usually, you were try to cocoon yourself to protect yourself but you just couldn’t take your eyes off the bleeding body before you. His eyes were still open, staring at you. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to him as you cried silently. 

-

“Remember our priority. Get (y/n) out of there. Then we kill the boss.” Namjoon reminded. The 6 boys nodded their heads. They were getting close to finding you and bringing you home. 

“Whoever finds (y/n) first, just take her to one of the cars and get her to the nearest hospital. The rest of us will handle the boss.” Jin said. 

“Let’s go.” They all ran towards the big warehouse. With every other possible hideouts having been search and burnt, this was the only place left. When the men saw them, they immediately got into position, their boss having told them prior to expect the 7. But all the boys saw was red. Bullets were shot and blades were swung. 

“Ugh!” Jimin went down as he was attacked by two men but Taehyung swung his bat, hitting one straight in the head while Jimin drove his sword into the other’s abdomen. 

“Thanks.” Jimin nodded to Taehyung, running forward and jumping to hide slash as a few men. Jungkook tackled some men to the ground.

“We’re wasting time.” Hoseok grunted as he shot someone. Jin used the handle of his gun to knock some guys out. 

“Split up!” Yoongi shouted and they all went their separate directions. 

“Watch my back.” Yoongi said to Hoseok and Jimin as he checked the rooms. They were all empty, except for some storage items. Namjoon and Jin opened a room, where more men of the gang were. That led to more wasted time trying to fight them off. Taehyung and Jungkook moved together. 

“Damn our luck. I hope the others were better than us.” Jin laughed sarcastically as Namjoon punched some men. He reloaded his guns and shot at whoever tried to come at them. 

“Jungkook! Get down!” Taehyung pulled the maknae down. Although they wanted to fight, they had to save energy and ammo. 

“Find them! They’re somewhere around here.” A group of men ran past them. 

BEEP BEEP

“Yoongi hyung’s team found the boss.” Jungkook said as he checked his pager. Once the coast was clear, they moved to the location that was sent to them. The 7 of them met up again. 

“He's in there. I heard the men talking.” Jimin informed. With that, Jungkook backed away slightly before kicking the door down and running in. The boys all stood there, blood staining their clothes. They could feel it, the end of everything was nearing. As they came face to face with their enemy, the one who took you. 

“Welcome.” He smirked from his comfortable spot on the couch. 

“Where is she?!” Jimin pointed his katana at him, the blade merely a few inches from his face. 

“Ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He taunted, waving his hand. That was when you were brought in, kneeling in front of the couch. Your dress was dirtied and you were beaten up, bruises and cuts littering your face and limbs. 

“(y/n)...” Jungkook called out softly. Your eyes were lidded as you swayed dangerously. You were losing consciousness, fast. It was obvious from the dried blood trail on your temple. Even when a pistol was pressed to the back of your head in a threatening manner, you didn’t flinch. The boys took a step forward. 

“One more step...” The boss threatened and the male that held the pistol clicked the gun into place. 

“What do you want?” Namjoon growled. 

“Oh, how great man fall. All for a single woman. Honestly, I couldn’t believe my ears when I was told that the dangerous Bangtan had fallen for a girl, some doctor. That was until I saw it for myself.” He started.

“I wanted to know just what about her was able to bring the 7 of you to your knees. Then, I met her.” He turned to you. 

“I can see why you all adore her.” Using his finger, he lifted your chin. There were a few growls and fist clenches. He side eyed the boys, liking the reaction that he was getting out of them. 

They hated it. They hated the fact that you were right in front of them and yet, they couldn’t save you if they wanted you alive. They hated that they were the reason that you were in this position. You weren’t supposed to be here, you were supposed to be well protected in their house, there to heal them when they got hurt.

“I’ll ask again. What is it you want?” Namjoon asked through gritted teeth. They were all resisting the urge to shoot the man in front of them. 

“The Bangtan empire. You all don’t deserve what you have. You don’t have what it takes to run such an empire when you’re so weak for a mere woman.” The boss said in frustration. 

“That’s it? You want money? Our companies?” Yoongi glared. 

“Sure.” The boss shrugged. The boys were suspicious. There was no way this man went through all this trouble just for their empire. 

“Take it.” Jin said. 

“Also, I might keep the doctor with me. She’s fun to have around. Her skills and feisty attitude would be a great addition to my gang.” He smirked. This man was just playing them now. 

“Over my dead body.” Taehyung sneered. Whatever it is, they were going to make sure that you went home with them today. Alive. 

“Looks like we have a problem then.” The boss grinned. 

“Take one step closer.” Hoseok threatened the few men he saw slowly getting closer. It was obvious that they were waiting for the boys to put their guard down attacking them. 

“I changed my mind, I don’t just want your empire.” The boss shrugged. That had been the goal all along. He wanted to make sure that Bangtan is ended here, permanently. And that he would be the one to end them. Namjoon’s eyes followed the movements of the boss. 

“Unfortunately, you don’t have the upper hand. Unless you want to say goodbye to the doctor.” He smirked at Namjoon. 

“Drop your weapons. Go on.” He commanded. One by one, the boys dropped their weapons. With another wave of the hand, the men moved in on them. The boys grit their teeth, fighting to urge to fight back as they were hit. 

“See? Weak.” The boss scoffed. 

BANG! 

The boys froze, turning around. Everyone else stopped. That was when they saw the man, who was holding the gun to your head, on the ground, dead. You stood shakily, holding the pistol in your hand as you aimed directly at the boss. 

“Next time... remove the dead guy’s extra gun before you leave his body...” You smirked. The boss turned to you.

“Tell them to move back.” You demanded. 

“You wouldn’t dare...” He taunted. You clicked the gun, showing that you weren’t joking. Oh, how to tables have turned. If you managed to shoot the other guy already, you didn’t have a problem killing the boss too. Remembering the boy’s fallen body, it only made you angrier. Sensing your threat wasn’t empty, the boss nodded for his men to fall back. 

“(y/n)...” Jin called out softly. 

“A life for a life.” You pulled the trigger, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you collapsed. Luckily, Jungkook was quick to run over and catch you before you could hit the ground.  

“You did well, leave the rest of us.” He whispered. Your shot didn’t kill the boss, only managing to hit him in the thigh. 

“Get her out of here.” Yoongi said to the maknae. He nodded, running out of the place with you in his arms. 

With their boss down and most likely going to die, the other men just surrendered, putting their hands up. The 6 remaining Bangtan boys stood over the boss, who was writhing on the ground in pain. 

“Tell your girl... The boy that was killed because of her... His name is also Jisung... Just like her dear nephew.” He still managed to force out a laugh. 

“You want our money?” Jin gave the first kick. 

“You want our empire?” Namjoon gave the second. 

“You mess with our girl?” Jimin stepped on his thigh, pushing the bullet further into his flesh. He screamed out, straining. 

“We’ll see you in hell.” Taehyung raised his metal bat, slamming it down. They just watched emotionlessly as Taehyung beat the man’s face in. He coughed, choking on his blood as he tried to crawl away. 

“Where are you going?” Hoseok kicked him back. Imaging all the torture and abuse you went through fuelled their anger. The others killed the other men. 

No one was to be spared. 

“We have to go before the cops come.” Namjoon stopped Taehyung. Taehyung took a step back with a smirk, rubbing away the blood that managed to splatter on his cheek. Yoongi took the gun out that he had brought for good measure. He placed the barrel of the gun right over the man’s chest, clicking it back slowly. With a smile, he pulled the trigger. 

“For good measure.” Jin shrugged with a smile and shot two more bullets. 

“That’s enough. Let’s go. We have more important things to do.” Namjoon waved the gang over. Right now, they should prioritise your condition. Same as always, Yoongi grabbed a lighter, torching the place down. 

“Don’t forget to send a gift to the governor to thank him for putting out all the fires.” Hoseok laughed. Namjoon hummed. 

~~

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[maraudersftw]

Claudia — this prompt!!!!!!! 💕✨

1. Two characters haven’t seen each other for a while, one keeps rambling about something insignificant and the other one kisses them because “Shut up you’re rambling just kiss me.”

Omg, M, so excited to receive this from you! 😂💜 And I had a blast writing it, so obviously it got long (1.5k words). Thanks for the prompt. Hope you enjoy!

Glittering Darkness

The Butterbeer is a slide of warm froth down his throat, easing up frozen insides brought on by the biting January cold. He smiles, grin stupid on face, hazel eyes bright behind glasses, and listens to Sirius yammer on about Quidditch and teams and players—

“The Canons don’t stand a fucking chance this season, mate,” Sirius repeats for the thousandth time that week, to the audience of Remus’s rolling eyes, Peter’s enraptured gaze and James’s dazed attention. “I have my bet on the Arrows. I mean, have you seen Crossby’s performance lately? Not missed a single bloody snitch so far in. That’s gotta be some kind of record, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Oi, Prongs!” he snaps, brows instantly furrowed at not receiving James’s immediate response, no matter that Peter’s vehement nodding probably dislodges the boy’s neck. “Someone throw a Confundus at you? That’s a dumb expression on your face, if I’ve seen one.”

James sighs, leans back, embraces the lovely chatter of his peers around The Three Broomsticks. “I’m just having a good day.”

The boys are instantly suspicious, each choosing to express such emotion with a varying degree of subtlety.

“How come?” Sirius asks, sounding almost put off at not being privy to the answer already.

“Well, I get to spend such a lovely afternoon with you lads. What more could I want?”

“To get laid,” says Sirius, a phrase that is followed immediately by Peter’s loud snort of laughter.

“By a very specific person,” Remus can’t help but add, amusement quirking his mouth in that typical way of his.

“Nonsense,” he waves off, another gulp of Butterbeer tossed back. “I’m perfectly content.”

“Okay, I take it back. It has to be a cheering charm,” Sirius ponders solemnly, just as a group of familiar Gryffindors enters The Three Broomsticks, huddling together as they brush off snow from thick robes and gloves.

Such a sight is by no means a rarity, given that the pub has already been crawling with Hogwarts students since the start of day. But James’s eyes are quick to lock onto a very specific person, a flash of red hair, pink cheeks, bright, bright laughter. No one around him seems to notice the tectonic plates shifting under their feet, nor the way that colour splashes, vibrant and sudden, painting the world afresh. No, they carry on with their conversations and snark as if air hasn’t suddenly become easier to draw in, as if her mere presence hasn’t literally lit up the room. He supposes, after a second of reflection, that she’s indeed his personal cheering charm.

Lily nods to the girls—Mary, Dorcas, Marlene—and points to a booth somewhere at the back. He can’t be arsed to check the exact location; not when it means taking his eyes off a much better alternative. But instead of moving away with them as they take their seats, Lily, curiously enough, breaks off from the group, face blank, easy grace and gait as she meanders off to the loo. Her eyes don’t travel to him, not once.

And yet, James spots that minuscule quirk of lips right before she disappears from view.

Oh.

Very well then.

He’s instantly on his feet, wooden chair scraping back with a loud groan, cutting off Remus mid-speculation as to the reason behind James’s jolly disposition. Three heads turn to him; curious, amused, perhaps even a little concerned.

“Um, you okay, mate?”

“Brilliant,” James replies, feels a thrum of excitement shiver through him, and wonders if it’s openly visible. “Perfectly brilliant. I just need to take a leak.”

“Well, alright, Mr Potter, you’re excused.” Remus laughs.

He takes the time to roll his eyes, but not the effort to dim his smile. It’s probable he looks like a complete loon on a sugar rush, but James truly has never cared about anything less. “Yeah, yeah, have your chuckles, Mr Moony. We’ll see who’s laughing by the end of the day.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you mean, and you sound completely unthreatening with that ridiculous beaming going on.”

James scoffs, walks away from another bout of laughter. “Fuck off.”

The hallway leading to the loos remains mercifully empty; luck that he doesn’t take for granted thanks to the crowd spilling inside the pub. With a quick manoeuvre honed over years of efficient marauding, he pulls out a shrunken invisibility cloak from his robes, enlarges it to its normal size, and disappears beneath the silvery material, feeling its strange softness like a second skin. And then he flattens himself against the wall, scooting around until he’s strategically placed within an alcove near the entrance to the girls’ lavatory—far away enough to give a wide berth to anyone he doesn’t want to alert, but near enough for an encounter with his target.

His target, who he presumes is not nearly as unsuspecting as she’d let on.

It takes only about ten seconds or so before he sees the swish of her robes, witnesses the easy smile on her face as Lily rounds the corner, nose teased red from cold, freckles scattered like stars, and finds the walls of his chest tighten like concrete slabs at the sight.

In a flash of movement, he’s got a hand wrapped around her wrist, sliding to her waist, yanking her firmly against his body without so much as a whispered greeting. Lily’s impulsive screech of surprise dies down the instant the cloak falls over her head, enveloping them both. The tension of her muscles melts away beneath his fingertips, and she’s quick to plant her hands on his chest, brush indelicately closer, space shrinking enough that he tastes the mint on her breath when she speaks.

“Rather indecent of you to accost me like this, Potter.”

He bends down, appreciates the excited gleam in the green of her eyes. His thumb finds her nape, massages gently. “I had something very important to discuss with you.”

“Mm,” Lily purrs. “That’s better. How may I help you?”

“You see,” he starts, chokes slightly when she grinds against him purposefully. “You see, I was just leaving the castle this morning, ready for a lovely outing with my mates, when a witch who looked remarkably like you all but shoved me into a broom closet, declared her undying love for me, and then snogged me into oblivion. And well, you’ve got to understand what that sort of thing does to a bloke’s mental state.”

“Huh,” she remarks, lets her upper lip slide over his bottom one, nothing but a ghost of touch. “I don’t know much about undying love proclamations, but do go on about this snogging into oblivion business, please.”

James drops his head, sucks on the pulse that jumps beneath the skin of her neck. “Oblivion. Abyss. A whole lot of glittering darkness,” he confesses. “And since this witch resembled you—”

“Remarkably,” she moans, soft.

“Remarkably, of course—I thought it only proper to inform you of such an occurrence, y’know, for reputation’s sake. You’ve got that Head Girl image to maintain. Can’t have imposters of you running around making out with the Head Boy. Doesn’t look too good, to be honest. And I’m saying this purely out of selflessness, of course. If, on the other hand, you were to shed some light on this act and admit to...I don’t know...a lack of an imposter, it would mean a whole other thing—”

Lily slams him back against the wall, hand shoving his chest, mouth dangerously close to his. “Shut up, you’re rambling.” She smirks. “Just kiss me.”

And almost as if unable to sustain any patience to allow him to follow the directive, her lips crush over his in a kiss that somehow burns through his every molecule, scorching the very skin he wears, rivalling even the best kiss he’s ever had in his life, which was, incidentally, shared with the same person naught but two hours ago. Lily’s hand curls over his collar, twisting the fabric, giving her purchase to devour him alive. He reciprocates with a tightening grip on her waist, tilting her jaw, slipping his tongue inside to brush over the warm wetness of hers. A mad rush of breath, of gliding mouths and hands and softly uttered moans passes between them, the air under the cloak sweltering despite the cold outside.

Eventually, James wrenches himself away long enough to get the word out; her name. “Lily.”

“Mm,” she manages, lips on his cheek.

“I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”

The breathless sincerity of his tone gives her pause, and she pulls back, eyes dark and confused. “What?”

“Do you,” he swallows past the cowardice, the thump of his heart. “Is this happening for real? You actually want...me?”

A beat passes, a long one, and Lily stares and stares and stares. Eventually, a smile spills, and he’s reminded of that abyss; glittering endlessly. “Yeah, James. I want you. Wholly. Fully.” She kisses him again, trails the honey on his lips. “I’m just letting you enjoy this outing with the boys, because once we’re back at the castle…”

She’s trailed off, left him to articulate thoughts. “What then?”

Lily grins, glint of teeth so cruelly delicious that it steals his breath, especially when accompanied by the roll of her hips. “I’ll let you fill in the blank.”