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crimsonophelia · 3 years

Note

hello basil!!! i’m the anon that sent the original request of reader being a big dumb dumb and accidentally mailing their love letters to childe in liyue—i personally just wanted to tell you that i absolutely LOVED what you wrote and that i’m so happy and grateful you did my request justice. keep up the good work!!!

if you wouldn’t mind, could i request for a hurt/comfort angst with kaeya and a gn reader? the reader is a fellow knight of favonius that regularly gets dunked on by their friends for their crush on the cavalry captain—but every time their friends insist they confess to him, they joke that “sure, i’ll tell him when i die.” and then they actually nearly die.

while on a mission with kaeya, something terrible happens that seemingly pushes the reader to the brink of death. they’re in his arms and convinced they’re about to die, so with their “dying” breath, they tell kaeya that they’re in love with him before the world goes black.

but then they wake up. 👁 (you know the drill—what happens next is completely up to you!!!)

featuring: kaeya x gn!reader

warnings: good ol' angst, some descriptions of blood, lots of typos lol

published: may 27, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: hi anon!! i'm glad you liked that imagine www and thank you for sending me ideas again! you know how much i love angst and kaeya lol~ also please forgive me for making it so long, i tried to challenge my writing abilities a bit more.

You came into this mission knowing that it would be quite a bit more difficult than the ones you typically took on. You were merely a B-rank knight, working on your certification to reach A-rank status, which definitely was not an easy feat. Yet the open commission to investigate a newly-uncovered set of ruins in Dadaupa Gorge was requiring one more member of the dual-member expedition team. When you saw who had occupied the first position for the mission, you threw caution to the wind and signed your name for position two, despite the mission being ranked A-level, at the very least. The occupied position? Filled by none other than Kaeya Alberich, captain of the Knights of Favonius cavalry, S-rank soldier and swordsman, and your former mentor. Who also happened to be the man you had hopelessly fallen for.

The mission was assigned by the headquarters of the Knights, specifically for fully-trained Knights only, as the nature of the mission would be too dangerous for your run-of-the-mill adventurer team, and the Knights did not want to be held accountable for any potential casualties or injuries as a result of a mission gone wrong. You and Kaeya had been assigned to go investigate a newly-uncovered set of ruins in the Whispering Woods, supposedly already showing signs of being an Abyss rendezvous point. Apparently, the team of archaeologists who uncovered the ancient rocks from behind a thicket of trees had had many difficulties even making it back to the city of Mondstadt alive. You were frightened, no doubt about it, but you also knew that this was your chance. Your chance to prove yourself and your capability as a knight. Back in your training days before you took the certification exam to become a knight, you were Kaeya’s favorite pupil, a star student. Also possessing a Cryo vision, like the captain himself, certainly did not hurt your reputation in his eyes. Now, having taken on and excelled at countless dangerous B-rank missions, you felt confident in your ability to take on a mere A-rank mission, especially with the captain of the cavalry at your side.

You had almost forgotten about the icy presence at your side, lost in your own daydreams of ambition. After following the paths leading out of Mondstadt, weapons and supplies ready at hand, you and Kaeya had finally made it to the edge of the Whispering Woods. It was starting to get dark, even though the two of you had left reasonably early in the day. The woods seemed so much more vast when their shadows grew longer, waning by the last seams of daylight. Faint howling moaned through the leaves (”Wolves? In the Whispering Woods?”, you thought to yourself), and you felt yourself tremble in the slightest. You couldn’t tell if it was due to the fear or the overwhelmingly strong Cryo aura that Kaeya emitted.

The tall man seemed unaffected by the ominous surrounding, forever carrying himself with an unwavering assuredness. He looked onwards, into the woods, eyes darting back and forth, exhibiting the remarkable surveying skills of a seasoned knight.

“Well, [y/n]”, Kaeya turned to you, with that smug yet rather comforting voice of his. “Are you ready?”

Kaeya’s unshakeable confidence was rather spiriting, you had to admit. Nothing like traipsing into a wild forest, overrun with archons-know-what, with only your own wits and a cunning, distractingly handsome knight to guide you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose”, you replied, trying to hide the rookie anxiety from trembling your voice. Damn it, you weren’t even a rookie. You were one of the more experienced knights in the entire Knights of Favonius. You could handle this. Plus, Kaeya has your back. In all the years you had known him, Kaeya had never dropped that rogue-ish grin off of his delicate countenance--he had the face of a prince, but marred with the implications of his mysterious eyepatch (he had never told you how he had lost that eye) and the pierce of his sly smile. It made him all so painfully attractive.

You hate to recall the very first day you met him, the two of you only teenagers, barely adults grown into their own skin, yet he stood at the front of the training yard like the prolific swordsman he was, tan skin gleaming beneath the summer sun, hair tied behind his neck, sinewy muscles stretching as he maneuvered the sword in his hand like it was an extension of his own being. That day, you swore that you would become like Kaeya, that you would learn all you possibly could from him. That was also the day you had fallen hopelessly for the charismatic boy, though you were not aware of it just yet.

Trudging into the forest, you made sure to clutch the weapon at your side a little tighter, wary of any potential threats that could appear in front of you at any moment. You never know how much the Abyss mages could use their magic--they are always using the spirits of Teyvat for evil. Although you had only encountered Abyss mages a small handful of times in your past B-rank missions, you already knew how perilous an interaction with any of them could be. The last time you and a partner engaged with a Pyro mage, you left the site with severe magic burns to your side, which took at least three months to fully heal. Looking at Kaeya, he appeared to be as relaxed as ever, both hands loosely tucked into his pockets, his steps led by his elegant hips. The eerie silence of the woods didn’t seem to bother him at all, a comfortable void between the both of you.

“So, captain”, you begun, doing your best to break the proverbial ice a bit, trying not to let the emptiness of the whole forest get to your head. “How have you been? It’s been a while since we last took an assignment together, I believe. 3 months already, isn’t it?”

Kaeya chuckled. “Oh, drop the formalities, [y/n].” He looked at you with his singular, unobscured eye with a teasing glance. “You’ve always known me as just Kaeya, havent you?”

Blood rushed to your face, although not entirely unwelcome, due to the chilliness of the forest. You hoped that the twilight shadows could hide your red cheeks from the man beside you.

“To answer your question, I am doing exceptionally well, thank you”, he smirked. “Although, the last time I did see you was only about a month ago, at the Windblume Ball. Not sure if you remember it all though—you were rather... intoxicated, it seemed.”

Oh, archons. You didn’t know if your face could possivly get any redder from the embarassment. The Windblume Ball was a month prior, hosted by the Knights for all citizens of Mondstadt to attend, to end the Windblume Festival with a night of wine, music, and dancing. Your group of friends within the Knights convinced you to attend along with them, though they didnt quite succeed at convincing you to finally confess your attraction to the captain of the cavalry himself. You acquiesced only on the condition that you would not have to interact with Kaeya at all that night. The anxiety was simply too much and you did not want to deal with the potential situation of seeing Kaeya in formalwear and absolutely losing your mind, let alone Kaeya seeing you dancing and drinking.

“Oh, come on, [y/n]”, your friends had whined. “If you don’t tell him now, when will you ever? He most definitely finds you attractive, as well.” Chuckling, you took a sip of the wine lrovided by the Dawn Winery. You cringed at the sourness of cheap grapes. “I’ll tell him when I’m dead.” You took another sip of the wine, but over the rim of the glass, you saw the one person you were hell-bent on avoiding.

Kaeya Alberich stood across the room, talking to one of the other knights. He was dressed to the nines, in clothing you had never seen him don before. His hair was parted neatly, his long lovelock secured by a large sapphire band. His lean, upper body was covered by a three piece suit, fitted perfectly around his narrow waist, tailcoat resting neatly by his thick, carved thighs. His pants were pressed tightly, without a wrinkle, and he had brought along his usual white fur cape, giving him the sophisticated look of a king.

In awe, you spluttered in your drink as he caught your eye from across the room, clearly noticing you were staring at him. You turned the other way, seeing that your friends were making fun of your oblivious gawking, and they now excitedly pointed behind you, mouthing the words he’s coming! You tried your best to smooth down your hair and pat down your outfit, before turning back around to see that the captain was standing in front of you, face-to-face, with his hand outstretched.

He looked even more sparklingly glamorous up close, an image of old-world elegance that you never knew him capable of portraying. You suddenly felt more drunk than any cheap wine could possibly make you. Kaeya looked at you, a gleam in his eye, and asked

“May I have this dance, [y/n]?”

The rest of the night was a blur, what with your continued consumption of alcohol, convincing yourself you needed to periodically top up your liquid courage. Kaeya had asked you for a few more dances, as far as you remembered. But from what you could recall, he was just as elegant and charismatic as you had always remembered him to be. He never made you feel out of place.

It was awful that Kaeya only seemed to remember how disgustingly drunk you were, but you were thankful at least that he didn’t seem to recall the perpetual state of flusteredness you were in that night, by his mere presence beside you, and his hands guiding yours as you both danced to the upbeat music of the band.

“Archons, I assure you that I am not the unabashed drunkard I may have seemed to be that night”, you chuckled.

Kaeya let out a hearty laugh, his voice reminding you of the sounds of the bells ringing atop the Cathedral. “Of course not, my dear”, he drawled. “I’ve met many a drunkard in my day—you are far from one; I promise.”

You and Kaeya kept on your way in this manner, making pleasant small talk to fill the silence. You didn’t dare tell him for fear of seeming a coward, but hearing his voice and reminiscing with him diminished the fright you initially felt, entering the woods and taking on this assignment. Kaeya was a master conversationalist, and diplomat too, no doubt, always knowing what to say at what time. His warm remarks and playful banter took your mind off of the imminent danger of your situation, and you didn’t notice the path you were both on narrowing. The sun had already set, and the woods were doused in an eerie darkness, and as you and Kaeya approached the vicinity of the ruins, the thickets grew denser and the tree branches hung lower. Not a sound could be heard--

Until suddenly, Kaeya stepped in front of you, blocking your path with an arm outstretched. Shit. You smelled Abyss magic. How could you have possibly missed the putrid scent of sulfur before?

Kaeya’s grin had fallen. His attention was now beyond only you, as if trying to detect something he sensed nearby. Out of nowhere, a hum grew, louder, until an earblasting pop rang out in front of you and Kaeya, and in its place were three Pyro Abyss mages. Three. You could handle one, if you had a partner with you, but three?

Terror ran down your spine, knowing how difficult your Cryo vision could be against a Pyro mage. Your hand unsheathed the sword at your side with blinding speed, just like you were trained, but before you could even take a step forward, Kaeya was already charging at the mages, ice blasting forth from his swordtip, smashing up against the mages’ shields.

“Aren’t ya glad I caught that, [y/n]?” Kaeya teased, sword cutting through the air and the force fields surrounding the mages, as their strained groans pierced the night air. His movements were swift and effortless; at times his movements were so fast that it looked like he teleported from one spot to the next. This was the grace, the beauty of a true prodigy. “If I hadn’t stopped you, we would’ve been roast boar by now!”

You jumped into action, assisting Kaeya with his assaults against the mages, doing your best to dodge the onslaught of fireballs. You felt the heat of the fire magic graze your extremities more than once, counting your blessings that it was nothing critical. The way the two of you moved in unison, one complementing the other, like an avalanche of piercing ice, was a testament to the years of experience you gained in under Kaeya’s expert tutelage. One sword piercing the left, the other the right, until you both had broken down two of the Pyro mages’ shields. You had never gotten through their force fields in such rapid succession before, you thought, in awe. Swinging your sword calculatedly, whilst utilizing your vision and shooting out ice crystals, you defeated the mage, dealing a killing blow, piercing its side with your sword. You watched the creature groan out gutturally, and eventually dissipate into ash, drifting away.

Turning around, you noticed that Kaeya had already taken care of the other mage, already breaking down the final one’s shield. He dodged each blast of Pyro magic with grace and ease, not even showing any sign of fatigue.

“Hey, good work rookie!”, Kaeya teased, activating his ultimate Cryo weapon, sending a halo of ice crystals about his body, knocking into the mage’s shield with every swing.

You huffed. “I’m not a rookie”, you called back, joining him in his siege upon the last enemy. Exhaustion was quickly catching up to you, although you tried to hide it. You couldn’t let Kaeya down.

Over and over, the pair of you banged upon the force field with your swords, with more difficulty than any of the previous mages. This one was different, somewhat stronger. The grass surrounding the two of you was already lit up in flames, licking at your ankles. If you even so much as tripped, the heat would probably damage you more than a fireball could.

“Watch out, rookie”, Kaeya yelled in your directions, trying to be heard above the cackling of the mage and the raging flames, already beginning to catch onto the trees nearby. The night was filled with a reddish glow--hellish and suffocating. “I think it’s about to activate it’s ultimate.”

The cackling grew louder, as you worked yourself into a frenzy, shooting more and more ice crystals, trying to break it’s force field. Three, dragon-like heads began to emerge around where the mage floated. Fuck. The fire-breathers were out. You had only ever fought a Pyro mage that could use fire-breathers once before--that also happened to be the instance that caused you to be an invalid for several months, healing from a deep flesh burn. But Kaeya was here this time. Things would be okay, right?

You could tell Kaeya was growing panicked as well, his swings becoming a bit more hurried and erratic. You didn’t know, but he was deathly worried about you. He had no idea how experienced you were with dodging the fire-breathers, and he knew he had to make quick work of the blasted mage before things could escalate, Archons forbid you get hurt. Kaeya activated his ultimate once more, and, finally, the mage’s shield broke.

You heaved a sigh of relief, closing in on the Pyro mage. Kaeya’s strength and incredible reliability in battle did not fail to impress you, even beyond just the prowess he had demonstrated as a trainee and a mentor. You finally activated your own ultimate, summoning a boulder made of hard ice. Approaching the mage as you saw it struggle to get up off the ground, the ice in your boulder began to form, and you willed it to hurl towards the mage, intending to finish it off. Finally, you would show Kaeya your true strength, your capability. He could depend on you. Hell, you were his star student. Even if you were afraid to tell him about how he had stolen your heart, you could at least show him that the time and effort he had dedicated to you wasn’t for naught.

The seconds slowed down, as the blinding white ice made its way through the air, aimed straight at the pathetic mage, groveling in the dirt. But beyond the ice, was something even brighter, not making its way to the mage; no, it was headed straight at you. A fireball.

You felt an excruciating pain on your left side, right below your ribcage. A scream in the distance--the mage? No; it was Kaeya’s voice. The white-hot pain blinded you, as you felt your back make contact with the hard ground beneath you. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Archons, what will Kaeya think?

Vaguely willing your arm to press into your side to assess the damage, you felt warm, sticky liquid pooling on your waist. Lifting a hand, you saw it drenched in crimson blood, dark in the moonlight. You heard another scream again nearby, this time coming from the guttural squeaks you knew was the mage, the dying cries of a pitiful monster. At once, a pair of arms lifted you from the ground, supporting your head. What a damned disappointment you were.

“[y/n]! [Y/N]! DAMMIT!” You had never heard Kaeya this worked up before. The pain of hearing the panic in his voice was also tinged with a selfish gladness that he cared, that Kaeya Alberich gave a damn if you died. Because, in that moment, you were certain you would die.

Straining out a chuckle, your chest racked up a wet cough, sticky blood now staining the edges of your lips. I’ll tell him when I’m dead, you once said. Well, isn’t this all quite ironic.

“Fucking hell, [y/n], I need you to keep your eyes open”, Kaeya commanded. He was using his captain voice, the one that only comes out when a new recruit wasn’t following orders. “Rookie, don’t you dare pass out on me.” His voice wavered.

Would it be worth it to tell him now? Did you want his last memory of you to be a pathetic, wishful fantasy spilling forth from your bloodstained lips, like the nonsense uttered by a mere child? Your vision spun faster, losing sight of Kaeya, hovering over you. You couldn’t make out his features too clearly in the darkness, but something about the wet drops of water landing on your cheeks told you that it wasnt more blood. You supposed that you should do yourself justice and at least keep the one promise you made that night in Mondstadt.

Straining to open your mouth, you uttered, “Kaeya, I—”

But before you could muster the strength to speak another word, your vision went dark.

*****

The first thing you heard when you woke up was the sound of birds chirping. The second was a silent snoring sound coming from somewhere to your right.

Cracking your weary eyes open, you sensed the faint light of the early morning coming in through an nearby window. Getting your bearings, you realized you had woken up in the Knights of Favonius headquarters hospital. Your damaged adventurer’s clothes were gone, and instead you could feel bandages dressed around the wound at your side. Oh, right. You thought you had died.

Trying to sit up, you fekt an excruciating pain burn through the side of your body that had been hit, setting your nerves on fire. You hissed, and the snoring beside you abruptly stopped.

“Archons, you’re awake.”

Kaeya sat up from the chair he had apparently been sleeping in, still dressed in his captain’s armor, just as dirt-covered and singed as when you last saw him. Was that only last night? You figured Kaeya must have hurried you back to the city before your condition could get any worse.

Fuck. As all your memories of the prior night came flooding back, your eyes pooled up with salty tears. Not only had you cone closest to death than you’ve ever had, you had completely disappointed Kaeya and made a fool of yourself in front of him.

“Kaeya, I’m so sorry—”, you started.

Your words were interrupted by the man next to you leaping into your embrace, arms wrapping your shoulders where you were not injured. “Dammit, [y/n]. When won’t you just shut up.” His voice was muffled by his face buried into your neck. “You don’t have to say a word.”

It scared you, seeing him vulnerable. The ever-cocky and cunning captain of the cavalry, the man who always had a plan and was never caught off-guard. Now, a man bearing his innermost emotions to you, little old you. Had he heard what you begun to tell him last night? Or were things going to return back to the way they were, you admiring his dazzling beauty from a distance, comfortable yet agonized at the degree of separation.

You hoped to the archons for the latter. You hoped that it wouldn’t take another instance where you almost lost your life for the love you felt for him to spill forth. Archons, even if you had to die, it would still all be worth it, if it were with him at your side.

Kaeya trembled as he pressed himself deeper into you, desperately clinging on. “Don’t you dare open your mouth, rookie”, he chided. “I don’t want to hear something you’ll only tell me when you’re almost gone. Please just let me do the talking.”

Pulling back, you looked at him in confusion. His hair was disheveled, eyepatch slightly askew, yet his face was full of an almost childlike wonder, akin to the gleam he possessed when you had first met him, however many years ago.

“Do you think I did it all for nothing?” Kaeya looked at you. “Do you think all those years of training together, eating together, soarring together, was all because I thought you had potential as a soldier? The private walks through Windrise, the nights spent at the tavern, the dance, that damned dance we shared—what did you think that was?” Desperate and exhausted, Kaeya’s eye began to shimmer with tears. “Fucking hell, [y/n]. I’ve always loved you. Since the very beginning, you idiot. Why else would I dedicate all my time, all my energy to you and only you?” He grasped your shoulders tighter. “If you think that I haven’t been madly in love with you since I first laid eyes upon you that day, then you’re fucking wrong.”

You cut him off, burying your hands into his hair—pain be damned—and kissed him. It was bitter and metallic, the taste of both of your blood on your tongue. Kaeya’s neck was ice cold, but his cracked lips were thick and warm, and when you pulled away from them, you suddenly felt like you could take on the world.

“Well”, you remarked. “I’m glad that we got that out of the way.”

a/n: uhuhuhu this is pretty long but i hope you like it! i wanted to improve my writing a bit and elaborate on descriptions a bit more, so i hope i did your request justice!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin x reader #kaeya #kaeya headcanons #kaeya imagines #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #angst #genshin angst

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

Touch And Go

day six, where dick realises there’s no way to fit back into his life after returning from spyral...

A/N: blame spyral for this, i’m still mad about it. whumptober prompt: touch starved

Cold had become a constant in Dick’s life.

Cold words, cold stares, cold nights, cold shoulders, cold drinks, cold reports, cold hands, cold everything .

He thinks the cold might have been the worst part of being undercover. Because sure, the risks and the deadlines and the uncertainty hadn’t exactly been fun, but the cold had been something beyond awful: the cold had been lonely.

Dick grew up surrounded by people and love and warmth, and then he grew up around fewer people and more subtle love but somehow just as much warmth, and then he became a part of the people and love and warmth that yet another version of his family was growing up surrounded by.

He didn’t always do a great job of providing love and warmth, he knows, but he tried. And he liked to think that it had worked because every time he felt like the nights were too dark or too long or too haunted, nostalgia had only brought back memories of smiles and bickering and warmth that fuelled him to keep working, to keep fighting, to just generally keep going.

Only, he must have thought wrong.

He must have, because now he’s back to living normally and he’s actually allowed to exist in daylight and everything should be fine, but it’s not; he hadn’t been foolish enough to think everyone would forgive him immediately - pretending he was dead is far worse than dropping off the grid for a few days after a fight - but he had apparently been foolish enough to think everyone would forgive him at all.

Nightwing returns with relative ease but Dick Grayson finds himself unwanted.

He’s unwanted when he tries to talk to Jason about the classics he’d read to cope but finds himself met with only vague comments about their opinions being mismatched. He’s unwanted when he offers Tim help with his research for a case he’s been looking into all night but finds himself met with barely polite dismissals. He’s unwanted when he offers to take Damian out for some fun but finds himself met with scowls and excuses that only half make sense.

So he stops trying to be wanted.

He leaves Gotham.

He finds a new place in Bludhaven and spends every night throwing around threats and punches until the crime rate drops to unprecedented low levels, then continues to patrol as if his life depends on it anyway. He won’t admit it, but it somewhat does.

And he knows he’s getting a very strange reputation because every gang has a different theory about his return and why his puns are often mixed with bloodlust and why he never seems to sleep, but he couldn’t care less - he doesn’t let himself care because caring is warm and he is oh so cold and there’s no changing that.

Some days, usually after bad nights, he craves warmth. He craves hands running gently through his hair, he craves arms wrapped tightly around him, he craves fingers intertwined seamlessly with his own, he craves and craves and craves so badly that it hurts.

There are no painkillers that work against this kind of cold.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s summer or winter, the cold sticks to his skin like lichen to a rock. He wants desperately for someone to replace it with the warmth of human contact but his only option is getting into fights and although trading punches with the criminal underworld can be a good distraction, he’s still on his own again by the time he gets back from patrol.

“Richard?”

Well, he’s usually on his own.

He flinches at the sound of his name, not having heard anyone say it for far too long, instinctively unsheathing his escrima sticks and positioning himself defensively because he can’t think of anyone who would be in his apartment unless they’re trying to kill him.

“There’s no need for that, it’s just me.”

Me?

Me, who?

Dick drops his escrima sticks, not sure whether he does so because something in his head tells him the voice can be trusted or if he just doesn’t care enough to protect himself any longer.

“Richard?”

This time, the voice sounds concerned and Dick finally looks up.

He blinks.

And blinks again, because there’s no way Damian is standing in front of him right now.

There’s no way anyone can be standing in front of him right now. He hasn’t spoken to any of his family - if he’s even still allowed to call them that - for weeks and they’ve given no indication of caring what he’s been doing or even where he is so Damian being here is illogical at best and another hallucination at worst.

“Richard- Dick? Are you hurt?”

It’s the use of his preferred nickname that jolts Dick out of his shock. He swallows and shakes his head, pulling himself upright and resisting the urge to ask how Damian is doing, how everyone is doing, how the people he loves but isn’t loved back by are doing without him.

“Damian. It’s uhm, it’s really nice to see you. Is there something I can help you with?” he asks, smiling.

Damian frowns at him, glancing between his abandoned weapons and the awkward way he’s holding himself before clicking his tongue. “Alfred would like to invite you back home for dinner.”

Dick laughs.

“Home?” he echoes.

The manor hasn’t been his home since he died.

Home is people and love and warmth and the manor is none of those things. It can’t be any of those things because everyone living there hates him and everything about the place leaves him feeling empty and everywhere he goes, he is always alone and cold.

“I would also appreciate your presence,” Damian adds softly, stepping forwards.

Under any other circumstances, Dick would congratulate his little brother on expressing his feelings. But now he knows better than to think Damian would tolerate that so he just steps back, wrapping his arms around his stomach and clenching his hands into fists around his suit. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Richard, I-”

“It’s okay, I know you can’t forgive me,” Dick interrupts, knowing that anything Damian says would probably break him to the point of no return. “You don’t need to explain, I don’t blame you. I- I love you and… and I understand. And I’m sorry- I’m so, so, sorry. I just- I get it and I’m so sorry.”

Before Damian can get any closer, Dick grabs his escrima sticks and all but flings himself out of the window, knowing that he can never go back to that apartment and will most definitely have to relocate once more. But that’s okay because anything and anywhere will be better than being reminded of the people he will never see again, of the love he will never share again, of the warmth he will never feel again.

accidentally turned him into a more angsty elsa, oops-

thanks for reading !! masterlist | dc sideblog: @batfamvibes

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #touch starved #dc #batman #fanfiction #dick grayson #hurt dick grayson #hurt no comfort #angst #dick and damian #my writing #nightwhump #no beta we die like dick's hopes and dreams

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evilzoldyck · 4 years

Text

Hell is Other People

Admiring the heavy rock that was tailored perfectly to match your finger in silent awe you gleamed almost as brightly as the diamond which glittered underneath the moonlight.

You could hear the murmurs of your guests and the faint music of the orchestra playing in the background from afar as you stood in your private balcony to revere the ring that symbolised an emblem of eternal faith and affection. To be quite honest with yourself you hadn’t seen it coming, just earlier in the day you’re mulling over which dress to wear for the evening party that your partner scrupulously planned for since months, now that he had proposed to you in front of all your highly esteemed company it all made sense.

This was your engagement party.

Pleading with a resolute ‘yes’ for an answer, the colossal baroque hall erupted into an applause at the sight of the new happily engaged couple. Wiping a few tears of joy and sharing quick loving kisses from your partner he proudly showed you around where his parents eagerly took you in as part of the family. His Mother held you tight as if you were her very own and his Father kissed the back of your hand cordially in response. You’ve never felt so welcomed before, the warmth of having a real family was one that was foreign but comforting for you.

Taking a break from meeting all the guests he had personally invited to witness his ardent declaration of love, you stood alone in the cool breeze to process all the adrenaline in blissfully. To think, engaged during a peaceful warm season, you couldn’t believe you’re going to celebrate your anniversary every year on such a beautiful weather, making a special connotation to the word summer now.

Suddenly feeling an unwanted presence behind you, your face that was once graced with a contented smile had turned into a sour frown. You knew exactly who would turn the most happiest night of your life upside down, trailing after a bloody carpet and reigning chaos until the dawn rises.

The harbinger of death itself, Chrollo Lucilfer.

“So he’s finally proposed,” his dark timbre voice reverberated through the quiet night, startling such a tranquil silence. “I’d congratulate you on your engagement, but I can’t say I’m quite pleased.” There were hundreds of guards your partner employed on duty at the whole premise, guarding every entrance and exit making sure to keep trespassers at bay to keep this party perfect. Though with all the security money could by at your disposal, you weren’t completely surprised someone like him could get through easily, he is the head of the spider after all, capable of going in and out wherever he pleases.

“Chrollo,” you acknowdleged him with an air of indifference, turning around to the slightly to see him dressed in a fine black suit and tie, oddly appropriate for the occasion. “Where are the rest of the troupe? Couldn’t imagine you pulling off a heist on your own.” It was true, there were many treasures such as valuable paintings and ornaments all held in a considerable amount of monetary value scattered along the place, and even then, there were hidden assets stored deep underground that even you had just learned about, or perhaps he’s come for the family’s precious heirloom?

“No need to be so tense, it’s just me tonight.” He suddenly appeared before you, holding the hand in which the engagement ring was secured onto. Smiling bitterly at the glistening jewellery, he showed no movement or even an ounce of intention to take it away from you, rather he looked to be quite pensive as he studied it with a forlorn expression. “I don’t necessarily like to intrude, but it seems that I was uninvited by your charming fiancé.”

Taking your hand away from his cold hands without ever leaving your skeptical eyes off of his lackadaisical form, he reluctantly lets it go. “The feeling still stands.” Glaring at him with a scathing passion. “There is nothing for you to take here, nothing that you have not already seen before. Leave this people alone, they have nothing worthy of you to steal from.”

“You seem to be quite fond of them,” Chrollo commented motionlessly, closing the space even closer. “Perhaps even more than me.” A distasteful tone from him had you nearly shivering in your heels, however you needed to stand your ground you couldn’t let him ruin everything you worked so hard for.

“I’ve let you had your fun, released you from your ties, gave you time for yourself and now what do you do? Run into the arms of another man.” He trapped you in between his body and the stone carved balustrades. “Don’t tell me I’ve been replaced,” he whispered in bitter disbelief before placating himself quickly and placed a gentle hand upon your cheek. “My dearest friend, do I really stand no chance with you? Didn’t you once held me high in the standing of your heart?”

Your throat went completely dry as he bared his unbridled affections for you. “Once,” you answered truthfully. Years before in Meteor City you both shared the same vision, the same utopian perspective of your future filled with comfort through grim determination. However as time progressed he began to stray further away from what you both shared. You watched his avarice grow beyond expectancy, stepping over bodies to get what he desired without a vestige of remorse or empathy. Time turned him to be such a monster, an unrecognisable stranger who’s oddly keeping you alive by his side. “A long time ago, but now I barely remember the traces of where I held you in such position.”

Chrollo smiled sullenly at your response, as if he was expecting the daggers of your tongue into his heart. “You’re too cruel,” he detached the palm of his hand from your soft skin.

“I can’t help but ask after all this time.” He placed a hand against the railing, thoroughly interrogating you closely. “Was it fun, making me chase after you? Did you enjoy the idea of me grovelling for your attention, for you to spare me a simple kiss? I’ve circled the world for your heart and yet it never seems to be enough.”

He kept the bitter quirk on his lips as he continued, “like I’m never enough.”

Gripping onto the hard stone you willed yourself not to let your knees give out. Though he didn’t show it, you could see the raging storm of emotions in his eyes, the pain and betrayal he felt when you left and the sliver of intention to hurt you. You wanted to calm him down, pacify his anger like you did before when you were both younger. However you couldn’t reward his behaviour anymore, you couldn’t be on the same side where history would echo the time in which evil was left untamed

“What is it he has that I couldn’t give you?” He spoke so softly you could feel the sincerity in his words.

“It’s not something you could give me,” your tone as careful and gentle as ever around the capricious being. Unfortunately that set every fibre of his being on fire.

“Do you even love him?”

You took his challenging words as a personal affront to your integrity. “I find it hard to see if that is any of your concern.”

“He’s nearly twice your age.” Chrollo staunchly dismissed. “I see the way you look at me, you look at me with such anger in your eyes, like I’m the lowest being to walk on earth; a vermin with no moral compass.” The warm night air suddenly turned frigid at the sound of his strained voice that was holding back such malice. “And you’re right, but what differentiates me from you is that at least I don’t lie to myself.”

“And the worst thing is that you don’t even seem to realise it do you? You willingly use others for your own interests and discard them once you no longer had use of them. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you and I both know your true nature. You’re exactly like me- in fact you might even be worse than me, robbing people blind. I do my work in the dark but you do yours in broad daylight,” Chrollo stated. “I’m not the only monster here.”

“Don’t talk to me of hypocrisy when you value those philosophical books so much,” you angrily countered, noting how much time he spent on the ideas and theories discussed in heavy literatures such as the Leviathan. “Never have I met someone so ridiculously obsessed with Western perspectives on rules and regulations and yet completely disregards them in practice.”

“But isn’t that what’s so appealing about it? Of course I don’t take these words as gospel when there’s so many critiques to each theory. It’s too nuanced and complex to ever rightfully regulate civil society that who could determine what I’m doing is immoral? For Hobbes I’m merely exercising my right of nature as it is ‘the liberty each man hath, to use his own power, as he will for himself, for the preservation of his own nature,’ you remember right?” He quipped, reminding you of the times he shared his esoteric books with you, engaging in meaningful and intellectual thoughts until the candle burned out.

“I have not consented to the laws of nature and therefore I have yet to surrender my natural rights. Thus the sovereign is illegitimate to me and I’m under no obligation of the state as I have not entered in any form of contract bound by the will and rule of the sovereign. I’m not bound to any laws of this land for I do not conform to the will of others but myself. Plato’s Crito would further support his argument on the laws of consent.”

Scoffing at his misconstrued interpretation you vacantly refuted. “Hobbes also said that if there is reasonable hope in preserving peace to seek and follow it.”

“However I may think it not necessary or the best for my life to be best preserved then I may seek and use all helps and advantages of war.”

“Nevertheless all that is futile for his argument remains that the design of men is the willingness to put restraint upon themselves for a more contented life thereby. We should ultimately consent for the second law of nature requires that we should covenant for peace if others are willing.”

“If others are willing.” He repeated and stressed out the first word. “Do you remember where we lived? No person there would opt for peace, it’s every man for themselves. It is what he hypothetically calls the state of nature, a horrible nasty, brutish and short life, except it’s real. Meteor City is a lawless land and as he states that no contract could be formed in the state of nature. Thus this paradox leaves us in a perpetual natural state of mankind; war.”

“You know there’s more to philosophy than just the Leviathan, Rousseau’s Social Contract and Locke’s Second Treatise of Civil Government has a lot to say on your so called ‘freedom’. There is no advantage to stay in the state of nature, the natural progress of humanity is the establishment of a common political authority for the sake of improving our way of life.”

“Actually Locke and Hobbes states that the state diminishes our sense of freedom but is justified in doing so, by no means did they implied our freedom would be retained, and that, is what I don’t find an improvement.”

“Rousseau would disagree with you, the state is a necessary condition of our freedom for the sovereign is the construction of all through the general will and so is directly exercised by the citizenry. Therefore, this eliminates the tension between political authority and individual freedom.” You sighed, “Chrollo even if you wanted to retain individual autonomy over yourself you’d surely remember Mill’s first sentence on the harm principle, ‘the only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to attain it.’ In other words, as long as you don’t harm others you can do whatever the fuck you like, but you seem to struggle with that concept of freedom don’t you?”

He suddenly chuckled lightly at your remark. “How are you so quick to mark me wrong as if I had forgotten your favourite book?” You suddenly shifted uncomfortably on your feet as he smirked amusingly at your cornered form. “I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the revered Mary Wollstonecraft, we would often read her passages for hours didn’t we? A Vindication of the Rights of a Woman, well, I guess we’re both hypocrites here.”

“What was her argument? That women were rendered weak, lacked the use of reason, had no special moral value?” He droned on and looked afar as if he was in deep thought before returning his sharp gaze to yours. “You had a lot to say about the sexist social arrangements in today’s society, you argued that women are deprived of their natural rights to acquire virtue through the use reason. How Wollstonecraft would be so disappointed if she could see you right now, the most passionate proponent of her work devoting her energies in pleasing and making herself attractive to men.”

“Stop it.” You hissed as he jabbed at your pride, mocking your own words of the past to further humiliate your contradicting present.

“What were the words you used to quote to me? ‘Have women so little in ambition as to be satisfied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure and render themselves conspicuous by practicing the virtues which signify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the carress of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over.’ Aren’t you becoming the women she is scathing about?”

“What’s so wrong with pleasure? Wanting to be taken care of? The want and human need for companionship and love is not one to be jeered at. Might it just even cross your mind that I chose this life instead of ‘building my faculty.’ Those texts described the social conditioning of women back in the eighteen hundreds, women have more options now and are more than capable to choose. Times have changed.”

“Have they?” Chrollo hummed. “Is the pleasure that you insist on promoting for you, or for him?” He rubbed the silky garment of your dress impassively. “Don’t you wish to be more than a pretty ornament? To have purpose and participate in the natural rights of mankind? ‘Virtue, says reason, must be acquired by rough toils, and useful struggles with worldly cares.’ Sure you are provided with goods and raiment but liberty and virtue are given in exchange. You could build your character by the sense of struggle of living-“

“How can you call that living?!” You exploded abruptly, pausing for a moment to realise that you were shaking all over as you stood in your designer heels before him with glassy eyes. “What we did- to those people, those families, it was never enough for you. I may be what I despised in my youth but I’m better off being an indulgence for others rather than taking account for mass genocide; for what I lack in virtue I make up for my own compassion.”

“How kindly of you,” he nodded absently. “Then perhaps we should test it. Referring back on your comment on Mill’s harm principle, you must know then that the cause of evil not only takes account of a person’s action but also their inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable for the injury.”

“What are you saying?”

“Let’s hypothesise that I would come back on your white wedding day and that I would kill everyone present during the reception, by learning this information, you then would be held responsible for each of their death.” You griped your hand so hard you’re sure that you’ve left specks of bloody crescent moon marks on the palm of your hands.

“I have no obligation of duty towards you, therefore the harm principle does not apply to me for I am not responsible or related for your actions.” You countered at his allusion to the other-regarding actions where a special role of obligation is placed within the liberty principle.

“No unfortunately you’re not,” he agreed. “But him, would you not protect him at all costs? Surely as your soon to be life long partner you would do whatever it takes to promote his health and well-being. If you would simply come back to me before the day of wedding, denounce your engagement and reinstate your affiliation and loyalty towards the troupe everybody gets their happily ever after.” He finally took a step back. “In failing to meet our obligations to others we are actually harming them.”

“I’m tired of your philosophical rhapsodies, if you were to kill others or even yourself I would not hold myself accountable so I suggest you’d best return to whatever matters you currently have and leave us alone.” You’ve grown anxious and wary of the dangerous connotation of his words and with the way he was impishly grinning at you suggested that he saw right through your bluff.

“Its getting late, you should return to your awaiting fiancé before he realises you’ve been gone for too long,” looking back down at the sight of pretty swirls of dresses on the ballroom quietly dwindling down as the night grew longer. “It’s reassuring to see that you haven’t changed at all, I missed our philosophical prattle.”

“I can hardly say the same, discussing Western philosophers on an engagement party is certainly not in the least enlightening, I suggest you turn to the East for matters such as these.”

Chrollo gave a half-suppressed laugh and an amused smile, one that was rare and sincere in which held no trace of malice or cruelty. “Before I forget to tell you, you look beautiful.” You didn’t let your hardened expression change when his comment took you by surprise as he slowly backed away from you and into the shadows.

You heard your name being called out by Thomas where he sighed in relief and ran towards you in a light jog before taking you into his arms. “So this is where you’ve been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he playfully chastised with a turn on his lips. He led you back inside the bright chandelier lit hall to bid your guests farewell for the night, however, you couldn’t help but glance back from your shoulders to see that Chrollo had disappeared.

Though his presence was now absent, his words still rang loudly inside your head. His confrontation of your nature, how the spotlight is too blinding for someone like you and how it’s just a matter of time you would run into the dark once more with your back up against the wall and tangled up in his web seem to be conveyed as a confident prediction rather than insults to your moral character.

Chrollo wasn’t here to steal anything, not even you, he wanted you to come to him on your own accord even if he had to force pieces to make you submit to his will. However, his appearance tonight also wasn’t meant for mere formalities, in fact he made his purpose and intention clear when he first spoke of the day you would finally be wed.

It was a warning.

#this is gonna be the last fic for a while :(#im gonna fuck off for a few weeks since my break is over #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #hunter x hunter #yandere #genei ryoudan #yandere genei ryoudan #Phantom Troupe #yandere phantom troupe

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aellynera · 3 years

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An Off Day (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

AN OFF DAY

(okay, look. my husband thought he was being funny and said “give me a character and i’ll give you a scenario” and then i snorted laughing and then...well. this happened. set sometime before the events of the movie.)

((shoutout to @anetteaneta for an important bit of info and @tinygaydemonbby for the random chat and another key bit.))

Word Count: 2100(ish)

Summary: It’s your day off and you’re just trying to enjoy it. Nathan is working and he’s trying to enjoy it. It doesn’t at all go the way you imagined.

Warnings: Cursing. Banter. Robot sex (not graphic). Personal injury. Innuendo. Propositions. Nudity. Complete and utterly ridiculous trash. Possible typos. Nathan Bateman.

The absolute magnificence of the Alaskan landscape was something that, quite frankly, you were never going to get used to. The trees, tall and majestic, towering over the lush green grass. The river, crisp and pristine, bubbling its way to the immense waterfall that cascaded down the cliff face and eventually made its way into the ever-vast ocean. The bald eagles that would soar from treetop to treetop, even the occasional moose that would make itself known at the edges of the compound and then disappear like ghosts into the forest beyond.

It was otherworldly.

The occasional twig snapped and leaf crunched under your boots as you hiked along your usual trail along the north side of the property. Today’s air felt cool on your cheeks despite the sun overhead; at least it was summer - technically, even if the temperature wasn’t getting much above 60 degrees Fahrenheit these past few weeks - so you had twenty hours of daylight instead of the twenty hours of darkness in winter.

You found your favorite spot on a nearby rock and perched on the smooth surface, tilting your face up to that glorious, shining orb. This really was what you needed right now.

*ding!*

...And that was really what you didn’t need. Definitely not right now, and probably not later either. Speaking of otherworldly.

Your boss was a difficult man, and you had a strange rapport with him that was irritating on a daily professional basis, and to your dismay, increasingly so on a personal level. To be fair, you were the only two humans out here. To also be fair, your boss was kind of annoyingly hot.

You sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone and glancing at the screen.

God: Where the fuck are you?

God? What the… You were annoyed by the text, but more annoyed by the name. When the hell did that bastard changed his name in your phone? He was insufferable on the best of days, but this was a new low. A new high? You weren’t really sure. Sighing, you shot a text back.

You: It’s my day off.

God: You know that’s not really a thing here right?

You: It is when I need a break from you.

God: I’ll make it up to you.

You: Unless you’re asking me to dinner, I don’t want to hear it.

You groaned. You really didn’t mean to say that.

The little ellipses that showed he was typing back flashed across the screen several times, then stopped. Then popped back up, and stopped again. And just because your boss was your boss, it did it four more times, but still no response.

You shoved your phone back in your jacket pocket and returned your attention to the river, breathing deeply and watching the water swirl around a pile of rocks on the opposite bank.

*ding!*

Dammit.

God: I need you to come back like right now.

You: I’m not gonna sit around and be your Eliza Doolittle today, Nathan.

You weren’t just saying that. Last week, the man had dragged you, literally, into the lab by your elbow and had you repeat vowel sounds and random words extremely phonetically while holding a pulsing orb of glowing blue goo. He claimed it was some kind of brain training. You’d said it wasn’t part of your job description, but honestly, it probably was. You were there to assist, you were there to manage, you were there to occasionally have a satisfyingly intelligent and non-arrogant conversation, and you were mostly there to make sure Nathan Bateman didn’t blow anything up or burn anything down.

That didn’t necessarily mean you liked any of it. Okay, fine, you kind of liked the assisting part and definitely the intelligent conversation part. But it was your day off, and all you wanted to do was not be in the house.

God: What? No, it’s...I just need your help with something.

You: Nathan. It. Is. My. Day. Off. No assistance today. Bother me tomorrow.

God: ...Please?

That gave you pause. Since when did he actually ask for anything politely?

You: Fine. I’m halfway up summit trail, give me like 20.

God: Make it 10.

You: Asshole.

God: And bring a bag of frozen peas.

What the actual hell.

You blinked at the screen twice, turned your phone off completely, and started back towards the house.

*****

You didn’t know why you paid the slightest bit of attention to Nathan’s request, but once in the house, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling a bag of frosty legumes out of the freezer. With it in hand, you made your way to the lab.

Nathan hadn’t told you where he was, but you knew where to find him. He was always in the lab.

“Okay, I’m back,” you called out as you pushed through the door to Nathan’s inner sanctum. “Now what is so damn important that…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Nathan’s voice called out. “Do you have the stuff?”

You glanced around suspiciously. You couldn’t see him. Until you came around the side of the long table in the middle of the room and found him. Your eyes widened at the sight of Nathan, curled up on the floor in a fetal position, sweating and vaguely shaking.

And totally naked.

He glanced up as he saw your shoes approached and weakly raised his arm and made a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

Tossing the frozen vegetables to him, your mouth opened and closed several times, trying to process the scene. Before you could really take it all in, you watched as Nathan reached over his shoulder, grabbed his discarded t-shirt, and wrapping the icy bag in the shirt, placed it directly on his crotch.

“All right,” you finally got out, “what the actual hell is going on?!”

“Ohhhhh,” Nathan moaned as the cold compress made contact with his skin. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“Why are you naked?” you yelled at him.

“There was a malfunction,” he replied, nonchalant as if you were simply discussing the weather.

You just gaped at him. This was definitely not in your job description.

“A malfunction,” you repeated.

Nathan made a feeble gesture at the table. It was covered in metal parts and wires, screwdrivers and other things you assumed were robotic but couldn’t recognize. He had been working a new body build for the past few days, that much you knew. But now there were metal bits everywhere and Nathan was bare as the day he was born, sprawled in the middle of the floor. Your eyes scanned the table again; the biggest object, in the middle of the mess, looked sort of like...oh, you did not like where this was going. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I may have miscalculated the required tension,” Nathan said, still curled up on the floor.

The required...oh hell no.

“Nathan...you know you’re the literally the smartest person I know, and you know I think you’re brilliantly creative and inventive and all that important stuff, but please, please tell me you were not actually doing what I think you were doing,” you muttered.

“I was working!”

“You know I can just check the security footage, right?” you stared him down.

Nathan looked at you over the top of his glasses. “I had to test it and make sure it worked.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Why does a robot have to have working...parts?!” As soon as you asked, you wished you hadn’t. This idiot genius actually had the nerve to blush. Slightly. He would never admit it, but his ears definitely got pinker than they’d been a few seconds ago.

Nathan sat up suddenly and glared at you, adjusting the ice pack again - thank the heavens - to keep himself covered. “First of all, it’s not a robot, it’s an AI. There’s a big difference. And second of all, we talked about this. The point is to make it as human as possible, so this particular part was necessary.”

The glare you shot back at him could have melted his current loincloth. It was your day off and Nathan couldn’t even leave you be for one whole day without his compulsion to cater to whatever whim was in his head and get under your skin. You dropped into one of the lab chairs.

“So...let me get this straight,” you sighed. God help you. But not the God in your cell phone, because he could go fuck himself. Or get fucked. Whichever.

Suddenly, through your haze of utter exasperation, what you’d just thought clicked into place and you snorted a laugh. Your eyes flashed over to the thing in the middle of the table. It was definitely shaped like a pelvis.

Nathan’s eyes became daggers. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

Your eyes went to the thing on the table and to his hands, and then back again. You shook your head, cleared your throat, and tried not to laugh again. It didn’t work. “Sorry. Um. So...what you’re saying is...you got injured because you were...fucking a robot pelvis.”

“I should fire you,” Nathan grumbled.

“And you got injured - from fucking a disembodied robot pelvis -”

“I am so going to fire you.”

“...because it was too...tight?”

“I shouldn’t have asked for your help. I should have just let myself die here, naked and unsatisfied.” He flopped back down.

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. Your laughter rang through the lab, a mixture of actual amusement and horrified reality. You snorted again and that made you laugh harder. Nathan had always joked about making a sex robot. Well, you thought he had been joking, but now, clearly not - and he’d hurt himself in the actual process of trying to make sure it worked. You weren’t a monster, you hoped he wasn’t truly actually injured, but you also took a little satisfaction in knowing karma existed.

After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes and looked down at him. Nathan stared back, but you could see the start of a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you I miscalculated the tension. It was fine--”

“Until it wasn’t?” you wheezed.

“--until it cut off all the circulation to my dick.”

You bit your lip. “Nathan Bateman. You literally cockblocked yourself.”

He didn’t respond right away. But then he spoke, at the same moment you noticed the smirk on his face fully bloom and what you’d come to call his “up to some bullshit” look glimmer in his eyes.

“Are you gonna come help me or not?”

“Excuse me?” You were fairly certain your eyebrows could not go any farther up your forehead.

“Well, I’m not in excruciating, unimaginable pain now, and I’d like to make sure my dick isn’t going to fall off. And I didn’t finish. Need a little help here.”

“You want me to--” you stuttered.

“Un-cockblock me,” his wolfish smile broke out fully now.

You hurled a pen at his head. “You really are an asshole.”

“I admit,” he continued, easily dodging your projectile, “this wasn’t what I was expecting for the first time you saw me naked, but I’ll work with what I got.” He started to remove the ice pack.

Another pen went flying his way. “You know, I’m just going to pretend that you’re not about to flash me with your mechanically impaired penis, and that you didn’t just proposition me, and I’m leaving this room now,” you said, standing up and shaking your head.

“Baby, you’re just gonna leave me hanging here?” he grinned, stretching back out on the floor. He folded his hands behind his head. The t-shirt wrapped bag of frozen peas remained - now perched rather proudly, you noted - on his groin.

A vexed growl left your lips as you walked towards the lab door. “Leaving now!”

“Well could you at least toss me my pants?”

You glanced down. Nathan’s sweatpants were balled up behind the lab door. How they’d gotten all the way over here...nope. Nope. You decided that information was entirely unnecessary.

You threw his pants at him and they hit him in the face with a satisfying whump.

“You sure I can’t convince you to help me out here?” Nathan asked serenely from under the fabric.

He couldn’t see the small smile on your face as you walked out the door. Thank god. Or...God. Whatever. The man was a menace.

“Ask me to dinner,” you called over your shoulder.

“I’ll text you,” he called back.

God.

~end~

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#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #fanfic #oscar isaac characters #my writing

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zaffrenotes · 3 years

Text

[TRR x ES] Viewing Party

Book: The Royal Romance & Endless Summer Pairings: Liam x MC (Katrina Bailey), Drake x OC (Alyssa Devereaux), Jake x MC (Laurel) Rating/Warnings: G; mild innuendo Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Katrina Bailey & Laurel are the MCs I use when writing fanfic for TRR and ES, respectively; Alyssa Devereaux belongs to birthday girl @burnsoslow * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 80: Stop looking at me like that. * Author’s Note 2: * This is a birthday gift for my cheesy, potato loving homegirl Burnsie, who requested her very first Endless Summer/Jake fic, despite having never read any ES fic until now 🙈 for the sole reason being that she and Jake McKenzie are almost birthday twins, and my favorite pilot turns 30 this year. If you’re unfamiliar with canon ES trivia, Jake can hold his breath for 9 minutes, and Estela can hold her breath for an astonishing 14. This isn’t entirely what I had in mind when I set out to write an ES/Jake birthday fic, but I wasn’t about to miss your day because I’ve hit a whole ass writer’s wall, Burnsie! I hope you have an AMAZING day and I’m sending you so many hugs! You’re one of the sweetest ladies here, and I am so very thankful that I can call you a friend 🥰 also my real, real gift to you is coming at a later date, as I still have to work on it 😬 * and yes, that’s DDT in the moodboard - just for Burnsie, again - since I use Barnes as Drake’s FC in my TRR fics, lol * Word Count: 2000 on the dot!

It was nearly 10:00 PM on Friday evening, when Burns arranged things around the comfiest chair in her living room. The rest of her family already retired for the evening, after a small but wonderful birthday celebration in her honor at home. Within easy reach, she’d arranged drinks and snacks next to her laptop - a glass of water, a hot mug of tea, a slice of homemade birthday cake to take care of any sugar cravings, and a small platter of cheese and crackers for something more savory. She grinned softly at the newest addition to her mug collection, watching the steam rise from the contents within.

The lavender mug arrived in the mail earlier that day from one of her friends, emblazoned with a quote from David Rose. Burns took a sip of the warm beverage before setting it down on the small side table and situated herself in the chair. She flipped open the laptop and pulled up a browser window, smiling at a gift from another friend - there was a sticker next to the trackpad with a drawing of a wedge of Swiss, quoting another memorable line from Schitt’s Creek, reminding her to “fold in the cheese.” Burns glanced to the time on the screen and logged in to her Netflix account, clicking until she arrived at the viewing party, and began typing to join the group chat.

She was greeted with jubilant messages from Donna, Ella, Brandy, Anitah, and half a dozen other friends, wishing her a happy birthday before the show started. They’d formed an ever-growing viewing party for a new series titled Stranded in the Orchard, which was an odd amalgamation of Survivor and Gilligan’s Island. Taking a cue from reality tv competitions, there were hidden cameras all over the island to monitor everyone and reduce production crew intervention, and in a nod to Hunger Games, there was an omnipresent host that would drop messages to signal when challenges were about to take place. After four episodes, the ladies in the watching party started picking their favorites from the two teams.

Team Ruby consisted of a group that appeared to have been shipwrecked onto the island. Leo was dubbed The Rogue; his brother Liam was The CEO; Katrina was The Attorney; Alyssa was The Teacher; Drake was The Cowboy; Olivia was The Weapons Expert; Bertrand was The Grump; Madeleine was The Whiner; Maxwell was Bertrand’s brother and The Jester; Hana was The Jill of All Trades. Bertrand and Madeleine had already been voted off when Ruby lost two events.

Team Catalyst consisted of a group of mostly college students. Jake was The Pilot; Laurel was The Mystery Girl; Sean was The Coach; Michelle was The Doctor, even though she was only pre-med; Craig was The Muscle; Zahra was The Engineer; Aleister was The Slick One; Grace was The Brain; Diego was The Entertainer; Estela was The Huntress. Catalyst lost the last two events, which sent Aleister and Grace packing.

Everyone settled in to watch the opening credits as they recapped last week’s episode, where Ruby won the immunity challenge and fishing gear by building a makeshift stretcher to rescue and carry Katrina from a jungle crash site to a first aid station on the beach; Catalyst voted Grace out. Burns popped a cheese cube into her mouth as she and her friends watched the two groups deal with day-to-day chores in their respective camps on Day 14 of the show. They chatted about the team members and how much Burns wanted to see Drake take off his shirt to go in the water, despite the knowledge that there were clips of him cuddling with Alyssa; Donna, Ella, and Anitah would keysmash in the group chat any time Liam appeared on the screen, even though he and Katrina were clearly sweet on each other, while Brandy and Alyssa Lauren would ask what was happening or who someone was from the Catalyst team.

—

“Pillows and blankets are nice, but what we could really use is food,” Maxwell said, drawing an octopus in the sand with a piece of driftwood. “I don’t know how much longer I can last on coconuts and rice.”

“Liam and Drake took the raft out this morning to try fishing with the gear, maybe they’ll get lucky,” Katrina suggested, stirring the pot of rice in the fire. She set the lid on top and stood up from her kimchi squat position, dusting some errant sand off her leg. They both looked out towards the water, as dawn stretched out across the ocean, making out shadowy forms of their friends as they bobbed in the water, just before one of them went under the surface. Behind them, the rest of their friends began to stir awake from the scent of rice cooking.

Back at the Catalyst camp, Jake sat by the campfire with Estela; they were working on making their own fishing gear from bamboo and camp supplies after losing the previous challenge. Jake fed a length of twine through a handmade fishing pole while Estela sharpened tips on one end of a pile of branches she’d gathered. “Whatcha whittlin’, Katniss?”

Estela glanced at Jake sideways. “Stakes. Hand over some of that twine, I need it to bind these to make spears.” With a begrudging huff, Jake unfurled the twine and ran it against the edge of the makeshift bench he was sitting on to cut it, before tossing the rest at Estela.

“How fast can you tie those off? We’re losin’ daylight for a morning catch, if you wanna ride on the raft with me.”

“Five minutes,” she answered, already working nimbly around a branch to secure the whittled spikes.

The screen cut back to Ruby’s camp, where Liam and Drake stepped ashore, smiles brighter than the sunrise as Drake held up a fish trap with small rays flapping against one another.

—

“kjsdhfksjhfksjhfks,” Burns smashed into her keyboard. “Look at my man! With the sea bounty!”

“mevmnbvmnxb,” Ella smashed back.

“How do you know Drake did all the work? Liam’s just as wet, hahaha,” Donna chortled in response.

—

After killing their catch as humanely as possible - with Alyssa turning her face to Drake’s chest to avoid witnessing it - Leo and Olivia gutted and cleaned the rays before setting them on top of their makeshift grill to cook. Liam and Drake regaled the group with their morning under the water, as they took turns fishing.

While Team Ruby enjoyed some protein with their rice that morning, members of the Catalyst team glumly spooned rice into their mouths as they sat around the campfire while Jake and Estela dried off; their morning fishing trip had been unsuccessful.

Later that day, both teams received messages from the host to gather for a reward challenge. Each team made their way to a small lagoon, where they saw a structure floating in the water. A booming voice overhead instructed them to swim out to the structure and await further instructions. Once everyone from both teams had done so, a blue holographic image of the host appeared in the center to explain the rules. “The challenge is simple,” she narrated. “We want to see who can hold their breath the longest. There’s a bar you can use to keep yourself from floating up if you need it. Last one standing earns the prize for the whole team — an overnight trip at the Celestial Hotel, where our rotating film crew goes to rest. You’ll be treated to clean sheets and towels, hot showers, along with a decadent dinner and breakfast menu the next morning, before having to return to your camp.”

Everyone’s eyes lit up at the incentive of a night away from sleeping on the beach, away from mosquitos, rodents, and the threat of being waterlogged by passing storms. Stomachs gurgled at the thought of hot meals that didn’t consist of rice, and the possibility of cocktails or wine. “Oh, we got this,” Jake murmured quietly to Laurel. “Bet I can hold my breath longer’n any of those Ruby kids.”

“Is that so?” Leo taunted, overhearing Jake’s comment.

“Just call me Poseidon,” Jake smirked.

“We’ll see about that,” Leo replied. “You know most of us are from an island, right? We’re basically merpeople.”

—

“Bets! Bets on who wins this!” Brandy typed into the chat window.

“Sticking with Drake,” Burns typed. “Maybe Hana. She could have another random talent up her sleeve.”

“My money’s on Liam. Look how broad his chest is,” Anya replied. “He’s got to have massive lungs to match.”

“That makes no sense,” Ella typed, adding a laughing emoji. “But I’m Team Liam anyway.”

“Don’t hate me,” Donna began. “Something tells me Jake isn’t boasting right now.”

From her screen at home, Alyssa Lauren used Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe to choose Zahra. The rest of the group picked their favorites as the castaways donned goggles and got into the water.

—

“Ready? Set! Go!”

Sixteen heads dipped under the water’s surface, with contestants pinching their noses and puffing out their cheeks as an underwater camera filmed them. A handful of them - Olivia, Alyssa, Maxwell, Diego, and Michelle - tapped out under a minute. As the sand settled, thirty seconds passed before Katrina, Laurel, Sean, and Drake headed to the surface. Just after the two minute mark, Hana, Craig, and Zahra gave up, leaving Jake, Liam, Estela, and Leo under the water.

Jake looked positively peaceful, sandy brown hair swaying with ease in the water. Estela tapped her fingers lightly across the bamboo rod, counting each second as it passed. Liam glanced over to his brother, who’d begun to turn pink. Half a minute later, Leo popped up to the surface, muttering to himself out of frustration.

Three minutes in, Liam surfaced, gasping for air, leaving Jake and Estela to battle it out between themselves. Even though the hologram host blasted a horn to signal the end of the challenge, neither Catalyst member surfaced. Liam ducked down to check on them, and Jake and Estela both signaled that they were fine. Everyone continued to wait as the pair spent minute after minute under the water.

—

“Seriously? They’re on the same team!” Anitah typed. “They won already!”

“They’ve been underwater for a scary length of time,” Brandy added. “What are they, Navy SEALs or something?”

“I think Jake mentioned he was actually in the Navy before,” Alyssa Lauren replied.

—

A digital clock appeared in the corner of the screen as the two Catalyst members continued to hold their breath underwater. With each passing minute, members from both groups began to worry. After eight minutes passed, the host’s voice rang out, advising them to pull Jake and Estela up from the water to end the challenge. Laurel and Craig ducked down, eventually pulling their teammates up. “Congratulations to The Catalysts!” the host exclaimed. “A boat will be waiting at your camp to take you to the hotel.”

Laurel swatted Jake’s arm as they made their way to the shore. “What’s wrong with you!? You were underwater for nearly ten minutes! Who does that!?”

Jake looked over his shoulder to her with a grin, mischievous sparkle in his bright blue eyes. “Ten would be a new record, my best is nine.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Imagine nine uninterrupted minutes of me holding my breath, Princess. My birthday is tomorrow, and I know exactly how I wanna celebrate,” he winked.

Laurel’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion. “Stop looking at me like that, Top Gun.”

—

That evening at the hotel, after a sumptuous feast of lobster, crab, and an endless supply of beer and wine, the Catalyst members eventually went to bed. Much later into the night, Jake was seen sneaking into Laurel’s room.

—

“I KNEW IT!” Burns typed. She laughed as her friends typed in responses full of lemon, fire, pepper, and eggplant emojis. She popped another cheese cube into her mouth and smiled, watching the rest of the episode play out.

#the royal romance fanfic #endless summer fanfic #choices the royal romance #choices endless summer #liam x mc #liam x trina #drake x alyssa #jake x mc #choices crossover fanfic #wacky drabbles #survivor au #happy birthday Burnsie #birthday fanfic #zaffrenotes writes #there was an attempt #this is not what I planned #lol but I am out of time and don't have it in me to scrap what I've written #🙈 I watched an entire season of Survivor for like...3 scenes to add to the fic

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stones-x-bones · 3 years

Text

One For All || Dani and Bex (ft. Kyle)

TIMING: Concurrent with this PARTIES: @surmamort @inbextween and @darkh0wl SUMMARY: While Dani and Bex hang around campus waiting for Kyle, they realize that someone else is waiting for them. CONTENT: Gun use, Suicidal ideation, Death

Bex groaned as she rifled through her bag. It wasn’t here. The one book she needed. She’d left it back in the classroom, hadn’t she? She looked sideways at Dani, who was sitting idly on the bench across from her, before back towards the building. A few moments away from her wasn’t going to hurt, right? There was no way Frank would come after her inside the school during the day, right? The common area outside was only bustling with a few other summer class kids, enjoying the sun that had been gracing the sky the last couple of days. It was unusual for this much sun this time of the year, there was usually so much more rain. Bex remembered how much rain there had been just a week ago, and how that rain had saved Mina’s life. Had saved her own life. She squinted up at it before sighing and standing up. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Dani, then added on, “I just forgot one of my books in the classroom. Promise I’ll be real quick. You can stay here and keep our spots so no one steals our prime real estate.” It was the only table that was perfectly positioned under one of the trees to lend itself full shade no matter what time of the day. She didn’t wait for much of an answer before slipping away, heading towards the school, making sure to take the most populated route possible.

What Bex didn’t know was that she wasn’t the target this time.

The two hunters had been watching them all day. They’d been told the shorter girl would be alone. Dani was her name. Frank hadn’t given them all the details, but he had told them she wasn’t human. One had a pistol with silver bullets drawn, but shook their head. Not beast. The other had an iron dagger, who also could not feel a thing. So, undead, they supposed. This would make things more difficult. Still, the two drew to the shadows as they rounded on the girl, now alone at the bench. The beast hunter, a sturdy, dark-skinned girl, aimed her gun. The first shot was a warning. The second went straight for its mark.

Dani felt as though things were falling into place. It had taken a while to feel that way, especially in regards to her moms. Their reluctance to provide more information left Dani mostly frustrated, and though she knew the gist; her father had been killed in the sake of not wanting to torture fae, she knew there was more behind those documents that the professor had sealed up. But she’d been practically barred from digging further into exactly what kind of research he’d been a part of. Though neither Jeanette or Lauren said it, she felt sure that the professor had been warned. It was a feeling rather than full of certainty, but it was there. It was getting easier to pull herself out of her thoughts of betrayal, and though the anger simmered, there were distractions. Like Bex. When her friend spoke, Dani looked over for a brief moment before dog-earing the manga she held. “Are you sure?” The hunter worried her lower lip as Bex insisted that she’d be alright. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand as her friend disappeared into the building. The brunette set her book face down and stuck one leg over the opposite side of the bench, eyes trained on the doorway for Bex to come back through.

A few moments had passed and Dani nearly missed the sound of urgent footsteps arriving from just behind her. She looked over her shoulder just in time to hear the gunshot ring. The second came fast, but Dani managed to dive to the side, the feeling of rocks scraping her palms. She got to her feet immediately, flicking her wrist to unsheathe the dagger in her hand. “What the fuck? What the fuck--” She managed to two step to the side as another shot rang. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Dani yelled as she spared a quick glance over her shoulder towards the doors. Where the hell was Bex?

It was strange, the beast hunter thought. Why would an undead need to dodge bullets? It didn’t matter, they fell in line behind their warden friend, who took out three small daggers and launched them, one after the other, at the girl. He wanted to see how nimble she might be. Dodging bullets was easy and smooth when you had super hearing or super strength. Judging by her standing in daylight, she was either a zombie, or those special types of vampires his friend had tried telling him about once. He’d had no interest in them, though, and had long since forgotten their names. He didn’t wait too much longer before charging directly at the girl. They didn’t need to say anything, they weren’t here to answer her questions. They were here to cut off her head.

Bex was taking the steps by two-- a bad idea, considering the pain in her side and her leg-- when she heard the shots echo. She’d never heard real gunshots before, but they had such a distinct sound, she knew right away. “Dani?” she said, pausing, stumbling. Gripped the railing, before whirling herself around when a second-- a third-- shot sounded. Dani was shouting, yelling at someone. Bex leapt down the stairs-- oh, bad idea-- knees buckling as she struggled to stay standing and fling herself down the hallway and back outside again. “Dani!?” she called out, watching as two shadows advanced on her. One had a gun. One had a gun. “DANI WATCH OUT!” Magic reaching beyond the distance between them, fear and anger mixing like blood and oil, volatile. It touched the sidewalk, and the bench they’d been on, and the trees as Bex ran towards the three hunters. She hadn’t expected the one with the gun to turn and fire at her. She yelped as it grazed her arm and sent her careening to the ground, hands covering her head.

The knives shot out, too, and Dani felt one slice into her forearm. She suppressed the scream that bubbled in her throat, leaving it in. She couldn’t be sure if it had hit an artery, not when she had to avoid two others. She managed to avoid being sliced by the remaining, but had little time to collect her thoughts. The hunter heard Bex before she saw her. “Go back inside!” Dani screamed back at her friend. When the hunters pushed forward, she felt fear grip her heart. What if they went after Bex? Was this why they were here? Were they witch hunters? She could tell they were hunters from the weapons they carried, but why were they coming after her? One look over her shoulder, and Dani saw Bex on the ground, blood pooling at the small injury in her arm.

It was red, the anger that the hunter felt. It prickled and vibrated in her sternum. It was hard to ignore, the way that it gripped her. Dani hated that Bex continuously got hurt, and for what? Why should her friend continue to suffer?! “Back the fuck up!” Dani shouted again, moving towards Bex who laid on the ground, arms over her head. “Did you fucking hear me?!” She shouted again as the figures continued towards her. She stood in front of Bex, guarding her with her own body. If they wanted to get to Bex, they’d have to kill her first.

The warden kept his eyes trained on the target, watching her falter when a blade sliced her arm. But, soon, she was racing to put her body between them and the girl crumpled on the ground. He hissed at his companion, “We’re not supposed to hurt anyone else!” To which the beast hunter replied-- “We don’t know what any of these people are! She could be with her, for all we know!” She holstered the gun, however, because guns did naught against the undead and she pulled out her engraved, silver dagger. It wouldn’t hurt the undead, but it was refined enough to cut a head clean off. “Let’s just get this over with before someone else shows up!” she growled, and lunged, swinging the blade in front of her. The warden followed suit, ducking in behind her, honing in on the girl on the ground. Frank hadn’t told them about Bex would be here, they didn’t know any better.

When she was sure there were no more gunshots coming her way, Bex rolled to her side and slapped her hand over the wound on her shoulder. Blood pooled over her fingers. She was so goddamn tired of bleeding everywhere, all the time. Of people thinking her life meant so little that they could just hurt her and keep hurting her and not stop. The anger that built inside of her was as red as her blood. Her teeth clenched so hard together she felt her jaw crack. A wind began to whip up in the area surrounding them. Someone was coming at her, but the ground beneath them buckled. Bex was an expert at disturbing the ground, now, whether it was intentional or not. It caved in and swallowed the boy’s foot, and he smacked into the side of the crater hard, his knife skidding a few feet away from his hand. Bex looked at him with so much hate in her eyes, he shuddered. “Leave me ALONE!” she shouted, and it reverberated in everyone around her, inside their heads. “LEAVE US ALONE!”

We’re not supposed to hurt anyone else! Dani’s brows creased. What the hell did that mean? They weren’t after Bex? Dani saw the way that the two hunters looked at her. Their gaze was not unknown. It was familiar, and she knew it like the back of her hand. They were here to do a job, and she was said job. She wasn’t sure what kind of misunderstanding could have led to them believing that she was anything that deserved hunting, but there was no time to reason with them, not when they were pushing in. One hunter was hard enough, but two? Especially one with a gun? She and her dagger were unmatched. The purpose, she knew, was not to kill them, but to keep them down long enough for them to be dealt with. She knew that, so why did she feel so much anger? Why did it course through her, spinning and spooling in the pit of her stomach, forming like electricity across her skin?

Before she could react fully to the pair of hunters, the ground beneath her began to quake. She felt it tremble, and then earth jutted up, creating a hold on one of the hunter’s feet. Dani blinked away the surprise. There wasn’t enough time to ask questions. “Bex,” Dani said, not turning around to look at her friend, “are you okay? It didn’t go through, right?” She continued to stand in front of the witch, her own dagger still drawn. The blade that had been stuck into her arm was covered in blood now. Every move she made stung. She could feel it burrowed into her flesh, but it wasn’t something she could focus on, not right now. “Why the fuck are you attacking us?” She figured they were past reasoning, but she needed to know, especially when the shock of the earth swallowing one of the hunter’s feet was so fresh, leaving a moment to wonder.

The warden struggled against the ground breaking underneath him and trying to swallow him. The other girl was a spellcaster, and that was dangerous. They needed to cut their losses or make this quick. If they could subdue the spellcaster, then they could easily take out the undead girl. His eyes flicked to his companion. “I’ll take the spellcaster, you just concentrate on the target, okay?” The beast hunter nodded and turned her gaze to the girl who had put her body between them and the spellcaster. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she didn’t need to. As a hunter, she’d learned to not ask questions. That wasn’t the way of things. If there was a monster, they killed it. The girl on the ground was screaming at them, and the undead girl was slinging questions at them. They didn’t have time for this, even as she felt her head begin to ring, blood rushing to her ears. “Why the fuck do you think, monster?” she hissed back, before jumping straight at the girl again. If she could go for the legs, cut off her ability to move, then taking her head would be easier.

It was happening again. Bex was watching again as someone she cared about was being hurt. Everyone around her always got hurt. Because of her. Because of her family, her magic, her stupid decisions. They were attacking Dani because of her. Bex scrambled to stand up. Anger was coursing through her but she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t. If she used magic, her mother would know and things would get worse. She reached for Dani, watching as the girl with the knife lunged at her. “Let’s just go!” she called out, tugging on Dani’s arm. “Please, let’s just--” but they were both lunging now. Bex let go of Dani and tried to duck, but the boy caught her off guard and tackled her to the ground, her back hitting hard. Stars blotted her vision as air left her lungs. She kicked and struggled, but he was pressing down on her neck, cutting off her air supply. She didn’t want to use magic. She couldn't, she couldn’t. She reached for Dani. Her anger reached, too. She didn’t want it anymore. She didn’t want this life anymore.

Dani balked as the girl called her a monster. What the fuck was happening? Before she could continue to ask her questions, the two hunters were bounding towards them again. The space was closing in and Dani felt her heart in her throat. Her own dagger dropped to the ground as she instinctively reached up. “NO!” Dani screamed as the boy lunged towards Bex. Dani ignored the second hunter and immediately recoiled from the blade that came her way. She punched out with her good arm, palm curved enough to catch the nose of the girl, enough to make blood begin to gush as it connected with the cartilage. Dani had to get to Bex. She turned just in time to see the boy on top of her, his hands at her throat. “BEX!” Dani screamed as she dove towards them. As soon as she connected with Bex’s touch, anger flooded her unlike before. It was red and sickly.

It made her head spin. It filled her head and she saw stars. It ran in tendrils down through to her fingertips. She itched to close her hands around his throat, to squeeze until life left him. She wanted to do to him what Frank had done to Bex, what her mothers had done to her, what this horrible fucking world had done to every single person she’d ever cared about. “NO!” Dani bellowed again, immediately ripping the blade that the girl had flung into her shoulder. Blood spurted, but not enough to make Dani worry-- not enough to make her care. But God, it hurt. It was a searing pain and it was numb, but she moved forward. She did what she did best; she ignored her pain. She swallowed it whole. All she saw was red. The blood on her hands, the red in Bex’s face. Dani reached forward without realizing what she was doing. She tackled the boy off of Bex and wrestled him to the ground. Her own blood pooled onto the two of them, swelling and dotting his white t-shirt rouge. Dani didn’t have the time to recognize the familiarity in her movements, or the way it felt wrong, or the way that the fear had reached his eyes as he realized that these would be his last moments. Dani plunged the knife down into his heart, just as she would any vampiric kill. Only he didn’t turn to dust.

Bex? Wasn’t that the name of the girl Frank had told them he was helping? Why was she here? The beast hunter faltered. Blood gushed from her nose. It was a move that cost too much. She reached for her friend. “Lucas, wait--” but it was too late. The undead girl was pouncing on him, wrenching him from the girl on the ground-- from Bex-- and her fists pummeled him and then there was a knife. “NO!” she screamed, lunging for them. But it was too late, again. The knife plunged into his chest so deep and so loud she heard bones crack and muscle tear as the blade penetrated his heart. In her fury, she tackled the other girl off him, rolling with her as fists came down. “YOU KILLED HIM!” she shouted, fighting to remove the knife from her hand. “You monster, you killed him!”

The warden gurgled blood on the ground, grasping at air, at something that wasn’t there. Bex wheezed and huffed and tried to blink away the black, tried to catch her breath, too. She heard him choking on his own blood. She rolled onto her stomach and crawled over to him, hands pressing against the wound on his chest. Whatever these two had done, however angry they had made her, she hadn’t wanted them to die. She hadn’t meant to be so angry. She hadn’t wanted Dani to kill for her. She didn’t want anyone to kill for her. “I-it’s okay,” she stuttered, but she knew it wasn’t going to be. So did he. She saw it in his face, and suddenly she didn’t see him and it saw Frank instead. He reached up to her, pushing her away. “I h-hope i-it was w-worth it,” he stuttered through blood pouring from his mouth. “W-was she, w-worth it?” Bex didn’t know what he was talking about, she couldn’t get the image of Frank out of her head. Why couldn’t she make it go away? “Tell Frank…he was wrong…” Bex shivered. “Frank? What about him? What are you--” but she knew. She knew. She was seeing Frank because he was seeing Frank. The realization set inside of Bex’s stomach like stone. Her gaze turned up to Dani, still struggling with the other hunter.

“S-stop,” she stuttered, “Stop!” she stood up from the warden, her hands covered in blood. He was dead, now. He’d died because of her. Because of Frank. Because of his delusions. She had to get to Frank before he got to Mina again. “STOP!” she shouted and her magic reached out and touched the two alive hunters’ minds and told them to stop.

The rage burned. It had made her feel as though her chest were going to concave, as if her bones would turn to ash, replaced by nothing but the red. The red on Dani’s hands, what spilled down the front of the boy’s shirt. She saw it everywhere. Even though it was still an evening blue, the sky seemingly had blistered into something sickly, too. Her hands were still around the blade that’d been thrust into the hunter’s chest, but she made no move to get off of himt. Not even when she heard the female hunter bellowing behind her. She stared down, shock and horror creeping as if a shadow down her throat, blooming and growing until it was pressed against every part of her. The fury stayed, it stayed hot and loud and Dani could barely listen to the pain in her arm, or the back of her head as she fell to the ground from the launch of the second hunter.

Dani acted as if made of mechanics, her bones and skin and blood-- it all floated before her. There was somebody on top of her and they were trying to wrestle the blade away. They were calling her a monster. What had she done? They had called her a monster before, when-- Dani blinked away the tears as she struggled against the hunter’s hold. They were stronger than her in this moment, because truthfully, Dani wasn’t sure what was left of her now. She still felt like she was floating. Until she was sinking. Until it felt like every root from every tree held her down, gripped her throat and squeezed. Until her chest felt heavy and the blisters of anger burrowed so deep that she wasn’t sure they’d ever be removed. She couldn’t turn her head, or look at Bex. She stared up at the second hunter who hovered above her, seemingly in the same hold. She tried to look at Bex, and she tried to make a noise, but all that came out was an animalistic cry as she caught sight of the boy who was dead on the ground. She could see his shirt, it was covered in blood. Bex’s hands were, too. She thought about her and Morgan’s conversation. Dani wanted to scream, to reach out, to wipe away the blood, to pool it into her hands, to make it go away. Only she couldn’t. She was frozen, forced to face what she’d done.

First, Kyle’s shower had run long. He was listening to a good playlist and he didn’t get out until the water started to run cold. And then he took forever to get dressed. He wanted to look at least a little presentable for his friends. Just a little. It wasn’t like Bex and Dani knew him to be on time, so Kyle wasn’t exactly worried when he hadn’t heard from them. They knew he’d be there. And he was! Except, when Kyle came strolling across the campus, he heard sounds of a fight or a struggle or something. He felt a pang of anxious worry flare up in his chest, but he squashed it down. It was a college campus, it was bound to happen that there was some yelling somewhere. But when he heard a shout that sounded suspiciously like Bex, that anxious feeling gripped him tight and wouldn’t let go. Kyle quickened his pace at first, trying to remain calm until he knew what was happening, but broke into a sprint as the screams continued. Like, an actual we’re fighting to the death kind of racket. He couldn’t mistake it for playful banter.

Kyle was still running at top speed when he came up on the scene; Dani was pinned beneath someone and they were both covered in blood, Bex was similarly covered in blood and it made sense it would be her own, there was a third blood soaked party, unmoving on the ground. Kyle didn’t have time to process, he didn’t have time to think more than to just breathe. He tried to run through the calming mantra he’d heard Bex whisper to herself before, but the coppery scent of blood--his friends’ blood--filled his nostrils. Before he could consider all courses of action, he was throwing himself at the person on top of Dani. He bowled into them, gripped them around the middle and sent them both rolling, end over end, sideways and off of Dani.

Bex stumbled backwards when Kyle was suddenly racing by her and tackling the other girl off of Dani. All she could think about were the images the other hunter had in his mind. Frank had sent them here, had told them to kill Dani. He had lied to them. They thought Dani was a supernatural. He was coming for her. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to kill Mina. He was going after her, first, and then he was coming for Bex. But her mind stuck on Mina. He’d already tried once, and Mina was now weaker for it. She was still recovering. But if he wasn’t here yet, that meant there was still time. She could make it to Mina in time. Bex felt her anger, her fear, her panic return to her in droves and they told her to move, to go. She didn’t say a word as she stumbled past the dead warden on the ground, she didn’t say a word as Kyle tussled with the other hunter. She didn’t say a word as Dani sat frozen on the ground. She just ran. She just had to get to Mina. Mina was the only thing that mattered now.

The beast hunter tumbled. She’d been too distracted by the image of her dead friend-- laying but five feet away from her, beating down on the monster who’d killed him-- to notice the second monster coming her way. She felt him first, glancing up just in time to watch him ram into her. They tumbled head over heels for a moment before she got her legs placed on his chest and kicked him away. He was some sort of beast, it made the hairs on her arms stand on edge. She went to pull her silver blade out, but realized she was way outnumbered, out matched. She eyed the beast, pressed low to the ground. Would he follow her or would he go to his friend? She had to hope he’d be too distracted with her. She took off away from him and towards her friend-- her dead friend. Scooped his body into her arms and looked back over her shoulder at the other two. “You’re a monster,” was all she said before she took off. She needed to get her friend back to his family. They’d want to bury the body. They’d want to know how their son died.

Every move Dani made reverberated throughout her entire body. The pain in her shoulder was more noticeable now, and even as she shifted, her arm fell limp at her side. The adrenaline, fear, and rage that coursed through her veins was still loud. It ate at her. She continued to stare ahead of her, before she was shifting her attention back to the hunter who had been knocked off of her by somebody. It had happened so fast that Dani didn’t have the time to rationalize what was happening, or figure out that Kyle was the one wrestling the second hunter to the ground. Finally, Dani managed to sit up. Everything moved slowly, and even though she knew everything was loud-- the screams that circled them from a few onlookers that managed to spill out of the school, it was all quiet. Blurred. As if she were under water. The body next to her laid eerily still. Dark eyes stared up at the sky unmoving. Dani shook her head and tried to crawl towards it, but fell short as her arm gave out from beneath her. She slumped down to the ground, her good shoulder digging into the dirt. “No, no, no, no,” Dani slurred, her voice hoarse. She hadn’t done that. That wasn’t her.

She heard a noise behind her and then somebody was stepping over her to get to the body, to the boy she had killed. The female hunter bent down and picked the boy up with ease, but not before shooting a quip her way, not before confirming what Dani had feared, that she’d been the one to do it. She hadn’t remembered the feeling of the blade in her hand, or the way it felt when she had ripped it out of her arm. Everything hurt now, it was hard to ignore. She shook her head. She was covered in blood. Her own, as well as his. “No,” Dani panicked as she tried to clamber after the hunter. “No, he’s--” She choked on her words as she attempted to get to her feet, to follow after them. She fell again, the pain shooting through her as she stumbled into her bad shoulder. Stars splintered across her vision and vibrations found their way into the soles of her feet, the palms of her hand, the back of her mouth. She felt it all, all of the red, all of the grief, the anger.

Kyle had the wind knocked out of him as he fell back from the hunter’s kick. He reeled for a moment as he tried to breathe. He looked up at her from beneath his eyelashes as she stood, his pulse pounding in his ears. He balled his hands up and clenched fistfuls of bloodsoaked earth as he willed himself to calm down. Every inch of him, every instinct, willed him to shift and not let her escape. She had done something to his friends. She had hurt Dani and Bex. The thought of his friends pulled him out of the tunnel vision he was sinking into. As the hunter retreated, he whipped his head around, eyes searching for Bex. He spotted her as she fled. As worried as he was, all he could think was how stupid it was for her to be alone now. He pulled a fist from the ground and slammed it back down. He struck the earth with all of the force of the frustration he felt. He could feel his knuckles split; hear his bones crunch on impact. He didn’t care. He needed to make sure his friends were okay, that they were alive, that Dani--Dani.

Kyle shoved himself to his feet, stumbling a moment as he forced his lungs to work properly again. Breathe, just breathe, he told himself. He rushed to Dani’s side, trying to assess what was her blood and what wasn’t, but there was so much of it. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispered, though if that were directed to her or to himself, he couldn’t be sure. “Come here.” Kyle placed a hand behind Dani’s knees, and one against her upper back. “Okay, Dani, I need you to stay with me.” He’d definitely heard people say that in movies, right? That’s what you said here, right? He tried to swallow down the anxiety that held firm in the pit of his stomach. That couldn’t happen right now. He couldn’t think about losing her. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? We have to get you--,” where? Where could he take her that made sense, that would be able to take care of her, that would keep her alive? “--out of here. Can you--are you--Dani, are you human? Do you want to go to a hospital?” Fuck, what if she wasn’t human? Didn’t matter, he’d figure it out. He didn’t pause long enough for a response. He didn’t want one. “I’m gonna pick you up,” he said again, voice shakier than it was before. “One, two--”

Dani barely registered when Kyle knelt down beside her. She could still hear the screams. There’s so much blood! Somebody call an ambulance! Everything felt far away. Even as Kyle was speaking to her, she heard it through something else, as if her ears were blocked. Where was Bex? Dani tried to twist, to get away from Kyle as he picked her up, but she couldn’t move. She slumped against him as she felt herself being lifted into the air. She could see the ground moving beneath her, but she couldn’t tell why. “Bex,” Dani murmured, her voice small and broken and twisted, coming out nearly unrecognizable. “Where is she?” The hunter kept her eyes open out of fear that she’d see the dead boy. His dark eyes were burned into her vision. She felt Kyle’s arms around her. They felt wrong. She didn’t deserve comfort or care. She deserved to burn, to bleed. But she was too tired, too tired to fight it. She felt sluggish as she turned her head, forehead pressing against Kyle’s chest. How much blood had she lost? It was impossible to figure out what was hers and what was the hunter’s. She could feel the rise and fall of her chest, ever so slowly. She felt herself being shifted and suddenly she was no longer in Kyle’s arms. She was in a vehicle. She could feel the hum of the engine throughout her entire body. She stared at the door handle as she slumped against the window. She wondered if she should pull on it, let herself spill out onto the road. Instead, Dani closed her eyes.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #one for all #chatzy: dani #chatzy: kyle #suicidal ideation tw #gun tw #dani #kyle #frank

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

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Letters (part 2)

As Obi-Wan and Satine continue their written correspondence in the back half of their Hogwarts career, their bond strengthens to the point where it might not strictly be platonic.

ao3 link

Fifth Year Summer

Dear Ben,

I GOT MY MENTORSHIP REQUEST APPROVED! I’m going to be a peer mentor this upcoming year! Oh, I know this is going to be another responsibility when we’re already saddling quite a bit with OWLS and our duties as prefects. While it was your initial idea to join, I have no regrets. If I’m to influence the minds of thousands from the Ministry, it will do me good to have practice on a smaller and more impressionable scale. Besides, far too many first years are led astray in my opinion. Having firm and caring guidance will be most beneficial.

I hope you can write to me with the same news, even if I still believe you are pushing yourself far too hard. Just please consider your own mental health for this upcoming term. You’re already wound tighter than anyone I know. I would truly not like to partake in the bets that Fives and Echo make behind your back about when your head will explode. I believe either myself or Cody would win. We know you best.

Speaking of being wound tight, I have been dedicating my summer to the practice of enchanting muggle objects as per our homework assignments. Turns out, it truly is not that difficult. I’ve been careful not to alter anything that would come into contact with other muggles, but I look forward to showing you the results of some of my recreations. Between you and me, I’ve been constructing some that were not on the instructed list.

You’re not technically a prefect yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi, so don’t even think about making a wise remark about how you could see me in trouble.

Yours Truly,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I, too, just received confirmation that I’m to mentor a first year this upcoming school year! Regardless of your speculation and wariness, I stand by my decision. We will be kept busy, but idle minds mean time wasted. If you hadn’t agreed on principle, I don’t believe you would have signed up right behind me. As for my extracurricular activities, pretending as though I am not stressed in the slightest about the prospect of the coming year is futile, but I hope to work through it and to become a better student as a result of it. My father has relented on training by Quidditch form. There are bigger things to worry about such as OWLS, which is why I’m to be locked in all summer. No complaints there- I’d much rather read.

Speaking of reading, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books you snuck into my trunk. Yes, I found them and they were quite a welcome surprise. A bit of relaxing education is just what the doctor ordered. Not literally, because I loathe visiting my family’s practitioner. He takes the term “witch doctor” to new levels and I will leave it at that.

You’ve always been far better at charming objects than I ever have. To be fair, I still don’t have a full understanding of what certain muggle objects actually do, but I’ve got most of the list marked off by this point. While I promise not to report you for deliberate rule breaking, I do admire your gumption. I hope you’ll one day let me see what you’ve crafted. You know I adore learning the novelties of the muggle world. I believe last we spoke, you were telling me about ‘computers’.

As always, I’d love to know more. You have a manner of speaking that simply can’t go unnoticed, at least not to me.

Best,

Obi-Wan

Fifth Year- Winter

Dear Satine,

I apologize if this owl reaches you at an indecent hour. I know how you are about your beauty sleep. It’s been strange being back home, even if for a couple of weeks. It’s only made me realize just how unreal this year has been in terms of excitement and mystery. Though I do not blame the boy for any of it, I won’t lie that it was a much quieter school without Anakin Skywalker present. I wouldn’t change any of it, of course. I believe I am making a difference in working with him. He has a bright mind, if he chooses to use it.

I still can’t get the vision of him foaming at the mouth on the floor out of my head. There’s no doubt that someone has it in for him. I can only imagine who. While eccentric, Anakin is still just a child. He’s harmless.

At risk of drastically changing the subject- my true reason for writing was to thank you again for the watch. My parents have ingrained in me the importance of writing thank you notes regardless of the nature of the gift. However, this might be the first time the sentiment has felt important in action. It may sound ungrateful, but a boy can only receive so many tie clips before he starts to sound a bit robotic in his delivery.

However, please note that every word I say, I mean through my very bones. I hope you didn’t take my silence at receiving it to be anything less than breathlessness. You always keep me guessing, Satine Kryze, and I would have you no different. I am still in awe every time I catch a gander at my wrist.

You did a marvelous job in transfixing and refurbishing it. Seriously, it is of no wonder that Charms comes easier to you than it does to me. Had I not known otherwise; I would have assumed this watch was always crafted with the intention of being magical. Even if it were just a standard watch, it would still have meant more to me than anything I’ve received simply because it came from you. My friend. I’m not sure I deserve it.

I suppose I’ve no excuse for fear of being late any longer, now do I?

It’s never coming off!

Obi-Wan

Dear Ben,

I’m no longer, by any means, insinuating that the boy is trouble. Or more accurately, I don’t believe he’s cognizant of these omens. What concerns me, is Qui-Gon seems to believe that a dark time is upon us. He won’t share his suspicions outright, but I can tell just by how he talks to Anakin with a certain level of wonder and curiosity. Surely, you see it too.

Even still, I say, when school starts up, we try and start our own investigation- off the books and away from Anakin, of course. We needn’t worry him more than he already is. Perhaps while Gryffindor has the field for Quidditch practice we can better research. There’s been too many strange occurrences this year for it to all be coincidental. I’d argue this is the tipping point.

We can further discuss a game plan back at school, but at risk of hurting feelings and potentially endangering lives, we should keep this between us.

I am, however, glad to hear you enjoyed the watch ♥

Yours,

Satine

Sixth Year- Summer

Dear Satine,

I received my OWLS results today as I’m sure you did the same. I wanted you to hear from me, personally, that I am, in fact, alive and well despite what I received as scores. I’m surprised at how alive and how well, quite actually.

For some context- I received all O’s in everything… With the exception of Arithmancy- of which I got an E. I’m not positive where exactly I went wrong in studying for it. I don’t recall the exam being particularly difficult. It’s never been a prized subject of mine as you well know, but I’ve always delivered nothing less than near-perfect marks.

My parents took the news surprisingly well. As opposed to blaming me for slacking off or being distracted by frivolous things such as friends… They were in support of me. In fact, they’re positive that the school is deliberately discriminating against me. I think it might have to do with the recent revelation regarding Anakin being the chosen one. They’ve been much kinder to me and the choices I’ve made as a result of my association with him. Where they believed I was wasting my time, I apparently “saw” what they couldn’t- even if my decision to mentor Anakin had absolutely nothing to do with the matter.

I still have not yet mentioned my pursuit of becoming an Auror. You have to space this kind of news out when you can. They’ve supported me on this, but I’m not sure they’d take that in stride. My parents have been itching to have me become a lawyer or a politician for as long as I can remember.

How were your scores? I’m sure you did brilliantly. I should know, I studied alongside you during all of this madness. I’m eager to properly celebrate with you when we next meet. My mother asked me where I’d gotten the watch the other day and I exclaimed that the brightest witch of my age crafted it for me personally… She assumed it was Ventress, but you’ve always thrived in the chaos of being underestimated, now haven’t you? I will never make that mistake.

Truly,

Ben

Dear Ben,

Don’t you ever scare me with such a dramatic introduction ever again! I nearly had a heart attack, assuming you’d gone and failed your OWLS in a fit of insanity. Given how unusual our fifth year was, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it had another anomaly to toss our way. I thought I was going to have to portkey to you and shake the living daylights out of you for being so foolish.

You landed on your feet, as you always do and seem to make it look incredibly easy to those that do not know any better. We’re matching, actually, except my E was in DADA- likely during the practical session when I wouldn’t cast that Sectumsempra spell. To have us perform such an act on a defenseless animal is cruel (even if it was a spider), particularly in the name of ‘testing’. If they must endorse the epidemic of violence, can they not simply provide test dummies?

I’m actually surprised I scored that high, since the instructor looked at me like I had ten heads. I spoke to Cody today. He passed, despite how hard he doubted himself. We both knew that he would do fine, of course.

Ventress has been around a lot more frequently, hasn’t she? I know that she’s been quite displaced ever since Dooku’s outing. She’s quite smug and entitled for someone who hardly does anything aside from being an errand girl to a Sith terror. I’m sure she’ll be continuing her tricks this year. To think your family thinks you could be as shrewd and awful as her.

How is Anakin this summer? I contemplated sending him an owl just to see how he was processing the more recent revelations, but it would most likely sound more from the heart if it came from you. You were truly excellent with him this year, if I hadn’t already mentioned it. I know I convinced you to break away from the status quo and lean into your desires to become an auror, but you’ve got a real knack for teaching and seeing the best in people. It’s truly one of your best traits. That, and the fact that regardless how much of a mess you are, you always manage to look pristine from head to toe.

Actually, that last bit is borderline infuriating. I hope to see you before the summer lets out. I understand why that might be difficult, but it seems with your parents’ investment in Anakin, you might have a valid reason to be away from the homestead more often. If you understand what I’m saying.

Best,

Satine

Sixth Year- Winter

{A draft from the desk of Obi-Wan Kenobi}

[Boldened text in parenthesis] = out loud thoughts

Dear Satine,

How do I say this without sounding like a damn fool? You kissed me!

It’s been brought to my attention by literally everyone that we have a certain noticeable chemistry. [Why am I saying what everyone else thinks when I should be saying what I think?] Usually, when we are together, we argue. A lot. Sometimes, I’m surprised we haven’t strangled each other yet by how heated some of our debates become. You have this ability to get under my skin in a way that no one else possesses. Truthfully, I love [Too strong! Don’t go scaring her off now] truly appreciate that about you.

But there are times when I get this feeling… And it’s come on more and more the longer I know you… Like we could get beyond the possible strangulation phase and onto something… Better. [What is wrong with me?] You challenge me and I think sometimes I’m able to challenge you as well. I think having people in your life that push you to be the best you can be is a sign of true companionship friendship. You’ve become a constant in my life that I wouldn’t shake even if I could. Looking back, it’s only natural for me to grow feelings for you.

Where I tried to convince myself those feelings were simply an intense comradery, I cannot deny that I do not notice how the light casts on Cody’s hair or linger on him as he walks away [Blast that makes me sound like a pervert] wonder what his hand would feel like in mine. My heart doesn’t quicken if Cody touches my shoulder or laughs at one of my jokes. Cody doesn’t sit incredibly close to me at the dining hall, but if he did, I would be more confused than completely entranced. Cody is my other best friend, but my entire day is not made or broken by seeing him smile.

I wouldn’t be jealous if the seventh year boys decided to notice that Cody was beautiful.

And you are disarmingly beautiful, but I’ve always known that, even if I try to ignore it.

You can imagine how terrifying all of this is to realize at the remarkable hour of 3 in the morning- a mere 3 hours after you decided to kiss me under the mistletoe. How am I supposed to think of anything else now or ever again? Which leads me to think [Don’t be presumptuous] wonder… If you share these feelings. And if you do, we’ve got quite a predicament there. Because if I could blissfully convinced myself that we could never be, I’d be able to bury that deep within me, but even the idea of hope that you could see me in that light… I fear that would be all too tempting. The evidence says that you might. You’ve always been a better investigator than myself, but I can’t shake this feeling that we have these spellbound moments where everything slows down. And it’s just you and me. During those moments, everything is alright.

Usually, when I’m troubled as I am now, I do not hesitate to reach out to you. You’re my co-conspirator, my fellow prefect, my best friend. However, given the situation, that’s not very easy to do. Even if Qui-Gon speaks of it like it is . I wish it were, because now all I can imagine is the mark you’ve left with your kiss. It’s the same sort of feeling I get every time I touch the face of the watch you gifted me last year.

Should I ever muster up the courage to send this letter to you, which I definitely shouldn’t, because you deserve the sort of man that would bare his heart in person, please understand that while I’ve dedicated my life to studying magical text, I’m not nearly as well-versed in the subject of love. Since I’m so certain you’ll never read this, there’s no point in denying that it’s anything less than love.

Love,

Ben

Seventh Year- Summer

Dear Ben,

I wanted to ensure that you were on the road of being okay, all things considering. I tried to wait to give you space, but I couldn’t make it more than a week without knowing you weren’t going mad locked up in that house of yours. I’m not even positive you’ll write me back, which is infuriating, but understanding since Qui-Gon’s passing is not one to be taken lightly by anyone, but especially you. I wish I could alleviate the pain you must be feeling in any way.

I’m relieved just a little bit, knowing that Anakin is in your care. It was very surprising of your parents to offer him refuge, as he’s currently got no one else to possibly lean on. Hopefully the two of you can find some solace in each other during these difficult times. I care for both of you very much and my heart aches knowing I am virtually helpless in making this any better. I know you are likely placing an immense amount of pressure on yourself to distract you from addressing your own mentor’s death, but while your parents might encourage this behavior, it’s not a true way of coping. You need to let someone in.

Stay safe. Do not hesitate to reach out (no matter how cliché that sounds). Even if you talk to Cody instead, that’s fine. Just… Don’t lock yourself in that head of yours and go rogue. I’d miss you far too much.

With Love,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I’m not okay, but I’ll have to be soon. Anakin is safe and on the same boat. I’ll write later with a real reply. I’m not quite in the spirit right now. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t gone completely mad in absence.

~Obi-Wan

Dear Satine,

I’m sorry to be writing to you so late in “true” reply. I’ve been quite busy with Anakin this summer. It has been helpful having someone else around. While a gray cloud still seems to follow him around, I’d say he’s faring better than expected. It’s alarming how resilient the boy is, but also incredibly depressing that it needs to be that way. We’ve discussed the matter of Qui-Gon’s death a couple of times. While you won’t like this, I think there is some closure to knowing that Anakin’s attacker, who became Qui-Gon’s murderer, is dead.

Meanwhile, I must confess that it still haunts me every night. I haven’t said anything to Anakin, because like you rightfully assumed, I’m not about to unload that burden onto him. He feels it’s his fault just as much as I do. We’ve taken to playing Quidditch outside. My family owns several acres of land, so we are able to get out of earshot every now and then. Anakin actually gets on quite nicely with my parents, which is a massive relief. Getting back to school for our final year will be a good way to get back into routine. On the other hand, I’m dreading trying to attempt adjusting to a school without Qui-Gon.

I suppose studying my brains out for the NEWTS alongside you will provide for ample distraction. You, alone, are admittedly very distracting. I am referring to your character of course. A general statement.

There’s always Quidditch, unfortunately, which isn’t nearly as fun and carefree as playing with Anakin in the yard. Despite how massively competitive he is? He’s just turned 13 and he’s loads better than me already. I still hate the flying aspect.

I’m writing you, of course, because we just got notified that I’m to be the Head Boy to your Head Girl. This incredibly tragic time has truly made me appreciate the people I have in my life. You are, without a doubt, shining at the top of that metaphorical list in bold and underlined print. I wouldn’t be Head Boy had it not been for you.

A lot has changed thus far, Satine, and I’m growing tired of being afraid. Life is too short and it’s always going to throw negatives at us- some that are absolutely debilitating. However, there is always the light, which has made me think that perhaps this year, some changes don’t have to be bad. There are many things I’d like to discuss with you, in person. Because this sort of conversation should be the kind that happens face-to-face.

Would you like to meet before school?

Truly Yours,

Ben

#obitine #Obi-Wan Kenobi #satine kryze #the clone wars #star wars #hpau #magical forces au #fragments of the garden

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springday-aus · 3 years

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SVT’s Jeonghan: Love, War and Everything Between || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus

Moodboard Link: Created by Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Yoon Jeonghan

Other Characters: Nu’est’s Baekho [known as Dongho], Seventeen [Seungcheol and Jisoo, along with idiot squad!Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan], and more to be added along the way!

Genre: historical, romance, drama, royal!au, arranged marriage!au + gender role reversal

None of this is even remotely historically accurate. This is all purely fiction!

Type: series

prologue || part 01 || part 02 || part 03 → to be available! check the progress on our upcoming page!

Word Count: approx. 2.6k

Plot Summary: Korea’s most distinguished military general arrives home, carrying back glory and honor from the war. However, the general has been revealed to be a woman! Due to the prominent military accomplishments you have made as the highest ranking general, by orders of the Empress, you are arranged to be married to the second-eldest prince, Yoon Jeonghan. Only one problem lies between you two: your reputation as a ruthless killing machine, which scares the living daylights out of your new husband.

→ Inspired by: the Chinese drama, Oh My General (also known as The General Above I Am Below)

Warnings: graphic violence, glorified war, murder, sexual harassment, sex discrimination (mainly against women), poly-relationships (i.e. concubines), political corruption, and homosexual tendencies

It had taken six months for the final battle to commence, and three full years of ruthless war, before they finally conceded. Needless to say, the new recruits were lucky to be under your jurisdiction. Had they not, the body count would have been much higher.

Your grip tightens on the rein of your horse, feeling the guilt and anguish wash over you once more of those who have fallen. While it is inevitable to lose soldiers in war, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less.

You take a small breath in, calming yourself once more and settling back into the reality.

The war had begun in the fall, whereas now, it is well into the summer season. You close your eyes, feeling the sun shine warmly on your skin. Taking another breath in, you open your eyes once more to take in the sights.

White butterflies dance over the grass, teasing flowers as they move along. The flowers are in full bloom; even the dirt path, which was once wet and muddy, has patches of grass that pop out from the cracks. While you have traveled to many areas, you were never able to take in the sights—well, at least, the less violent ones.

Ah, war. Politicians may declare war as much as they please, but they have yet to have seen how it destroys the average person—even a general as distinguished as yourself.

“General?”

“Yes,” you say. “What’s wrong, Dongho?”

You don’t look back at him, but you can hear his horse’s footsteps catch up to yours—slowing down to remain a couple of paces behind.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

You smile to yourself. “Rather sentimental.” You turn to him. “When was the last time we ever allowed ourselves to take in nature like this?”

His smile reflects yours. “I believe it was the last time we had been called to fulfill our duty.”

You click your tongue, with a disapproved shake of your head. “We need to go on these outings more often.”

“Well,” Dongho starts. “It’s hard to go on leisurely walks as one of the nation’s most notable figures.”

“And this is why you’re my second-in-command.” You let out another sigh, a bit longer than the previous one. “It’s hard to roam around with such a large target on your back.”

“In hindsight, you are very skilled in many areas. Whether it’s swordsmanship, archery, or taekkyon, only a suicidal fool would challenge you.”

“A suicidal fool, such as yourself?”

“Yes, General,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m a suicidal fool, who has yet to have learned his lesson.”

Dongho has been by your side for as long as you can remember. The two of you lived as neighbors, and evidently best friends, for ten years. When your father and brothers died, there was a brief separation period until you turned fourteen—in which you had met again, when you were starting your military training on request of your grandfather.

Since then, you two trained together, side-by-side in combat for the next twelve years. You rose the ranks together—you as the General and he as the military counselor.

You hear a groan from your left side. “Are we there yet?”

“Kim Jisoo,” you call. “You should know by now how long these journeys are.”

Your bodyguard playfully scowls at you. “Pardon me for being used to having company on these trips.”

From beside her, Namjoo, your other bodyguard, directs a punch to her sister’s arm. “You speak as if I’m dead.” She makes eye contact with you, before rolling her eyes at her sisters antics. “Father would be upset had he heard your inauspicious words.”

Lieutenant Kim worked alongside your father and you’re lucky enough to have him by yours as well. He’s like another family member—practically a close uncle, who is more than aware of your peculiar situation. Along with Lieutenant Kim came his two daughters, Jisoo and Namjoo.

Because he spent all of his time in the military, so did they. They learned as he taught and trained the other soldiers, including yourself and Dongho. Then, when the time came, you gave the both of them the bodyguard positions.

Of course there was protest, especially from their male counterparts who wanted their positions. While the Kims had a good laugh, there were also rumors that spread on your part—you had become known as a playboy, who became desperate for female attention while serving in the military.

Eventually, those rumors had been shut down, considering how your military contributions outweighed the gossip that spread due to envious soldiers. Your status easily overpowered theirs (lack thereof) and you dealt with them... accordingly.

(No one died, but it didn’t mean you didn’t cause some emotional trauma for them. You were nicknamed the Devil for a reason).

But, alas, this is also the root of your predicament.

“You aren’t the company I was referring to,” Jisoo says.

“If you’re referring to those pretty boys back at the capitol,” Namjoo says. “You might as well be the dead one.”

You chuckle at their banter. Jisoo is right (although you would never tell her): it would be nice to have a pretty boy by your side. But, with the current conditions, you know it would only be difficult for him.

Granted, this would be made a burdensome situation for you as well—the only difference being that you’re made of the tougher materials in life and will not hesitate to kill a man when crossed against.

Their banter fades into the background, with Dongho attempting to separate the two before the duo of sisters suddenly becomes solo.

You look up at the bright and clear sky once more, enjoying the moment of peace before the storm strikes.

It’s been about three days before you determined a stopping point, in order to set up camp for the evening. Your soldiers have been on rotation since then; you figure that they should get a well-needed break.

You smirk to yourself. The joke’s on them, considering how the lower ranks are the ones who actually set up: the tents, the cots, the fires.

The sun has already set for the day; the moon shines brightly and the stars twinkle against the evening sky. It’s truly the countryside; in the city, you don’t get sights like these. Too much pollution and such. It only means you and your soldiers still have a long road back to the capitol.

A long sigh escapes you as you stand outside your tent—naturally, with Namjoo on one side and Jisoo on the other.

“What’s wrong, General?” Namjoo asks.

Jisoo turns to you. “Is something bothering you?”

You let out another sigh. “It’s less of a bother and more of a concern.”

“What kinds of concerns?” Jisoo asks. “Could we be of any help to you?”

“Considering we are your protectors,” Namjoo adds with a pointed look.

“And your best friends,” Jisoo says.

“Female best friends.”

You crack a small smile—one that rarely showed during this period. “When do you think…” Your words trail off, trying to find the correct words. “When do you think this charade should be over and done with?”

Namjoo blinks wordlessly, not seeming to understand your question.

“What do you mean, General?” Jisoo asks. “Are you referring to…? Possibly…?”

“When can I fully become (Y/N) rather than just a general?”

“You’re not just a general,” Namjoo says. “You have risen up to become the General. The one who serves and protects your kingdom best.”

“It’s not that I’m dissatisfied with my accomplishments. I’m proud of them, but I would prefer them to be my own rather than the son of the (Y/L/N) family.” You laugh inwardly at your own words.

Son. What a joke.

You did what you’ve had to, but, what was the real cost? The countless men you have killed? The women and children who were left with no one to care for them in this patriarchal society?

What about your own life? What would life had been like, had your father and brothers not been killed? Would you have been married off to a family as well? Or would you still be in the military, serving with the other soldiers like now?

There’s a moment of silence and the two struggle to find their words—whereas you’re left again to your own thoughts.

It’s Jisoo who speaks first. “I want to tell you it would all be okay and things would remain the same.”

“But?”

“But it won’t.” She tilts her head up, the stars shimmering in her eyes. “Things will be hard and things will be difficult. And, whenever you make that decision, we’ll be right here by your side.”

Namjoo elbows you with a mischievous smile. “Just as we have always done. We pride yourselves as your protector.”

Your smile grows. “That’s a relief to hear.” You turn away from them, taking a step back to push back the fabric of your tent to take a step in. “It’s too late to back out anyways.”

“Too late for what, General?” Jisoo asks.

Your head turns to her and your smile doesn’t waver. “The letter has already been sent.”

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “What do you advise us to do now?”

The King sits at this throne, setting down the newly passed message from General (Y/L/N)—only to come in view with the court.

While he may not be downright angry, he is well aware of how the court may feel. He is also unsure of what will result in his best military general, especially since the war is not exactly over and done with—considering how King Wu may still hold resentments due to the aftermath.

He glances at the letter once again, feeling his head throb. Why did you have to choose now of all times?

Just moments ago, the second messenger from your troops arrived—announcing his arrival and reading the letter aloud for the rest of the court to hear. Upon the King’s request, he had left the letter to the King, still in shock with the present state of affairs.

General (Y/L/N) is a woman.

“Your majesty,” Official Chun says, stepping out from his spot.

“Accepted, proceed.”

“It is unacceptable for a woman to be of such a high position, nevertheless a man’s rightful position. I propose we remove and replace the General.”

Official Lee steps out. “Your majesty.”

“Accepted, proceed.”

“If I may remind some of us here that we are forever indebted to the General. We continue to be so, considering the current circumstances. While he—” He pauses, before correcting himself. “While she may be a woman, she is of the (Y/L/N) family. Not only have they been loyal to the throne, serving our country for many years, they have made many great sacrifices.”

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says.

“Accepted, proceed.”

“Official Lee is correct. We cannot just remove the General.” He pauses, not before glancing at Official Chun and his followers. “The war might be over but we still have to be alert. Allowing her removal is the equivalent of death for our country.”

Sensing Chun’s anger from the indirect remarks, Official Mae steps out. “Your majesty.”

“Accepted, proceed.”

“General (Y/L/N) is a woman. A woman with too much power shall be the root our demise.” He glances at the other side, spotting those behind the Vice Premier. “She must be put into her place before she gets too ambitious.”

Official Song steps out. “Your majesty.”

“Accepted, proceed.”

“From what we are aware, the (Y/L/N) family does not have any male heirs. Considering the circumstances, we cannot afford to replace her when there are still repercussions of the war to be settled.”

“Your majesty,” Official Chun starts to say.

However, the King puts his hand up, pausing the conversation from continuing any further. He has already made his decision: you were to keep your position. Your accomplishments have stacked up, leaving the entire country indebted to you and your trained troops. Your reputation in the military is the most impressive—no one can be compared to you.

Although, it might be too unsettling for the officials for you to remain in your position. There must be some punishment—some kind of way to appease the court while you can still maintain your position, but not harsh enough for you to refute.

“General (Y/L/N) is to keep her position,” the King announces. He continues, shutting down any more possible verbal opposition. “Our country is indebted to the General. She has obtained previous territories that have been lost in previous battles and she has won countless wars, including the one we have just won. Replacing her would only lead to our doom and, even then, we have no suitable replacement.”

Official Jeong steps out. “Your majesty.”

“Accepted, proceed.”

“I believe that’s a wise decision, as expected from our King.” He swallows apprehensively. “However, we cannot leave her be. After all, she has deceived us—including you. What shall we do with her then?”

The officials murmur and whispers are passed around. Removal is too drastic for the King, therefore an execution is already off the table. No one seems to have any ideas of a possible punishment.

That is, anyone from the court.

While the officials scramble for an idea, the Empress’ eunuch, Eunuch Hak, shuffles himself from her side to the King’s throne.

There’s a hush that falls over the court officials.

“The Empress requests an audience,” Eunuch Hak whispers to the King.

“Accepted.”

From behind her golden curtain, the Empress lifts herself from her spot and gracefully walks towards the court. Her head is held high with elegance and her footsteps are light—almost as if she’s gliding. The officials bow their heads as she walks between them, no one daring to look up at her.

She stops in front of the throne, smiling as she looks up at the King.

“Mother,” he says. “How do you suppose we deal with this predicament?”

“I am proposing a marriage.”

The whispers start up again, unsure of what the Empress is trying to plan.

“Your highness,” Official Kwon says. “To whom do you think the General shall be married to?”

Her smile grows. “I believe that the second nephew is the most suitable candidate.”

“Second nephew?”

“She doesn’t mean—”

“The second prince?”

The King straightens in his seat, intrigued with the idea. “You are proposing a marriage between the most distinguished figure in Korea and Yoon Jeonghan?” He takes a small breath in, leaning back with a cocked eyebrow as he contemplates the idea.

Official Jeong speaks up once more. “Your highness, can you elaborate more as to how this is a suitable punishment?”

“If you ask me, it’s explanatory,” Official Chun mumbles under his breath.

Official Mae smirks at the comment, whispering back. “Prince Yoon is nothing more than a joke to the royal family.”

The Empress lets out a small sigh, proceeding to pretend as if she didn’t hear the rude comments about her grandson.

“It’s not about punishment.” she says. “It’s about balance.” Seeing the apprehensive look from the King, she continues. “Jeonghan is rather unorthodox. He spends much of his time dancing at the brothels and admiring artwork rather than martial arts or sports.”

There’s a murmur of agreement amongst the officials.

The Empress takes it as a sign to continue. “While he is a healthy man with three lovers, he is still uncommitted and unmarried. If the two were to be married, it can help solve the problems that are occurring for both parties.”

The King nods silently, but awaits for the court.

“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says.

“Accepted, proceed.”

“Her highness makes a good argument. I agree.” He thinks for a moment. “Not only would the General be married off to produce a male heir, but the rumors of Prince Yoon could also settle down once he’s married.”

“Your majesty,” Official Lee says.

“Accepted, proceed.”

“I agree with her highness and Official Kwon. This is more advantageous on our part,” he says. “I mean no offense when I say this, but Prince Yoon’s reputation is rather…” He pauses. “Unfavorable, at the moment. The General can help with that change and his with hers when the news spread in the villages.”

“Your majesty,” the Vice Premier says. “Shall we proceed with the marriage then?”

“Yes, we shall,” the King says with a nod. “From this day, we shall begin the wedding preparations. Once the General arrives back to the capital, Prince Yoon Jeonghan will become her husband.”

The Empress moves herself to the sidelines as the King stands up, causing the officials to stop in their spots and lower their heads once more. He steps down from his throne, starting his descent down the stairs and onto the path laid out for him.

The Vice Premier follows him from the right and his majesty’s eunuch, Eunuch Boo, follows him from the left—their conversation continuing in hushed tones.

The Empress leaves shortly after the King’s departure with Eunuch Hak on one side and Court Lady Nam on the other, leaving the officials with themselves.

“Court Lady Nam,” she says. “You shall inform Princess Consort Yoon.”

“Yes, your highness.”

She turns to her right. “Eunuch Hak.”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Begin the wedding preparations.”

A/N: As always, thanks for reading! Please don’t ask for updates. If you would like status updates, check out the upcoming post we have with upcoming works that will be posted!

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Island Dreams - Chapter 3

Hi all and welcome to chapter 3.

So, thing are starting to happen and, alas, angst has decided to come and pay a visit. I used HoF for a bit of inspiration.

Some Gaelic for you: suidh sìos - sit down

The light issue at the very beginning: Yes, in Scotland, in the summer, it can get quite difficult to sleep. Day are super long and it's easy to have light until late and back again at 3am.

I have read it twice before posting. But I had a very long day at work and if I have left some typos I apologise.

Happy reading!

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Aelin had woken up early that morning. She had forgotten to close the curtains the previous night. She had gotten home quite late from her trip and she was grateful that the supermarket stayed open until late because she still had to buy food for the house. She had whipped up a quick dinner, a shower and then she had tucked herself on the chair in her room. It was so bright outside that she could not force herself to go to bed. Eventually tiredness caught up with her and she gave up. Because she forgot to close the curtains, now it was broad daylight even if it was just 4am. She rolled on the other side and tucked her head under the pillow and went back to sleep. She awoke again two hours later. Apparently the adrenaline of being in a new place was too much. So she got up and decided she could go for a run. She donned her running clothes and she left the house. She had spotted a place called Lews castle and from the map it seemed the perfect place for a run in a park. Aelin followed the marina cut through the town centre, passed Rowan’s shop and ended up near the river. Then crossed the small bridge to reach Lews’ castle grounds. Quickly she took a mental note of the fact that the place was a museum and added it to the list of places to visit, which by the way was getting longer by the minute and kept running a good hour until her body started to protest. The day was gorgeous again and they were blessed with a stunning blue sky. Aelin ran found her way back to a road that took her on a pier along the sea. Finally decided to sit at the bench and relaxed a bit, taking a full mouthful from her water bottle. In London she had little chance of running in parks so she had to use a gym but here… she could run in the nature and it made all the difference.

A few elderly people greeted her as they passed the bench and that was something else that stunned her. Complete strangers greeting her. She removed the headphones from her ears and decided to listen to the sounds of the place around her. She had always considered herself a die-hard city girl. Someone who could never leave the hustle and bustle of the big city. Her soul craved the frenetic life that London gave her. And now, in her early thirties, with her life completely upside down and on pause she was starting to realise that things had changed so much from when she was young. All of sudden her priorities had turned and a quiet life was all she wanted. She needed to slow down. Her ambition had helped her to secure a position quite high in her job. But that ambition had not helped her to reach the top. She had literally given her life to her job. She had sacrificed so much and it had been all for nothing and came to the realisation that she felt lost. For the first time in her life she could not see the path ahead. And that was why she had left. To try and live day by day for a while and learn to enjoy life again hoping that life in a quiet place like Stornoway would give her purpose again. “Oh Aelin, stop maudlin.” She told herself, getting fed up with the dark twist her thoughts had taken. She sighed and stood and started running again, tracing her path back to the town centre. Eventually went back to the house, took a shower and an hour later she was ready to head off to Maeve’s for breakfast. She was quite eager to taste her cakes. The woman had given her a slice of a chocolate cake the day before and Aelin had admitted it was of the best cakes she had ever tasted.

Twenty minutes later she reached the coffee shop and was happy to see that it was open. It was just about 9am and wasn’t not sure yet when life on the islands actually started. “Madainn mhath” she said, feeling like an idiot for her horrendous pronunciation. Once she noticed the shop was empty she felt better. At least she did not embarrassed herself in front of an audience. “Oh, Madainn mhath, a Aelin.” Said the woman from behind the counter “Are you here for breakfast?” Aelin took a seat at a table near the counter “Yes, but not Scottish breakfast this morning. I don’t think I can survive it tow mornings in a row.” Maeve laughed “I made some lovely apple turnovers, fancy one?” Aelin’s mouth began watering. If they were as good as the cake… “Make it two. I went for a run and I am starving.” Maeve disappeared through the back and came back a bit later with a tray with a mug of coffee and the apple turnovers. “I am going to get so fat.” She said out loud and then began tackling her breakfast and listened to the music in the background. It was a female singer and she sang in what Aelin was positive was Gaelic. Rowan was right. It was such a beautiful language and sung was even better. “Who is the singer?” “She is Julie Fowlis. She is from North Uist and sings mostly in Gaelic. She is a great singer.” The tune was slow and it seemed quite sad. “This song is called Mo Dhòmhnallan Fhèin, and it means My own Donald. It’s a sad love story.” “It’s beautiful.” She commented and corrected herself quickly “The language, I mean, not the sad love story.” “Ask Rowan and he will give you plenty of suggestions of bands you can discover if you want to listen to locals or Gaelic singers.” The woman explained and took a seat in front of her sipping her own cup of coffee. Aelin had such good vibes from the woman. She was very maternal to her and towards Rowan as well. She was curious to know more about their relationship. Something told her that it was deeper than it seemed. “And if you are still here in July you cannot miss Heb Celt. It’s a wonderful festival of Scottish music. It’s a three day event but it brings people from across all of Scotland and oversea as well. “It sounds wonderful.” “You just have to stay a bit longer.” Aelin sighed “I have been here only a day and I already feel as my soul has been stolen by these islands. I…” she paused, she felt like she could talk to Maeve. “I left my life in London for now. I needed a break before crumpling down for good.” Maeve put a hand on Aelin’s arm “As I told you yesterday, this is the perfect life. Island life here is a cure for the soul.” Said the woman squeezing the arm gently “Want to talk about it?” Aelin took a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts “Big job delusion and a bad divorce.” She did not have the mental strength to go into too much detail. It still hurt too much and Lysandra was the only person with whom she could fully talk about her life. “I feel lost and stuck.” A flicker of deep tenderness appeared in Maeve’s eyes “Sounds like you and Rowan could help each other.” Aelin whipped her head in the direction of the woman and stared at her. “He is stuck too.” That’s all Maeve volunteered. The woman stood as soon as a customer entered the shop. She greeted the man and they began a conversation in Gaelic. Aelin was staring at her empty plate and was still pondering about the comment that Maeve made about her nephew. What did she mean by they could help each other? And why was he stuck? She wanted to know more but could not ask him. He seemed like the very reserved type and she had no intention to pry. Once her plate was clear and breakfast over, she stood and was about to leave when Maeve reached her and gave her a take away cup “Could you please bring this to Rowan? He should be opening his shop now.” “Of course.” Aelin said her goodbyes to the woman and left, taking the path to Rowan’s shop. She had to buy the next books in the series anyway so she was just catching two birds with one stone. Once she got to the shop she noticed it was open. She entered and Rowan was at the counter working on the computer. “Madainn mhath.” She tried again. He looked up and noticed her and a brief and quick smile appeared on his lips but not genuine enough to reach his beautiful green eyes. “Morning to you.” He replied almost annoyed. “I bring coffee. Courtesy of your aunt.” Aelin offered him the cup but the reaction she got from him was unexpected. He glared at her “What did you say?” “Coffee from your aunt?” “How do you know Maeve is my aunt?” His tone was now tinged with anger. “She told me.” He ignored the cup of coffee and continued working as if Aelin was not even in the shop “She shouldn’t have.” “Is that a secret?” “It was not her place. And it’s definitely none of your business.” Rowan was mad. It was clear from his facial expression, but she could not understand why such a statement would make him so mad. Aelin placed the cup on the counter with a bit too much force “Don’t worry she did not reveal any big secret. Your fucking perfect life is safe.” He slammed the pen on the desk at her tone “What do you want? You delivered the coffee, your job is done.” Aelin was now fuming.”What do I want?” Her tone dripped vitriol. If he wanted a fight, she was giving him one. “I was being nice.” She put the backpack on her shoulder, ready to leave “I was here to buy the next books in the series I got yesterday. I came here to thank you as well for the suggestions you gave me yesterday because I loved every place you recommended." she took a deep breath and tried to calm her fury "And while I am here how do you say asshole in Gaelic?” She noted his reaction and she knew she had gone too far. That was her bloody problem, she had no filters and sometimes she struggled to connect brain and mouth before speaking. Something she had become pretty good at doing during her many fights with Chaol. Not her proudest moment. He left the counter and went to the shelf where she got the book the day before. He came back a moment later with three books in his hands “I don’t have the last one. I can order it.” “Leave it. I’ll order it on Amazon just to piss you off.” She really had to learn control herself. She took another deep breath “Fine, order it.” He didn’t comment and started typing on the computer. “It should be here in a week. I’ll let Maeve know. You are best chums now.” There was irritation in his voice. He was actually mad at her. “You should expect to see us skipping arm in arm around Stornoway singing bawdy songs pretty soon.” He did not like the joke. Definitely the wrong crowd. “Try and get laid. It helps the mood.” She added and hated herself seconds after it once she remembered what Maeve said. He was stuck too. “I am sorry…” Apologising right away for her horrible comment. She was a bloody idiot. “It’s £21.50” he said flatly and with no emotion in his voice. His eyes were cold and it looked like he could kill her with a stare. He kept the bag with the books for a moment and leaned forward on the counter “Don’t you dare to comment on my life ever again. You are a customer. Nothing more. You are nothing to me.” Aelin felt like crying. Yes, she had been nasty but Rowan was being cruel to her on purpose “There is nothing I can give. Nothing I want to give you.” He added when he noted her hurt expression. Then Rowan finally passed her the bag with the books “Now get out of my sight.” Aelin took the bag in silence and left the store. She walked away and left her feet to lead her. She did not notice she was back at the marina. She found a quite spot on the pier and sat down, her feet dangling. And then the tears came. And she cried. And the tears turned into heavy sobs. She took the phone and called Lysandra, but when the woman did not answered she hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head on the knees as if to try and hold the pieces together. She was tired. And for a moment she just wanted to disappear.

Rowan was fuming. How dare she? She didn’t know anything about his life. How dare she make such a comment? He closed the store and walked quite angrily to his aunt’s coffee shop. She loved to gossip a bit too much and wondered what she had told Aelin. When he reached the shop he was glad it was not busy, that conversation did not need and audience. “Good morning, darling.” Maeve said in a cheery voice, unaware what was about to hit her. “What did you tell her?” His aunt looked at him with a confused expression. “Aelin. The new girl. You told her you are my aunt. What else did you tell her about my miserable life, eh?” “Rowan, suidh sìos.” Her tone had a hint of command. Her face lost the loving and caring side and Rowan knew he was in trouble. So he obeyed her and sat down at the table like she commanded. “I did not tell her anything. I just told her that you are my nephew. I did not know that was a secret.” She was definitely not happy about him. Maeve sat down in front of him “What did you do?” He looked away, shying away from the conversation. Maeve sighed “Rowan, she is going through a tough moment in her life. Be nice to her. Be nice to each other. She seems like a lovely woman. Why don’t give yourself a second chance?” He still did not answer. “She is just as lost as you are. If you only stopped being mad at the world all the time, she might be the person to show you the way back, both of you.” He was stunned by his aunt’s words. It sounded like Aelin and Maeve really had become good friends already and that his aunt already knew a good deal about the woman. But there was no way he was letting anyone else in again. Not after… he pushed the name away. Even after almost a year it still hurt too much to talk about her. No, he was going to live the rest of his life on his own and on his own terms. “Don’t interfere.” He finally managed “It’s my life. I’ll decide what is best for me. And if my destiny is to become a lonely, grumpy old man, so be it.” He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands cooling down his anger. “I know you still hurt because of what Lyria did. But it has been almost a year…” “Don’t…” he hissed “Don’t ever say her name in front of me. Ever again.” “Rowan…” Maeve put a hand on his arm but he pushed her away. Maeve stood and looked at her nephew stone faced “Mrs MacIver asked me if you can order these for her grandson. It’s his birthday quite soon.” And she passed a note to him. “Fine.” He took the note and stood. “Find the way back, my darling.” Maeve said to him once he was at the door. He ignored the comment and left without a reply.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fluff #angst #throne of glass series

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shinidamachu · 4 years

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No Place I Would Rather Be

Summary: We're a thousand miles from comfort. We have traveled land and sea. But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be. Word Count: 3.617 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

Boredom was eating him alive.

Days had passed without a single lead about the jewel fragments. So much that their little group had disbanded for the time being. Sango went back to what was left of her old village. It had been a while since she last paid homage to their dead. Kirara, of course, was her loyal company — and also ride. Miroku was visiting Mushin’s Temple, as if the place hadn't been profaned enough, already. Shippo was still around, but keeping his distance due to InuYasha’s stormy mood.

The frustration of it all got him desperately wishing for some kind — any kind — of action. Something that didn’t involve sulking under a tree and watching time crawl. Every second of this idleness meant another second Naraku was out there, still breathing. Collecting the shards was a small mean to achieve a bigger, imperative ending. It gave him purpose, a sense of getting closer to his ultimate goal step by step. Waiting got them nowhere. It only granted him to be alone with his thoughts and the combination was nothing but disastrous.

Lucky for him, his private source of distraction was not too far away.

Kagome was humming a foreign tune, the same one she liked to sing whenever she was happy. Following the melody was almost mandatory. InuYasha didn’t realize what he was doing until he arrived to the other side of it, where the girl thumbed through her hair in a futile attempt to tame her hair, the lake’s surface a natural mirror at her convenience. InuYasha made his presence known before his own reflection joined hers.

“It’s no use, ya know.”

“Jerk!”

The girl glared at him and retaliated by splashing water on his direction — of which he easily dodged. InuYasha had to admit her reaction was justified, given his past tendency to be utterly unkind to her. This time, however, although his tone wasn’t devoided of casual teasing, he was being completely honest. When you spend sunrise to sunset with someone for so long, it was inevitable learning a thing or two about them. Kagome had a wild hair. Not in a bad way, but it sure had its own will. Especially in the humidity, which was definitely the case of that afternoon. To an outside viewer, the strands could pass as straight. Noticing the shy waves at the end and how they used to stand out after getting wet was a privilege for the few allowed to look closer — a privilege InuYasha cherished. She always had her hair down and he liked that she did. It was destined to be free, to go with the wind. And it had grown a hell of a lot since they first met. The half demon wondered if Kagome was aware of how much. He certainly was.

Then she got up, revealing clothes that were undoubtedly new to his eyes. It was one piece, all lime flowers and malleable fabric against her cream skin. A bit longer than what she usually cared to wear, but leaving her arms and shoulders at plain sight in compensation. The view was thrilling, until his eyes caught the yellow backpack laying by her feet, causing his grin to falter. He understood the implication behind it, even if the question had yet to pass his lips.

“What’s with the weird kimono?”

“Oh, this.” Kagome lowered her gaze, inspecting for herself. Her combative attitude swiftly turning into a cautious posture. “It’s a sundress. I’ve been meaning to ask… can you please give me a ride to the well? I’m going home.”

There it was.

Somehow, getting his suspicions confirmed did nothing to prevent the scowl from forming on his face.

“Thought the school thing were over for the summer.”

“Well, yes...”

“Then why the fuck ya going home for? We still have plenty of supplies!”

“Because I promised I’d go to the movies with Hojo and now that we’re on vacation I don’t have excuses not to go, anymore. My grandpa literally ran out of diseases I could have. And what’s the point, anyway? Jewel hunting is going through a dry spell, everyone left… and I haven’t seen my family in weeks.”

Half of what she said didn’t make any sense to him and InuYasha positively hated the half that did.

“What if something comes up? I can’t see the damn shards like you do.” He argued.

“You jump through the well and get me.” She shrugged, as if the idea was highly unlikely. InuYasha opened his mouth to list the many, many reasons her solution was flawed. She bit him to the punch. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. I’ll be back tomorrow. I bet Miroku and Sango won’t even be here yet.”

It wasn’t fair.

In general, storming off to her era was Kagome’s way of punishing him for being a massive asshole. He got that. To tell the truth, more often than not he deserved it. But InuYasha was in his best behavior — despite feeling rightfully entitled to throw a tantrum, given the circumstances — precisely because he needed her close. He needed her to stay. Picturing Kagome hanging out with someone else instead was the worst kind of self torture. Would she change her mind if he swallowed his pride long enough to say so? Would he ever get the guts to let it out? She hadn’t invited him to come along. Was this Hojo guy really that important to her? More than InuYasha was? Trying to talk her out of it was a dangerous move. He’d put his foot in his mouth, she’d put his face on the ground. That’s what they did.

Either his expression betrayed the turmoil inside or Kagome became too good at figuring him out. Whatever it was, her smile shined, reassuring and warm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be so quick, you won’t have time to miss me.”

“Who says I’d miss ya?” He dismissed, his indifference unconvincing even to himself.

InuYasha perceived another presence approaching. Shippo. His arrival couldn’t be more providential. Kagome had a soft spot for the brat. If anyone could get her to stay, it was him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just the runt.”

Like he had been announced, the kid emerged from the trees in a hurry, Kagome’s bow and quiver looking gigantic on his tiny hands.

“Kagome! InuYasha!”

“Shippo-chan! What’s going on?” She asked, as soon as the boy reached them.

“There are rumors of a jewel fragment, two villages to the west.” He explained, with the pomposity the information called for. “Kaede sent me.” His chin was up high, like the statement added a final hint of importance to the message. “Here,” continued the kit, offering Kagome her weapon in a formal manner.

She hesitated.

“Kagome, let’s go!” InuYasha was prepared to move at the sound of the word ‘jewel’, their earlier argument happily buried and forgotten.

“Wait! Don’t you think it’s strange? For days we had no leads, and now, just when we splitted up…”

“Yeah, well, so what if it’s a trap? It wouldn’t be the first.”

Coward that he was, Naraku resorted to the nastiests schemes in order to get what he wanted. His disgusting fingers laid on every happenstance that had ever caused them harm. What choice did InuYasha have, though? Ruse or not ruse, he had to check it. Regardless of anyone else’s help, it was his duty to get vengeance on the bastard — for Kikyo, for himself — and Kagome knew that.

She sighed and took the bow and arrows from the fox’s hold.

“Thank you so much, Shippo-chan! Now can you do me another favor?”

“Anything!”

“Go back to Kaede. Tell her InuYasha and I are on our way.”

“I’m not coming with you?” He whined, as confused as InuYasha. They never traveled without the child.

“That’s right. We don’t know how dangerous this may be. I need you to stay and if we don’t come back tomorrow by noon, get Miroku and Sango and send them to us. Can you do that for me?”

Shippo resolutely nodded .

“I won’t let you down, Kagome.”

“I know you won’t.”

And through the same path he had appeared he went. Kagome fixed a pleading glance at InuYasha.

“Can I at least change clothes before we g—”

“No time to waste.” He said, grabbing Kagome and her bag to leap towards west.

Kagome was whistling that same song again.

It took him an enormous amount of self restraint not to whistle along.

He was happy. So wonderfully happy. It was astonishing, the effect that tiny, bossy human girl had over his humor. The fact they were following the possible whereabouts of a lost jewel piece also played a role on his attitude swing, there was no denying that. But even if this turns out to be nothing at all, it would be a small price to pay in exchange of spending more time with her.

“Weren’t you mad about not coming home just now?”

His curiosity was genuine. Kagome had been angry since they left and InuYasha would be the person to know. She had two kind of anger. The one he could hear and the one he could feel. Even though she had been unusually silent, her frustration was palpable at first. Mercifully, it seemed to fade away the more ground they covered. Her one complaint was the soreness that too many hours on the same position inflicted upon the muscles, which was why they were both walking. As a rule, he was strictly opposite to anything that might slow them down, and the human pace was unbearable once you had a taste of demonic speed. Running free, with trees and people alike turning into a blur on each side of him, was an unparalleled sensation, amplified tenfold whenever Kagome was riding his back. He didn’t regret giving in, though. They weren’t far from their destination, after all. In addition, her comfort came to be a priority, despite him still being unaware as to when or how.

“Well… yeah, but… what can I do, right? Besides, I haven’t realized how much I missed this.”

Clueless, InuYasha searched their surroundings, unsuccessfully intending to spot what she could possibly be referring to.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“This!” She spinned around, open arms and face to the sky, chasing daylight like a sunflower, the movement bringing her garment to life. “You. Me. An adventure. Don’t get me wrong, I love Shippo and the others, I’m glad they joined us. It just feels like we haven’t had as much quality time together as we used to, after they did.”

“Y-you miss that?”

She shook her head up and down with enthusiasm and a content smile fought its way across his lips.

“I know we could hang out in Kaede’s village, but it’s not the same as going out. O-on a trip, I mean.”

Although InuYasha couldn’t make out why her cheeks were suddenly burning red, he did see the logic her reasoning, and the feeling was mutual. There was a certain level of closeness only the road could provide. No curious eyes. No sly comments. No need to explain themselves. InuYasha had missed that as well.

He often played with the thought of stealing her away, of placate his selfish thirst for her undivided attention. Not once had he imagined Kagome would be as eager to go as he was to take her. Regardless, the timing wasn’t right. It never was. From the moment they met, they were tossed into a mission and there was hardly space for anything else. So he settled for whatever he could get until it was over.

“Why would you miss those trips? It ain’t like I was nice to ya back then.”

It didn’t make sense to him that she would. His memories were of a spoiled little girl, complaining about the bugs and her aching legs and the fact she hadn’t bathed in days. There was no escaping InuYasha’s share of responsibility on the issue. He could have made her life easier, had he bothered to. But at the beginning he saw Kagome as a potential threat he would eventually get rid off. How could he have guessed, after the many betrayals he had endured through the years, that his heart would be safe on her hands?

Kagome limited herself to a shrug.

“You are now.” She stated, as if it made up for his unexcusable former behavior. Her unconditional forgiveness amazed him, no matter how regularly she had shown it to him. “Also, it feels like old times.”

“It doesn’t unless you get kidnapped, somehow.”

“It happened once or twice!”

“Keh! Stop kidding yourself.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No, shut up. I’m sensing a shard and it’s moving away.”

Wordlessly, InuYasha returned the backpack to her and offered her his back.

They raced at full gallop, Kagome guiding their course. The forest transitioned into arid highland, where dirt, thorns and rocky surfaces took place.

“Hey, you!” Kagome yelled at the youkai emerging in their camp of vision. Their target. Over his shoulder, the startled creature sneaked a peek at them and increased speed. Growling, InuYasha matched his rhythm. “Wait up! We won’t hurt you.”

“I’m pretty sure Imma hurt him.”

“Give the jewel fragment to us peacefully and you’ll be free to go!” She went on, his snide remarks as ignored by her as her plead was by the demon. InuYasha’s patience was wearing thin. Now that the rumors turned out to be true, his focus was entirely aimed at the task at hand.

“Are those fancy arrows of yours just for show?”

Kagome let out a deep breath. Shooting was her last ressource. She preferred to sort things out with words first. It rarely worked. Still she always tried.

“I suppose we have no choice.”

The arrow hit the creature in the calf and his groan of pain reverberated through the field. Not lethal, but enough of a nuisance to make him drop the run. InuYasha closed the distance between them within seconds. Kagome climbed off him and together they inspected their opponent.

On the floor, a possum demon hissed and exhibited his fangs at them, his ugly face twisting in agony while he pulled the arrow out. A cascate of blood immediately flowed from the wound. InuYasha was not fooled by it. Being a full youkai, he would be healed soon.

“Where is it?” InuYasha asked Kagome, not daring to leave the bastard out of his sight.

“His belly.”

“Step away, you filthy half breed!”

“Excuse me?” Kagome defied, any trace of courtesy forgotten.

“That was quite the damage she did on ya, there.” InuYasha released Tessaiga from its sheath as he approached the fallen man. “Think I can top it, though.”

“Step away, I said!”

His fear was palpable. InuYasha could feel it. See it. Smell it.

Smell it.

Faster than realization, the odor filled his lungs. It burned his nostrils, his throat. He could taste the toxic substance on his tongue. It was unbearable. And gasping for air only resulted in the pungent scent flooding him further, overwhelming his senses. A defense mechanism, he thought, his vision blurring, his knees giving in. I’m going to faint. No. No, no, no, no, no. Kagome. He had to protect Kagome.

There was a cry of his name.

And then an awful lot of darkness.

InuYasha came to abruptly, uncertain and alarmed by the new reality.

In one minute, the sun was up and he was succumbing, his consciousness leaving him to drift. In the next, he was awake and crickets sang the night’s arrival.

It was tempting to think he had dreamt the whole thing. A stupid, ridiculous, crazy ass dream. However, the lingering smell left no room for argument. It happened. The scent was weaker. Fading. But was there, overpowered by a significantly nicer aroma. A familiar one, sweet on the nose and soothing to the soul. Kagome’s.

He was lying half naked in her sleeping bag.

Sitting up, InuYasha seeked for the priestess, desperate to make sure for himself she was safe and sound.

The fragile light of her modern lantern illuminated the cavern that sheltered them. At its entrance, a girl rested — her silhouette contoured by a starry sky.

“Kagome.”

“You’re awake!”

She rushed to him, tripping over her own eagerness. Her beautiful clothes were dirty and a bit ripped at the hem. A small scratch cut her cheek, remnants of dry blood tainting her skin.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine!” Kagome kneeled in front of him, a gesture he appreciated. There was no peace for him without an up close inspection of her well being. “I purified the demon after you blacked out. Turns out it was a trap. Thousands of Naraku’s second-class demons came for the shard when I took him down. I tried to purify those too, but more of them kept coming and I ran out of arrows, so I casted a barrier and—”

“You casted a barrier?”

InuYasha was beyond impressed. Barriers required great power and discipline. Even from Kaede or the monk. Kagome had apparently done it all by herself. Effortlessly. On the spot.

“To be honest, I don’t know how I did it. I just… I saw you lying there and I… anyway, the barrier purified the ones who touched it. Eventually they all died or left. How are you feeling?”

InuYasha didn’t answer the question.

“I’m sorry, Kagome, that you couldn’t rely on me.”

Guilt pulsed within him like a heartbeat. Constant and compulsory, expanding the outcomes of its work through every inch of his body.

“It’s not your fault. Your nose is too keen, of course you’d be affected the most.”

“But you got hurt!”

“In the thorns. I was careless. Don’t worry about it, it’s not even going to leave a scar.”

“It shouldn’t have even happened. I’m supposed be the one protecting you, not the other way around.”

It could have been worse. InuYasha should be grateful for that. He wasn’t. It could have been worse. And he wouldn’t be able to help her, to save her from this insignificant peril while she had already saved him in every conceivable way there was for a person to be saved.

“I’m not as helpless as I used to be, you know? I’ve grown a lot.” She had a point. InuYasha himself had told her that much, once. Kagome had faced scarier dangers than that. And she could absolutely take them. But he didn’t want her to have to. “Not to mention, it was totally worth it.”

As a proof, she exhibited a jewel fragment, glowing in the healthiest shade of pink.

“You got it!” InuYasha captured the shard, glancing at every angle of it in awe.

“Don’t act so surprised.”

Kagome went for her backpack and came back, falling on her knees again. Her hand dove in and emerged holding the glass container in which they kept the other pieces. She opened it and tilted the receiver to InuYasha, hinting for him to do the honors.

It was as if she had been waiting for him so they could do it together.

As if it was their private, sacred ritual.

He did as she wanted, mirroring her satisfied smile.

“Where’s my haori?”

“Oh! I… I put it away.” Blushing, Kagome tore her gaze from his and InuYasha followed it to a corner of the cave, where a huddle of scarlet fabric laid forgotten. “I figured you’d heal faster with that smell gone and your haori is soaked on it. Sorry.”

“D-don’t apologize, stupid. It was the right call.” To feel useful — and to occupy his brain with something other than the image of Kagome undressing him — InuYasha searched her backpack for the first aid kit, a tool from her era he was sadly too intimate with. “Now let’s take care of this cut.”

“Okay. You have to g—”

“I know what to do. I’ve seen you do it a thousand times.” Her lips parted, and InuYasha added: “Don’t act so surprised.”

He cleaned the wound with cotton, water and soap, then used a different ball of cotton to carefully apply the content of a smelly little bottle to the extension of it. Kagome hissed, but he ignored it in favor of wrapping it all up with a band-aid. To ensure it was properly stretched, he gently ran his thumb through it, allowing the touch to linger more than necessary and his stare to go from her cheek to her eyes.

Her eyes.

The most stunning maze.

Let yourself get in, you are sure to get lost.

She blinked before he could, keeping them closed and leaning into his palm, her hand lifting to cover and caress his.

It would be so easy to grip her chin. To turn her face to him. To bring her to his lips.

So easy to steal a kiss.

Why do the easiest actions have to carry the most difficult consequences?

Clearing his throat, InuYasha transformed present into a loving memory.

“Take some rest. We leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.”

On the way to claim Kagome’s prior guarding position by the entrance of the cave, InuYasha collected Tessaiga while she busied herself with getting cozy inside the sleeping bag.

“Kagome?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“InuYasha, I think we’re way past saying thank you for saving each other’s lives.”

“No, not for that. I mean, for that too, but... for coming. For staying by my side.”

“Stupid.” She mocked him, her voice lethargic as exhaustion finally caught up to her. “Where else would I be?”

A/N: this was some serious self indulgent bullshit. I regret nothing.

@inukag-week here is another piece of contribution. Kind of merged the Loyalty and the Instinct prompts here. Oops.

#Inukag Week #InuYasha #Inukag #Kagome #Kagome Higurashi #My writing #Inukag Fluff #Inukag Oneshot #Inukag Fanfiction

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slasherholic · 4 years

Text

(psst... did someone say Mikey whump? guys I think someone said Mikey whump…)

Frisky February Prompt: Electricity~ (yes it’s 15 days too early shush) @slashthedice

synopsis: Michael gets served up some nasty, nasty revenge by someone who really, really has it out for him.

warnings: torture in a medical setting, sexual assault, mikey has a bad time ok

foreword: the opinions expressed here by the POV character about certain sensitive topics in no way reflect my own beliefs <3

No Faith in Medicine | Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW

The hospital corridor is long and grey and stretches onward toward a single bolted door, labeled by the rectangular sign hanging above it as Therapy Theater No. 5.

This deep within the bowels of the sanitarium, below the patient wards and the enrichment centers and the checkered courtyard, there is hardly any of the familiar clamour; so as you stride closer to the door the clack of your bootheels over the beige linoleum carries like thunder.

Smith’s Grove was never the sort of place you had pictured yourself ending up during all those sleepless nights studying for your Ph.D, and truthfully, you can’t stand it here. The deliberate blandness of the hospital, with its color palettes limited to inoffensive whites and blues and greys—meticulously designed so as not to provoke its residents—wears on you more than anything else.

You feel like you’re suffocating here; but it doesn’t matter.

This job was never about you to begin with. It was never about some commendable interest in the healing of troubled minds, either; oh-no. There are two-hundred-and-forty-nine permanent patients living inside these sound-proof walls, and while it may not be a very doctorly thing to admit, you don’t give a rat’s ass about two-hundred-and-forty-eight of them.

...and as for that last “troubled mind,” well…

The breezy summer afternoon that Michael Myers was sentenced to life imprisonment exists in your head as vividly as a snapshot picture.

Almost as vivid is your memory of the Halloween that a policeman had come knocking at your front door to inform you in a strictly-business-voice that your sister was found dead in her kitchen, her throat slit open from ear to ear.

You remember watching from your couch as the gavel came down and the judge ruled the man who had taken your sister’s life away as criminally insane—and not responsible for his actions on that fateful October night—and therefor not legally a candidate for the death penalty.

You remember the burning, frustrated tears streaming down your face, the shatter of glass as you hurled the remote at the television screen, and then sinking down in a heap on the floor and screaming until your lungs were raw and your voice was in tatters, because it wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair.

So when the news came out that Myers was to be transferred back to Smith’s Grove—hardly a forty minute commute from your own house—you had been out the door that very same day, speeding in your car down the highway, ready to accept any available position the Sanitarium would offer you for your credentials.

It had been your one shot at revenge on the sick, evil fucker who had ruined your happiness; and you were prepared to move heaven and earth just to bring Myers hell.

It had taken eight months before you even laid eyes on the man for the first time.

You’d landed yourself a patient therapy position, but only had the clearance to treat patients who fell under the “medium” and “high-risk” categories. In the entire hospital there were only two patients who fell under the third and final category: a spitting lunatic of a man, who couldn’t be safely approached without first being drugged half-asleep with antipsychotics...

...and Myers.

You had possessed the patience of a saint, climbing through promotion after promotion.

And the very minute that you were handed back a fresh copy of your I.D, now with a little red stamp at the bottom, the stamp that meant you were cleared to work with Myers, you had raced down to the front desk to file your recommendation for treatment.

Three days later, after hours of debriefing by Dr. Ashton, Myers’ new court-assigned psychiatrist, you came face to face with the worst criminal the sanitarium had ever known.

You had seen Myers’ face pictured in black and white on newspaper articles and in fuzzy low-definition on T.V.

And absolutely none of that could have prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh.

The thing that had startled you most when you were led by Dr. Ashton into Michael’s barren, cramped room—the thing that practically had you reeling when your eyes fell on the motionless figure sitting on the cot in the corner, chained at the wrists and ankles by a metal link fastened to the floor—the thing you still despise yourself for thinking—

—is that Myers was jaw-droppingly, stunningly handsome.

His were the kind of ethereal good looks that you might expect to find in some renaissance painting, or a Grecian statue, or a fantasy book.

You had stood staring across the room at the motionless young man, drinking in all the features of his vacant, pretty face; overcome by complete and total disbelief that this was actually the person responsible for all your grief.

And the very next second, that disbelief was shattered like a dropped vase; when you looked into Myers’ stare.

It brought down the temperature in the room like a cold-snap. It was not directed at you, only at the floor, yet it had you shuddering anyway, had all the hairs on your arms standing straight up. It was not a lights-on-but-nobody-home sort of gaze, the kind you were expecting from how Myers had been described by his former psychiatrist. His face was blank, yes; that was accurate enough.

But his eyes, they were the furthest thing from it.

Michael Myers had the eyes of a ruthless, calculating, viciously deliberate predator.

The longer you had stood there, gawking at Myers as if he were a tiger in a cage, hardly listening to Dr. Ashton’s rambling about his admiration of your interest in his patient’s treatment, the more you became aware of the charge crackling in the air; like the moment in a thunderstorm just before lightning rips through the sky. It was as if every fiber in your body could sense the danger radiating from this man; you could all but see and smell the invisible blood staining his hands.

It had turned your vision into a seething cloud of red.

Here was a murderer—the worst kind of murderer, who was perfectly, undoubtedly aware of his crimes, a fact you could tell from just his eyes—who carried in his heart not a single shred of remorse for the lives he’d ripped away. Who, when he was unable to kill, had resigned himself to sitting and anticipating the day when he might once again have his hands around a warm throat, the day when he would pick right back up where he left off and take another life as carelessly and thoughtlessly as one snuffing out a candle.

And this man had been allowed to keep breathing.

You think of all these things as you reach the end of the corridor and swipe your I.D card on the door to Therapy Theater No.5. Hidden locking mechanisms whirr and click open.

You place your hand around the cool metal handle. For a moment, you just stand there. Feeling your pounding heart in your chest.

It pounds not because you are fearful; you don’t care if you get caught because of what you are about to do. You don’t care if you get fired, or if you get your license taken away, or even if you go to jail. Those are the most trivial, unimportant things in the world. No. Your heart does not pound for those reasons.

It pounds because, finally, there will be justice.

Finally, the evil son-of-a-bitch who slaughtered your sister is getting what he deserved all along.

And you get to be the one to flip the switch.

You turn the door handle and step into the room.

Therapy Theater No.5 is bathed in bright fluorescent light and smells strongly of antiseptic and sterilization. Three people are already in the room: two armed guards, who nod in acknowledgment at you when you enter.

And laid out at the center across a white padded table, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, strapped tightly down at the wrists and ankles by hospital-grade cuffs, looking up at the ceiling as if utterly uncaring, motionless save for the rise and fall of his ribs—Myers.

A nurse had come in before you to prepare the room for treatment. The therapy you’re meant to be administering is simple and painless: electrodes are fixed to the patient’s body and a weak electrical current is passed through, stimulating choice muscle groups—and in more recent cases, even parts of the brain.

You had emphasized that part specifically in your pitch of the therapy to Dr. Ashton, referencing a study which showed how violent tendencies could be soothed in patients who underwent the treatment.

And no, you’d reassured him, it was nothing like electroconvulsive therapy.

The electrical current used in E.S.T is never strong enough to induce seizures. The only thing the subject feels is a mild, if not pleasant, buzz...

·…or at least that’s how it’s meant to be administered.

Tampering with the wattage of the machine had turned out to be laughably easy. A few snipped wires here, a few crunched numbers there, and now the bulky device sitting atop the roll-around table beside your “patient” can deliver a shock nastier than a taser with every throw of the switch.

It’s not strong enough to stop a human heart (god, you wish.) But it is enough to make Myers hurt.

Enough to make him writhe on that table.

Maybe even enough to make the heartless bastard feel something for a change.

You thank the guards before dismissing them. They leave the room but you know they won’t go far; no further than right outside in the hall, waiting through the entire session with their hands on their batons in case Myers gets out of hand.

Their security would be a welcome thing, if you were actually about to /treat/ Myers instead of torturing the living daylights out of him. But now, the guards are just another problem in need of a solution.

Though you are almost confident that Myers will retain his silence throughout the ordeal—that he’ll uphold his veil of distance and aloofness and total lack of care with the stubbornness of an ass—you’re not about to bet your shot at justice on it.

That’s what the ball gag in your coat pocket is for.

Reaching down to check that it is still there, excitement swells in your belly as your fingers graze the black silicone.

On the table, Myers is still motionless. He doesn’t tilt his head to regard you. He pays you no attention at all, in fact, as if you aren’t even there to begin with. Never do his steely eyes move from their fixed place on the ceiling light hanging above him.

As you walk up to the roll-around table, plucking a pair of latex gloves from a box stashed on the shelf beneath before snapping them curtly on, for a reason that you can’t put into words, you find yourself hesitating to look Myers in the face.

It doesn’t matter that he’s restrained; it doesn’t matter that there are two armed and capable guards standing watch right outside. Despite both these things, that vitriolic, charged aura you had felt in his cell still surrounds him now, polluting the room, hanging like a storm cloud over your head.

It’s as if some submissive animal instinct has gripped your brain and now screams warnings at you: Predator. Danger. Don’t look it in the eye. Don’t provoke it.

You do your damndest to dismiss the feeling as nerves.

In a little white tray next to the E.S.T machine sits a filled syringe; a sedative. Dr. Ashton has insisted on it to better ensure your safety, as well as Myers’ cooperation. In the psychiatrist’s exact words:

“These days Michael is, ah, fussier about this kind of treatment—you know, the kind they gotta bring in the guards for, the needles, the cuffs, the whole nine-yards.

It’s a theory of mine that, after living with the sort of power Michael did, the loss of his own control doesn’t sit as nicely anymore. He doesn’t like it. And he’s not afraid to let us know just how much he doesn’t like it.”

Fussy. That was the word Ashton had used to describe Myers.

It had taken every shred of self-control you possessed not to scoff in the Doctor’s face at that; as if the man laid out before you now were some sort of stubborn, overgrown toddler, and not a remorseless, murderous psychopath.

You don’t spare the sedative a second glance as you unravel the bundle of wires and nodes connected to the E.S.T machine; Myers is going to be awake to feel every goddamned second of what you do to him.

Only after you’re finished with him will you finally send him under.

You can picture the conversation with Ashton now: Yes sir, the sedative worked like a charm, he was out like a light the entire time; no sir, no complications at all.

You take your time setting up the machine because you’re still hesitant to even look at Myers, let alone touch him. But when the wires are all connected, the red power button flashing idly in standby, there is nothing left to do except attach the electrodes.

You force yourself to look him in the face as you approach. You should not be afraid of this man; you should resent him, should despise him, but should not fear him. He doesn’t deserve to hold that sort of power over you, or anyone else, ever again.

So you look.

Michael is still watching the ceiling. According to his eyes, he does not acknowledge you.

But just from how the hair on your nape stands on end you know you’re being watched.

Myers is regarding you coolly in his periphery with the curiosity of a feline, feigning detachment and disinterest; but the weight and pressure of that penetrating gaze could not be more obvious if it were a ton of bricks coming right down on your head.

With a deep breath to rein in your resolve, you reach down, your fingers working to undo the first knot on Myers’ hospital gown.

Quickly, you discover that it is one thing to look at Myers; to feel for yourself his ruthless awareness, the raw intensity of his presence.

But to touch him is another thing altogether.

He draws a breath of his own as you fidget with his gown, his strong rib cage expanding beneath your fingers. You shudder at the sudden pressure of his body; whether out of disgust, or anger, or some fucked up fascination, you aren’t sure.

After undoing the ties on both sides, you lift the front of his gown up and off—

—and find that Myers is totally naked underneath.

Standard hospital procedure for a therapy like this one. Nothing new.

But it’s different when the patient looks like this.

You hate yourself for ogling him. You detest the way your eyes rove across Myers’ body, lingering on all the features that your lizard-brain decides it likes; from the stark tendons in his neck to his sharp and angular collarbones, from his broad, rounded shoulders to the beautiful definition in his abdomen, and down even further than that before you can stop yourself.

To the V of his obliques—to the trail of curly brown pubic hair on his pelvis—and all the way down to his flaccid penis.

You snatch a towel from the roll-around and drape it hurriedly over his hips. Not for the sake of his modesty; just so you don’t have to worry about your eyes straying down to the cock of the man who murdered your sister.

As far as the placement of the electrodes on his body, you honestly haven’t given it much thought. It seemed like the sort of thing that would come to you like an epiphany, as if suddenly, in the moment, you would know exactly where to hit Myers to really make him suffer.

But no such epiphany comes. Oh well; you have an hour to experiment.

Grabbing the two nodes off their holders, you run the wires across his chest and press the little round circles down flat against his pectorals.

When your gloved fingers graze Myers’ skin you nearly jerk back your hand, startled. The man is hot like a stove.

Your medical fascination is instantly piqued—Myers must have the hottest resting body temperature you’ve ever encountered. You have to force away intrusive thoughts of sticking a thermometer in his mouth to see that number for yourself.

Focus.

Tugging up on the wires, you test the integrity of the node’s suction. They don’t budge from his chest, lifting his skin with them as you pull. Perfect; It’s nearly time.

Now for the gag.

You just have to cross your fingers and pray that you can actually get it in his mouth.

Looking Myers in the face a third time proves to be no less jarring than it had been the second or the first. You’re just relieved that even after all your poking and prodding he is still pretending not to be interested in you, or in the things you’re doing to his body.

You clear your throat before speaking to him because you don’t trust it enough not to crack.

“Open up,” you command him, mustering every authoritative bone in your body and sounding very official even to your own ears.

Removing the gag from your pocket, you hold it up as if to show him, taking care to conceal the black silicone ball with your hand.

“Mouthguard.”

You doubt that Myers has seen this sort of gag before. Or that he even knows what a gag is. Still, you’re not taking that risk. If this doesn’t work then you’re going to have to drug him just to get the damn thing in place, then wait for him to sober up again—a colossal waste of time.

For a tense second, Myers does not respond to your command. He just lays there on the table, inhaling and exhaling, looking incredibly bored with you, with his nakedness, with the electrodes strapped to his chest.

Your jaw goes tense. You nearly repeat yourself.

But then, he opens up his mouth.

Beneath the harsh overhead lighting his teeth gleam wetly. You suspect immediately that he’s going to try and bite your fingers off the second you get too close.

Game on, fucker.

From the shelf below the roll-around you snatch up a small blotting rag. Walking around to stand at the head of the table, you gaze down at Myers again.

“The strap goes underneath.” You inform him. “I need you to lift your head up.”

He does.

And you strike. Faster than you had thought yourself capable.

You drape the rag over his eyes so that he can’t see what’s coming. Thrusting the gag hard into his open mouth, you wedge it firmly between his teeth. In the corner of the room, Myers’ heart monitor spikes suddenly, the electronic beeping speeding up momentarily—a sound that has you beaming with pride.

You’ve actually managed to startle him.

As you clip the strap into place around the back of his head, a strange sense of accomplishment floods your body—you’ve done it. You’ve actually done it. Everything is ready.

Every sacrifice you’ve made in these past eight months, every hour spent in this godforsaken hellhole, it was all worth it just to bring about this single moment.

The moment is made only sweeter when you rip the rag away from Myers’ face.

Oh. Now you have his attention.

Those pale eyes are looking straight up at you. Considering you with the cutting gaze of a hawk. Working out the situation.

You glare right back down at him. You stare deep into his eyes, the triumphant fire now raging in your chest burning hotter than the ice in his stare, more furiously than all the danger—and you find that you are not afraid of him anymore. Like this, Myers is nothing. He’s not a boogeyman. Not a phantom. He’s just a man—stripped of all his mysticism. Strapped to a table. Naked. Gagged.

Powerless.

Just as powerless to stop what you’re about to do to him as each and every one of the people whose lives he took away.

“Hello, Michael.” You hold his fierce eye-contact as you speak. “Ten months ago you broke into my sister’s house and murdered her.”

Myers doesn’t blink. But neither do you.

“When they tried you, you were supposed to leave that courtroom a dead man walking; you were supposed to die. That's how our justice system works—when you do the things you did, you don’t get to keep on living.”

Nothing changes on Myers’ face as you speak. Nothing changes in his eyes. Not one molecule in his body has an atom of care to give about the words you’re saying. He breathes around the gag, his heart monitor beeping slow and steady.

“I don’t give a single fuck about what that judge said,” You continue. “And I don’t care how sick in the head you really are. You knew exactly what you were doing that night. I can see it in your eyes, Myers—you loved every fucking second of it. And that’s the only thing that matters.”

You draw a long breath. One that you hold in your lungs before letting slowly out again.

“You’re the evilest son-of-a-bitch on this entire fucking planet; and you deserve to die.”

Walking over to the E.S.T machine, fighting back with tooth and claw against furious tears now threatening your eyes, you place your finger over the power switch.

Myers watches you; and you notice something flicker to life in his glacial eyes. Not an emotion. Just a realization.

Good. He understands now. He understands what you’re about to do to him.

“Someone has to make you pay. Someone has to.”

Michael just stares. Watching you. Watching your finger on the switch. His pulse on the monitor ticks as leisurely as if he were about to fall asleep.

“And guess what, you sick fuck?”

Still staring—not blinking—breaths coming slowly.

“I’m so fucking happy that it’s me.”

You throw the switch—

—the wires crackle with live electricity—

—and all of Myers’ deliberate, calculated control is shattered like a dropped glass.

His body seizes. His eyes snap shut. His fingers curl into fists that turn his knuckles whiter than the table beneath him. The tendons in his neck and forearms jump out, straining beneath his skin. His heart monitor beats erratically, the little green line on the screen spiking sharply, racing out of control.

Your eyes are glued to the grisly scene. You devour each and every involuntary reaction, relishing in the complete and utter breakdown of his control.

Fifteen gorgeous seconds pass before you remember that you were supposed to be counting to ten. Whoops. You might be frying his brain into an unfeeling stupor at this point. You flip the switch off in an instant because you need him awake, aware.

Myers’ back falls flat against the table, the current cutting off as abruptly as it began. The muscles in his chest continue to contract and seize beneath his skin long after the electricity is gone; you count the spasms as they tear through his pectorals like sets of waves.

When the spasming stops, his chest heaves up and down, winded. His breaths around the gag come heavily. His eyes are still shut; but no longer are they /squeezed/ shut.

For a moment, you really think that he’s passed out.

Then his eyes twitch beneath their lids and flutter open again. Blinking. Focusing—

—flitting right back on your face. Right back to the spot where he had left them before the current forced them shut.

Myers’ eyes are devoid of care. He is entirely unperturbed by what has just happened to him; entirely unthreatened. But now, that murderous intent—the charge which until now you’d only felt in the air around him—is written in his stare as plain as day.

I am going to kill you, says Michael’s gaze, as nonchalant as if he were stating some trivial fact about the universe, like water is wet, or the sky is blue.

It makes your blood boil.

Adding insult to injury, the speed at which Myers regains control of his body is nothing short of infuriating. You fume as you watch the way his breaths level out again, the beeping from his heart monitor falling back into the former slow, rhythmic pace.

You feel as though you should say something to him; like you should retaliate to this defiance in some way that isn’t staring, because you’ve already lost that battle; you cannot possibly hope to match the severity of Myers’ gaze.

But you don’t.

In your heart of hearts you know that your words will go right through his skull, unheard. There is only one language that Myers understands; only one language that he can comprehend down to his marrow. So you’ll speak it to him.

Without wasting another breath, your fingers find the power switch again. And those defiant eyes of his snap shut a second time.

When you shut the current off the results are the same as before; Myers is heaving on the table. But he takes back his control just as quickly, his stoicism prevailing.

By the third time however, his breaths have begun to linger in their heaviness—

—by the fourth he draws them as shallow as a winded sprinter running a race—

—by the fifth, the intervals between the violent seizing-up of his body are too brief for him to catch his breath—

—and the way he now gasps around the obstructing gag, fighting and failing to suck in air past its silicone, his nostrils flaring rapidly to compensate, is the most beautiful display of desperation that you have ever witnessed.

The sixth time you throw the switch, Myers actually does pass out.

When the current stops his body loses its tension with the abruptness of a cut wire. You wait impatiently for him to open his eyes again with your finger lingering over the switch, preparing to meet that steely gaze with another brutal jolt of electricity.

You wait; and Myers’ heart monitor chugs away like a freight train going up a hill.

Still waiting… waiting...

...and nothing happens. Myers is out cold.

The contentment now pulsing through your veins is what you imagine a shot of heroin feels like. Snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, you walk up to the side of the table to admire your work.

The first thing you notice is the sweat. Myers’ body is drenched in it. It beads up on his chest and clavicle, on his biceps and shoulders, on his brow and cheeks, the skin there flushing a shade of stark, exhausted pink. Gorgeous.

Your eyes travel down his body to continue the examination; you stop at his hands.

Myers’ hands are bloody.

Crescent-shaped cuts litter the skin of his palms, marking the place where his own blunt fingernails had dug in uncontrollably, over and over and over again. The fresh blood streaks in little rivulets down his hands and pools on the white padding of the table beneath.

You chew the inside of your lip as you stare at the mess; these cuts might be tricky to explain away. You’ll have to gauze them and tell Dr. Ashton that his patient did it to himself; maybe recommend that he be switched to a higher Thorazine dosage to really sell the lie.

Luckily, that’s a problem for the future. As for right now, you’re rather enjoying the irony of Myers’ own blood staining his hands for a change.

The inspection continues. Further down his body, you finally notice it; the bulge beneath the towel strewn across his pelvis.

Oh my god, he isn’t. You think, lifting the side of the towel for a peek.

And oh my god, he is.

Rather frustratingly, just like the rest of him, Myers is pretty down here, too. Pretty and big. Which is not a compliment, you reassure yourself. Just a medical observation. You let yourself stare this time, because you’re not ashamed anymore. You’re not threatened by the notion of admiring Myers’ physiology anymore.

Not when he’s so completely at your mercy.

Somehow, Myers doesn’t seem to be the masochistic type, so you highly doubt that actual arousal is responsible for this. Sheer adrenaline coupled with his frantically pumping heart are probably to blame, his brain mixing and misinterpreting the signals, resulting in this little accident.

The longer you stare down at the “accident,” the more you find yourself wondering what Myers would look like fully-erect.

You cannot rip the electrodes off his chest fast enough. Plucking the towel from waist and discarding it on the floor, you stick the two nodes down flat against his obliques, then hurry to rig up a third. That one you plant just above his penis; as close to its base as the curly dark hair will allow.

You stand with your finger ready on the go-button again, opting to let Myers’ still-racing pulse dip out of the red before you pull the trigger and plunge him back into hell. Bloodied hands you can explain away, but cardiac arrest? Not so much.

The beeping slows. The green lines on the monitor settle. You throw the switch.

Myers’ pelvis bucks uncontrollably up from the table—

—and he grunts.

The sound makes your heart sing. It is muffled by the gag, low and reverberating, not very loud to begin with. Most definitely not on purpose; just a reaction that’s managed to slip through while his barriers are down.

Myers’ groin is still quivering when you cut the current off. His cock stands upright, stiff and swollen, totally erect. A line of saliva now dribbles down the side of his mouth, trickling between the gag, collecting in a shimmering mess on his shoulder. He blinks sluggishly up at the ceiling light as if transfixed; still dazed, you would guess.

Something twisted occurs to you as you drink in the scene. Something that you can’t deny.

Seeing Myers like this—fighting for his very consciousness, struggling to retain some sliver of control—is the single most arousing thing you have ever witnessed. You want nothing more in the entire world than to climb onto this dangerous, wounded man’s hips and claim him.

You want nothing more than to give him a taste of what true powerlessness feels like.

It’s a lovely fantasy, a beautiful temptation, and a real shame that it can’t happen. You don’t feel like getting knocked up with the child of your sister’s murderer today; or ever, for that matter. Instead, you think you’ll make a game out of guessing how many more shocks will have Myers coming on his own thighs.

Striding up to the head of the table again, you plant your arms on either side of his shoulders, leaning over him, hardly ten inches from his face.

“Looks painful Myers.” You jest. “How about I make you a deal?”

Michael looks up at you. Unfocused. Blinking slowly.

“I flip the switch,” you continue,

“—and I keep it flipped until you’re covered in your own semen, and after that I jam a needle in your arm, pump you full of drugs, and you get to live out your next eight hours as an unfeeling fucking vegetable. Fair?”

You wait for Myers to do something. For your words to register in his brain. For some flicker of a response to let you know that he’s even still in there.

To your immense disappointment, Myers does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just...

...well, you can’t even call it staring anymore.

He doesn’t seem able to manage that sort of focus, you realize, inspecting his face closer. His eyes are alarmingly barren; there really isn’t much of anything there, now. None of the ruthlessness, none of that predatory awareness, none of the murder.

You’ve actually shocked the bastard totally, one-hundred-percent out of it.

Whoops.

Back at the roll-around, you snatch up a hand light. Returning to the table, you shine it in his eyes, assessing the damage. His functioning pupil is slow to dilate. Worryingly slow. You click the light off with a contemplative frown.

Half of your mind begs whatever force might be listening that this isn’t a passing affliction, that whatever damage that’s done is done. If the courts insist on keeping Myers alive, then maybe reducing his brains to soup is what it takes to keep him docile. To keep him from hurting another living thing ever again. You can only hope.

As much as you’d love to do so, electrocuting the living daylights out of him some more isn’t likely to bring Myers back to awareness; and the session is supposed to be over soon.

You glance at the clock on the wall—

—Shit. Very soon.

You need to find out right the fuck now if you’ve just rendered Dr. Ashton’s patient catatonic.

Walking around the side of the table, you take Myers’ swollen cock in your gloved hand—trying not to think about the fact that you’re jacking off a condemned murderer—and pump hard, stroking him all the way from the shaft to the swollen tip, squeezing the head, massaging your thumb over it, rubbing all the way back down again.

“Come on, asshole,” you spit. “That can’t be all the fight you’ve got.”

Myers’ hips jerk slightly up from the table as you touch him. Probably just an involuntary reaction. You’ll need him to do better than that. Stroking him faster, squeezing even harder, you pray that the friction of your latex glove against his cock feels just about as pleasant as a rug burn.

As you watch his vacant face like a hawk you see him begin to blink harder, his eyes squeezing shut, twitching beneath their lids, staying closed for a beat before opening up again, like he’s struggling to wake from a deep sleep. A much more deliberate motion; he’s coming back to it.

“Can you feel that? Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

He breathes hard around the gag. His knees lurch up from the table, the cuffs around his ankles straining, holding him in place.

You give his cock another hard squeeze.

“Forget where you are Myers?”

His jaw goes absolutely rigid with tension.

Ah. He heard you that time. He’s back.

How unfortunate that his brain isn’t fried after all.

You can see it all coming back now as his eyes flit down, locking on your face, rebooting within him like a program on a script; the chilling intensity, the sharpness, all the things that had made your skin crawl in the days past. Despite the torture, nothing at all about Myers’ demeanor has changed.

“Welcome back.” You state dryly. “We aren’t done yet.”

As if to make your blood boil on purpose—as if the battered state of his body means less to him than dirt, as if he hasn’t spent the better part of the hour being brutally, mercilessly tortured by you—

—Myers just watches you. Damning you with his eyes alone to the same grisly demise as before.

An odd sense of something, not quite admiration, sparks in your gut. Looking into Myers’ eyes, there is one single thing that you are willing to give this monster credit for:

What sits before you is a creature that cannot be broken. One that will never be dissuaded from its primal, violent nature. To try it is an impossible task. You suspect that you could stand in this room for days, flipping the same switch, delivering the same current, knocking him to and from consciousness, and into all the states in-between.

And the result would never change. Not ever.

He’d still be looking at you with that same deadly stare. A stare as cold and sharp as the blade of a carving knife.

And it would only get more piercing.

And what a relief it is that your goal in the first place was never to break Myers,

just to bring the gates of hell down on his pretty, curly head.

And you have. You can hear it in every breath he takes; he’s struggling. Although he draws his inhales slowly, with mechanical control, the ragged wheezing in his chest is no longer possible for him to hide. Myers is hurting—he’s hurting bad.

As much as you would love to stay and twist the knife in even deeper, it's time to wrap things up. You’re all out of time.

Pulling the electrodes from his groin and thighs with one hand, you let two of the nodes dangle freely off the side of the table.

The third you stick against his cock.

“Count your lucky fucking stars that not everyone in the world is as heartless as you are.” You tell him, walking back around to the E.S.T machine.

Myers follows you with eyes the entire way, stone-faced, impassive. Like the fact that you’ve just fastened a live wire to his dick is about as boring to him as watching paint dry.

Flick goes the switch.

His back arches off the table like a bent bow. He scrunches his eyes shut, breathing hard around the gag, tugging furiously at the cuffs, the muscles in his calves and biceps straining dangerously, pulling upwards with a brutish force that has table whining beneath him.

You’re transfixed as Michael comes. His mess shoots out in thick ropes, reaching further than you thought possible, coating the table, getting on his legs. The sheer power of his body is a stunning thing to witness. You keep the current running to milk him down to the very last drop.

When he stops coming, you power off the machine.

The node comes away from Michael’s skin in a “pop” that is all-too satisfying. Bundling all the wires and electrodes back into place on the machine you listen to the only measurable signs of the man’s distress; the tortured intake of his breaths, the elevated beeping of his heart monitor.

Then, picking up the needle from the little white tray, you cross back to Myers’ side.

The vein in his forearm is thick and pronounced and the needle slips in beautifully. You press slowly down on the plunger, grateful when he doesn’t try to yank his arm away, relieved when he accepts the drug without a struggle. He must be exhausted.

The sedative works its magic quickly. You pull up a stool and sit down beside him to watch.

The vitriol in his eyes begins to melt and soften. One by one his strained muscles are allowed to relax again, the tension ebbing away; from his jaw, his shoulders, his abdomen, his legs. The electronic beeping on the monitor slows and slows until its powerful rhythm beats steadily again.

Evidently, Michael has decided he isn’t ready to go under just yet. Though sleep pools in his eyelids he blinks it away, clinging in a death grip to his consciousness.

Just to leer at you. Just to picture in his mind the day he will have his hands around your throat; as if it is already set in stone. As if it is just a matter of when.

Then, Michael’s eyelids flutter—

—fighting to stay open, still staring—

—closing, for just a beat too long—

—lingering shut—

—staying shut.

You move to clean him up quickly. The gag comes out first. Lifting his head to unbuckle the strap, you tug out the black ball, letting his strained jaw fall shut again for the first time in an hour; then carelessly drop his head. It thunks satisfyingly as it comes down hard against the table. Glancing at the gag’s silicone, you notice the deep markings worn into it, perfect impressions of Myers’ top and bottom teeth. You almost shudder; a bite from him would have been nasty.

You blot away the drool dribbling down his chin and shoulder with a rag, and then move on.

The last thing you expect as you begin to clean Michael’s bloodied hands is the tears that spring to your eyes. Even with your fear of the man gone and buried, you wish that you didn’t have to touch these awful hands; let alone treat them, bandage them, heal them.

You wipe away the tears on your sleeve as you gather your supplies together on the roll-around.

Grabbing each of his wrists just above the restraint cuffs and turning them so that his palm is facing upward on the table, you hastily swab him down with alcohol pads, wiping up the clotting blood from his skin, squeezing out a blob of antiseptic from a tube to smear across his cuts. As you wrap Michael’s palms tightly in gauze you try your hardest to snuff out that invasive thought when it comes searing like a bullet through your skull—

—these are the hands that killed my sister.

You simply can’t afford to linger on those thoughts right now. Maybe when you’re at home tonight, alone in your bed, you will let yourself cry; but not now. Not while you still need to clean up after Myers’ unfortunate mishap.

Toweling him down from his forehead to his calves, you soak away the sweat. And the semen. Then, you fasten back up the front of his hospital gown, knotting each and every tie.

And just like that, the job is done.

You knock on the door. The guards come in and wheel Myers’ unconscious body out of the room.

The next day, you have a debriefing session with Dr. Ashton. You feed him your meticulously rehearsed lie: that the therapy went without a hiccup, that you firmly believe this treatment could be the key to alleviating Michael’s tendencies for violence.

The moron laps up your every word.

Ashton ends the session with a delightful little surprise; he’s pulled some strings to allow for Michael’s therapy to be carried out bi-weekly. He is so impressed by your drive to treat his patient that he’s offering you a position as Michael’s secondary caretaker. He only hopes that you’ll accept.

The smile you give him is bright and sincere, one that beams from ear to ear.

“Doctor, believe me when I say that nothing in the world would make me happier.”

#Michael Myers #Halloween #Slashers #michael myers x reader #writing

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dr-exophil · 4 years

Text

Merman x F!Reader

Hi, and welcome to my first actual story post on this account! This story is about a merman named Tethys, who was based on a drawing a saw online a little while ago (you can see his picture in one of my last posts). It's not very long, only 1944 words, but I'm going to make multiple parts, so stay tuned if you enjoy.

The sky was a deep blue that Saturday morning, orange only barely tinging the horizon. The waves were beginning to recede, the tides no longer under the spell of the moon, and the sand felt soft under my bare feet. It was the first weekend of summer, and my family had insisted on a camping trip to commemorate their favourite season, dragging me along with them. I wasn’t generally much of an outdoorsy person, but even I had to admit that the beach was exceptionally beautiful this morning.

I wandered aimlessly along the coast, only about a foot from the most daring waves, kicking shells and taking in the scenery. It had been a while since I’d last come to the beach, and I was enjoying reconnecting with it. The sound of the waves beside me, the scent of the sea blowing through my hair on a light breeze, the colours of the early morning sky… It was all so magnificent, and I was suddenly glad the light had awakened me this morning.

I was nearing a comparatively sharp turn on the beach, the soft sand giving way to more gritty stuff like crushed up shells and small rocks. As I watched a squadron of early birds divebombing the water in the distance, a few sharpened boulders of varying sizes beside the dunes told me that a new section of beach was coming up. I furrowed my brows and turned my body in the opposite direction, momentarily walking backwards, to see that I’d come far enough that our campsite was nowhere to be seen.

Anxiety washed over me as the waves wash over the beach, and as I was about to walk back, an eerie tune caught my ear and made me look back. A strange sort of humming was coming from around the boulders, the sound alluring in a way I’d never thought possible. Something in me told me this wasn’t right, that the peculiar song wasn’t meant to be heard, but yet it seemed to call to me, slowly coiling around me and leading me to the source.

Before I knew it, I was moving towards the noise, my feet moving without my consent and my heels dragging slightly in the sand. Right as I was about to find the source of the beautiful voice, I caught myself and hid behind the boulder. Suddenly my head was killing me, and my vision blurred momentarily, but it cleared up after I shut my eyes for a few seconds. The singing hadn’t stopped, but it had abruptly become quieter and more hesitant. It was then I realized that whoever was singing must’ve heard me.

A thousand anxious thoughts ran through my head in a matter of seconds. Shit, I really wasn’t supposed to hear it… Oh gods, what if they think I’m some axe murderer, or a stalker? What if they’re the axe murderer? Am I gonna die here?

As my imagination ran amok, and I began regretting ever allowing my family to bring me here, I was stirred from my thoughts by a soft voice calling out nervously, “Hello? Is, uh, someone there?”

It sounded like a boy, or rather a young man. Though his voice sounded slightly deeper when speaking, it was definitely the singer I’d just heard. I suddenly remembered what I was wearing as a cool breeze brushed past my bare legs. I hadn’t expected anyone to come out so early, and all I wore aside from my watch was a large T-shirt, some shorts, and a sports bra, the clothes I’d worn to sleep. Heat crept up my neck as I realized I’d have to show myself like this.

The singer called for me once more before I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and walked around the rock. “Hey,” I said as I brushed some hair away from my face, “I’m sorry to intrude, I just--”

I stopped in my tracks as my eyes met the deep, watery ones of the singer, and I couldn’t help but raise my hands to my mouth in shock. My gaze wandered down his body, past his long, dark hair; his blue and salmon skin shimmering with water and grains of sand, his sharp-clawed, elegant hands, and his scaly, muscular tail. When I came back to his angled face for the second time, I saw his ears, shaped the same as the fins on his hips, currently darker than the rest of his body.

When he cleared his throat nervously, I stumbled back with a yelp, tripping over myself and landing on my bottom. The creature immediately tried to jump to catch me but he was too far, I whimpered loudly and scooted backwards in the sand, eyes as big as saucers. It quickly retreated, backing itself up against the dunes once more and holding its hands up in surrender. “Okay! Alright, I won’t touch you,” he said, his face contorted with worry as he eyed the sharp rocks around me. “Just, are you, uhm, are you okay?”

I ignored his question, once again letting my eyes fall to his tail. It was beautiful, too beautiful to be some elaborate costume. The fin at the end, like the others, was webbed with translucent skin akin to that of reptiles’ shed, or at least it looked that way. If this was really his body, then I had to assume the tail and fins had the same slimy texture as a regular fish. It was hard to rationalize this situation, but focusing on the facts that I knew helped to calm me down. He seemed peaceful enough and asked about my wellbeing, so I assumed he was friendly.

I took a deep breath, heart racing, and eyed him suspiciously. He met my gaze, but seemed to be trying very hard not to look away. “Okay, so, no offence, and excuse me for asking, but… What, um, what are you?”

He seemed relieved to see I had asked such a simple question. “Well,” he said, tapping his claws nervously on the gritty sand, “your people call us many things, but I call myself a mer. I think that’s what’s most common, right? Mermaidens and mermen?”

“Just mermaids, but yeah,” I agreed, before shaking my head vehemently. “But wait, that’s-- mermaids aren’t real?” It came out as a question, as my unsureness was immeasurable. The merman huffed a little laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides, and my eyes went wide as I looked away. What was that? I shook my head once more, pushing the strange twist in my gut down to a nice, dark place where I could forget about it.

Meeting his eyes again, I asked, “If mermaids, or… mer, or whatever, are real, does that mean other “mythical” creatures are real too?” The merman gave me a strange look as I made air quotes around the term “mythical,” but didn’t question it.

“Well, I’m not sure what you would consider mythical, but I have to assume that they are real, if people said mer were make-believe,” he says, looking at a crab in thought as it poked half of its little body out of a hole before quickly backtracking. When he met my eyes again, he seemed a little more apprehensive. “Forgive me for asking, if it’s rude, but what exactly do you call yourself?”

I furrowed my brows a little. “We call ourselves humans, you didn’t know that?” The merman lets out a little snort before he bursts into a fit of laughter. Only then, as a heavy blush of embarrassment clouds my cheeks, do I realize what he meant. “Oh! Oh my god, I’m so stupid,” I mutter, burying my face in my hands. “I-- Oh, would you stop laughing? My name is (Y/n), for crying out loud.”

As he slowly quiets himself, the smile remains on the mer’s face. “(Y/n), you said? What a strange name,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve never heard a name like that before, but then again, I haven’t ever spoken to a human. My name is Tethys, and it’s… well, startling to meet you.”

I scoff, though in a playful sort of way, and hold my hand out to him. “The shock is all mine,” I say sarcastically. I raise a brow as he stares uncomfortably at my hand, before recoiling and running my hand down my face in exasperation with my idiocy. “Sorry, it’s a, uh, common human greeting. Here, let me show you…”

Tethys watches me warily as I scoot closer to him, sitting on my knees, and slowly reach for his hand. Upon grabbing his hand he immediately pulls away, confusion on his features. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“Trust me on this, it’s simple,” I respond, grabbing him once more. He’s tense, but this time he doesn’t snatch his hand back. Instead, he stares on in interest as I position his right hand so that it’s facing me, and gently slip my hand into his in a handshake. I grin at him, suddenly so excited as I realize that I’m literally teaching a merman how to give a handshake, and he smiles back nervously. I notice, however, out of the corner of my eye, that his ears are changing colours again.

I was about to ask about it when suddenly a loud beeping startled us both. Tethys hissed loudly, his ears twitching violently, and looked to my watch. I quickly shut off my alarm, eyes widening as I turned my gaze from my watch to the orangey sky. Daylight was quickly eating the blue of the night, and I directed my panicked eyes back to Tethys, who was rubbing his temples gently and staring menacingly at my watch. “I have to go,” I said hastily, moving my hands to the ground to push myself up again.

Tethys’s deep blue eyes widened drastically, and he quickly grabbed my forearm to stop me from moving anymore. “But, but wait! You’ve only just got here,” he said, “and I’ve never spoken to a human before! Couldn’t you stay just a little longer?”

His big, sad eyes tore at me, and I really wanted to talk more too, but as I glanced once more at my watch, I knew I couldn’t. “Look, I don’t want to go, but my family is going to freak if they see I’m missing,” I said. I could tell he didn’t quite get that, but he seemed to understand the urgency in my voice. “How about this: I don’t live too terribly far from the beach, so I’ll drive out here a week from now, and meet you right here?”

“A week? How long is that?”

“Seven days,” I respond quickly. “It’s the soonest I can possibly come back; I’m going on a trip during the-- those seven days. Is that okay?”

He hesitates for only a second before nodding. “At night,” he says, “so I can’t be seen. I’ll be here.” I nod in return and stand up as he releases his grip on me, dusting myself off.

“I’ll see you soon, Tethys,” I say, another excited grin making its way onto my face. His ears change to that deep blue once more as he hears his name, and I’m beginning to think it happens when he’s happy. A question for another day, I suppose. He nods once more, smiling big, and for the first time, I notice the razor-sharp teeth he harbours within his mouth.

I shake my head once more as I walk off, a strange yet not unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. A question for another day.

#monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #interspecies romance #tetraphilia #monster x reader #monster #monsters #merman #mer #merman boyfriend #writers #writing #exophilia #exophilia works #part 1 #part one #part 1 of many

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space-------kid · 4 years

Note

Ack! It’s perfectly okay! But in short, Akaza, not hakuji, is human, still apart of the 12 moons, meets a flower shop owner, who after becoming friends with, ends up showing him a flower that they found, the blue spider lily, the flower of which he needs, and he contemplates over turning it in and potentially risking the owner’s safety (cause like, hey, where’d ya get the flower) and keeping here and potentially getting in trouble for not finding it. Maybe smol angst with a fluff ending?

Thank you for your patience, understanding, and clarification - I appreciate them very much! 😭💕💕💕

I hope you like what I come up with, anon! 😊💕

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓫𝔂𝓮, 𝓶𝓻. 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓮𝓯 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃!𝒜𝓀𝒶𝓏𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The strum of Nakime’s biwa is the last thing he hears before he is transported away from the Dimensional Infinity Fortress. Akaza gets up from his kneeling position, sleep-deprived and mentally exhausted from his meeting with the demon he calls his master. Behind him, the sun is starting to rise from the horizon, signifying a new day he has to face with only one thing in mind.

Despite his abhorrence for humans, Kibutsuji Muzan finds it in himself to tolerate the presence of the only man occupying a spot among his Twelve Demon Moons, more so giving said man the title of Upper Moon Three – the rank branded on his back. Human though he may be, Akaza knows that Muzan favours him along with the top two Upper Moons because of his many uses. For one, no one will suspect that a human like him is willingly working for a demon. And two, he proves to be more useful in the progenitor of the demon’s search for the mysterious blue spider lily - having the capacity to look for the flowers in broad daylight rather than being limited by night. Perhaps these are simply the reason why Akaza hasn’t been turned into a demon yet, and he’d rather not if he’s being completely honest.

The danger of being eaten or mercilessly killed by his fellow Moons remain, however, and it pervades within the ranks of the Lower Moons. While the Upper Moons may have been lenient because they also recognize the uses of a human belonging in the ranks and being of service to Muzan, the Lower ones hate Akaza with a burning passion. How could one measly human gain Muzan’s favour, something they can’t even obtain (maybe with the exception of Lower Five, Rui, who sees Muzan as a father-figure and Akaza some sort of an older brother)?

But Akaza is used to the threats by now. He’s learned to live with every single one of them -- that, after all, is what it means to be a human who chooses to be subservient to the creator of demonkind.

Prepared for another long day ahead of him, Akaza squares his shoulders and sets off on his journey.

Akaza’s trail leads him to a post town called Magome located in the Kiso Valley.

While the town doesn’t look promising enough with regards to his journey, the third Upper Moon still sees the charm of the place itself. He initially plans to stay only for a day and move along with his search, but he hears talk of Demon Slayers converging on the next town he is headed so he decides to lay low for a few days. While he is confident that he can take them on with the use of his Destructive Kill Style - a self-taught Breath Style he has formulated to oppose the Demon Slayers’ - he finds it prudent that secrecy will better help him with his quest for the time being.

Akaza, however, doesn’t count on finding all three inns in the town fully booked. His displeasure must have shown on his face because most of the townspeople have been veering off his general direction. He would have ignored them, but a soft tap on his shoulder sends him turning around to look at whoever it is with a glare.

Looking back, Akaza doesn’t expect that his short stay in Magome will earn him a friend in the form of [Name], an unassuming yet kind owner of the sole flower shop in the town. She has heard of his plight and - as her usual routine - offers to let him stay in her home above the shop. Akaza wants to turn down her request for he barely knows her save for some of the townsfolk encouraging him to do so. After all, they say, [Name] is known to take in those who have been unfortunate enough to be unable to find a place to stay in during their time in the town.

He continues to harbour doubt. What if he’s a thief who wants to take advantage of her offer? What if he’s a murderer? His questions and doubt are short-lived, for [Name] is completely safe under the protection of three older brothers who live close. While not being a part of the Imperial Army nor his enemy the Demon Slayers, [Name]’s siblings are capable fighters who dabble in kyūdō, jiu-jitsu, and kenjutsu each. Despite being capable of defeating all three of them easily should a combat ensue, Akaza is more than satisfied with the knowledge that the unexpected and only friend he’s ever made is safe from the scum of humanity.

And despite his better judgement, Akaza has actually enjoyed his short stay with [Name]. Aside from her kindness, he sees that she’s also understanding and considerate with other people’s plight. She seems to also possess the patience of a saint, and only gets angry for the right reasons. She knows not to pry with other people’s business if they choose to be secretive, but she’s also perceptive enough to know if someone is bearing any malicious intent or ill will towards her. But what Akaza finds endearing about her the most is that she is a genuine person - every action and decision she makes doesn’t contain even an ounce of a hidden agenda of some sort.

After his stay, Akaza surprises himself with visiting [Name] at Magome whenever he can. He thinks at first that she will make a great asset with his search for the blue spider lily, what with her owning a flower shop and all. Slowly, however, he finds that the reason for his visit becomes less and less about the rare and mysterious his master has long coveted.

The Upper Moon incognito gratefully accepts the tea [Name] serves him, fighting the urge to blush under her kind gaze. A bright smile is painted on her face as she begins chattering about the goings on in the town during his absence. Akaza shares the mundane events he encounters as well, mindful not to expose who he is, what his reasons for traveling are, and who he is allied with.

“…then my brothers chased him away and threatened to throw him to prison if he ever sets foot in town because I found out that he’s a liar and has already promised the tailor Hanako-san marriage!” [Name] recounts of a time, during Akaza’s absence, where a shameless man attempted to court her despite being already engaged to one of her friends. “You would’ve disliked him instantly if you’ve been here and saw what he did, Akaza-san. That man has no respect for women!”

Akaza quietly agrees, and it doesn’t escape his notice why the offender would offer [Name] courtship. She’s single and at the perfect age to get married. Aside from her behaviour, she is also an undeniably beautiful woman, with lively [colour] eyes, [length and colour] hair that flows like silk, and [tone] unblemished skin. She is very attractive, both in appearance and personality, and Akaza would be a hypocrite if he denies ever wondering what she’d look like in a shiromuku.

Heat spreads on Akaza’s cheeks at the thought. Maybe… maybe when he’s done with his quest and Lord Muzan has finally achieved his goal, maybe Akaza can…

He shakes his head at the thought. As much as he wants to court [Name] and later ask for her hand in marriage, he has a feeling that his master may not approve.

But maybe Lord Muzan can make an exception? Maybe if Akaza can finally present the demon lord his long coveted blue spider lilies, maybe he’ll grant the third Upper Moon any desire he’d request?

Akaza falters, almost dropping the cup and hearing [Name]’s worried gasp. He’s her friend, why is he thinking and desiring of marriage, of all things? And since when has he started to fantasize about making [Name] his woman? Does a male friend think of his female friend the way he does these past few months of knowing her?

“I’m sorry,” he tells her with a reassuring smile. The lie – he’s the only one who manages to deceive her, why? – comes out smoothly from his lips as he greedily drinks in her reciprocating smile, “I’m just tired from the long journey. I apologize for making you worry.”

Red paints [Name]’s cheeks as she holds the tray close to her chest. Akaza likes to think that it is because she is affected by his smile, just as hers affects him in more ways than one.

“O-Oh!” She blinks in surprise and ducks her head in embarrassment at his claim. “I’m sorry for dragging you off to chat as soon as you came, Akaza-san! Please stay here and let me tidy up your room!”

She is up to her feet before he can stop her, and he tilts his head in curiosity when she rushes back to him with an excited smile on her pretty face.

“Before I forget–! You should come to the forest with me, tomorrow, Akaza-san!” [Name] tells him, looking positively thrilled that it bleeds into Akaza’s chest. “I found something that I want to show only you!”

Something that has excited her– something that she wants to show only to him?

Akaza smiles softly at her retreating form, anticipation building in his entire being. He can’t wait for tomorrow to come.

The trek to the forest has showered Akaza with opportunity to spend more time alone with [Name]. While her older brothers have been kind and open to him, they still exude that protective air around her whenever Akaza’s gaze stays at her longer than they’re comfortable with.

Kiso Valley is beautiful during the summer season. He admires the way [Name]’s face lights up as she points at the flowers they pass by on the trail, explaining to Akaza that the area is where she mostly gets and cultivates the flowers she sells in her shop. He’s seen and heard her talk about her beloved shop and flowers for what seems to be a hundred times already but Akaza doesn’t tire about the topic – not one bit, not when [Name] glows with passion for the things she loves.

The trail soon becomes steep, and Akaza is quick grab [Name] by the waist when she almost stumbles in the uneven ground. He can feel her softness through the fabric of her kimono, marvelling at how perfect she fits against his battle-hardened frame. They stare at each other in surprise, the close proximity between the two of them painting their faces a bright shade of red. Akaza reluctantly lets her go, immediately missing her soft and sweet frame against his, and he wonders if it has just been his imagination working in overdrive when he notices that [Name] sort of looks like she is feeling the same. He offers her his hand instead, and his heart leaps with joy when she shyly accepts his offer.

[Name] looks around fifteen minutes later, seemingly checking for anyone in the trail with them.

“Do you see anyone else here, Akaza-san?” she then asks him, her free hand clutching the sleeve of his dark blue gi like a child looking for an adult’s guidance. Akaza bites his lip to keep himself from smiling at the adorable sight, and focuses in their surroundings.

Utilizing his heightened perceptions, Akaza shakes his head at [Name] when the only battle spirit he senses in the area is hers. “We’re the only ones here, [Name]-san,” he tells her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

[Name] smiles eagerly up at him and, to his surprise, leads him off the trail. They walk in silence deeper into the forest, to Akaza’s mounting confusion. [Name] seems to be growing more excited while they walk, and a gasp of delight slips past her lips when they reached a small clearing.

“They’re here again!” she exclaims giddily and excitedly tugs Akaza along with her. Akaza looks around, unable to find the source of her excitement until his blues eyes shifts their focus on the small patch of flowers in the middle of the clearing.

“Look, Akaza-san! Aren’t they pretty?”

Heart beating wildly in his throat, Akaza gazes wide-eyed at the blue spider lilies before him. He cannot believe what he is seeing, cannot believe that the one thing his master has been looking for for centuries now lay in front of him.

Akaza’s done it, he has succeeded more than the rest of his fellow Upper Moons! His long search for the mysterious blue spider lily has finally come to an end!

[Name]’s delighted laughter reaches Akaza’s ears, snapping him out of his stupor. He watches as she plucks one of the blue spider lilies and shyly offers it to him.

“I knew the sight of them would render you speechless,” she tells him softly, [colour] eyes glowing with pride and happiness, “just like they did to me when I first saw them two years ago.”

Akaza lets [Name] guide him down until they are both seated on the grassy earth. He takes the proffered flower and studies it with open curiosity, prompting her to tell him what she knows of the strange flowers.

“I found them by accident, you know,” [Name] says. “My first thought upon seeing them was how much money I could be earning should I sell them, but I realized that they’re better off staying here and flourishing by themselves. They’re strange, see, and I found out why the hard way. From what I’ve observed, they only bloom for three days every year! They only bloom during daylight and wilt when the sun sets. How very strange!”

Ah. So that was why Lord Muzan’s search has been ruthless for the past centuries. The only thing he needs to fully unlock the immortality he so craves is perfectly guarded by the Sun he cannot conquer. And with such a short lifespan, it’s no wonder his fellow Upper Moons’ contacts cannot find even the shadow of the blue spider lilies.

The success belongs to Akaza now, doesn’t it? He’s finally found the blue spider lilies. Plans to contact Lord Muzan and tell the latter of his find runs rampant in Upper Moon Three’s mind, but [Name]’s smiling face instantly derails his thought process.

He knows Lord Muzan is a man who believed that his word is absolute. If Akaza tells him that he’s found the flowers through [Name], he is sure that the progenitor of demons would hold her accountable for his centuries’ worth of fruitless searching. Lord Muzan will accuse her of keeping the blue spider lilies’ existence and location a secret, thus endangering her and her brothers’ life should Akaza report his find.

Akaza reminds himself that his loyalty is with Muzan alone. But what stands in his way of proving that loyalty comes in the form of the only friend he’s ever made his whole life – a friend whom he is quickly falling in love with. Would he be willing to trade the happiness [Name]’s presence offers him for the undying loyalty and servitude he’s first offered Muzan? Would he willingly go far as to endangering her life for the fulfillment of his mission?

“I’ve been keeping their existence a secret from the townsfolk and the outsiders,” he hears [Name] speak to fill in the silence between them. Akaza looks at her, and he is reduced to admiring the way her cheeks flushed under his gaze, how her eyes brightened the longer she stares at him.

Akaza’s heart is flooded with a surge of warmth and deep affection at the words she say next.

“I want them to be just mine and Akaza-san’s secret, because… because Akaza-san is special to me!”

The way [Name] speaks with such conviction has Akaza come to a decision himself.

He would rather get himself into trouble for keeping his discovery a secret than to have the only light in his life be snuffed out because of him. He would lie to his fellow Demon Moons, would lie to Muzan himself, if it would keep [Name] safe. Akaza has never been this sure his entire life – in exchange for making him experience what it feels and means to be happy again, he would willingly die in his master’s hands in exchange of [Name]’s safety.

At the end of the day and their trip to the forest, Akaza promises [Name] that the blue spider lilies’ existence will be their secret.

The third Upper Moon – should he still call himself that? – gazes up at the moon through his room’s window. He can hear [Name] moving in her room next to his and soon enough, her soft footsteps approach. Akaza turns just in time to see her silhouette through the shoji door.

“Akaza-san? I’m sorry for the intrusion, but are you still awake?”

He gets up from his seat and moves to open the door. [Name] blushes under his gaze. She is carrying a tea set on a tray with her, and she seems to be fidgeting where she stands.

“W-Would you like a cup of tea before you sleep?”

She is acting like a caring wife, and Akaza is now convinced that he won’t trade her for anything in the world.

He lifts a hand and softly pats her twice on the head, smiling affectionately at the meek smile she gives him.

“Only if you join me,” he softly tells her. He quickly backpedals, however, when he realizes that he hasn’t been clear with his words when [Name] gapes up at him with wide eyes and a deep blush on her face. “W-With the tea– d-drinking t-tea, I mean! Please, h-have a cup of t-tea with me, b-b-before I sleep!”

Face still flushed a lovely shade of red, [Name]’s tinkling laughter echoes in her humble home as she enters Akaza’s room.

#akaza #akaza x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny

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13dead-ends · 4 years

Text

Train Ride

Young Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Henry for years and after high school you decide to go on a trip of a lifetime. Your longtime crush on him only gets worse as the trip goes on.

Word Count: 4531

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please wear a condom, folks), oral/face riding, swearing, teeth rotting fluff at the end,

A/N: So my first smut is here! It’s shortish, but I liked it, Also @hellcaster901 said it was good so I posted. This fic literally came from a picture of Henry Cavill I sent to her. Thanks for encouraging me to post anything and everything!

Enjoy!! <3

I stared at Henry in as he ran down the beach into the water. His back muscles glinted in the sun as he came back up, hair wet and trunks clinging to his thighs. I swallowed, adjusting my position in the beach chair, the umbrella keeping me from frying completely. While my skin had burned plenty of times on this trip, Henry’s had only gotten golden brown. Only a burn every now and then on his nose and cheeks. I sighed. Why do I notice every little detail about Henry? I shook my head and went back to my book; staring was starting to get creepy. I couldn’t really focus on it though, the heat, and the waves, and other things distracted me. Henry’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since middle school and decided to go backpacking a few years after we graduated high school. We were on country four now. The Bahamas had treated us nicely, but it was our last day here. We had decided on America next, we would fly to New York and spend a few days there, then travel the country by train or bus. We were kind of winging it a little, but it was nice. Especially with him.

I had fallen head over heels for him in 11th grade. When we were younger I didn’t see him as more than a friend, but when came back from living with his uncle that summer, something hit me. More like punched me in the gut. I don’t know what it was or why, but here I am, almost three years later and still feeling butterflies from just him looking at me. I shut my book, I had reread the same paragraph a thousand times. I set it on my towel and sunk in my chair, soaking in the heat, and shutting my eyes.

“Y/N,” Henry had walked up so quietly that I jumped when he spoke. “You should get in, it’s perfect.” I opened my eyes, and there was Henry still out in the sun, drying off. I tried to calm my heart down a little with a breath.

“I will, I’m just enjoying the heat for a little.”

“Did you put on sunscreen?” Henry had not let the fact that I had turned lobster red in Egypt go. I had forgot to put on sunscreen when we went to the pyramids. He teased me, but he also liked to check in on me.

“Yes, mom.” He chuckled and it was like music to my ears. “Did you?” I pulled my sunglasses down and stared at him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He plopped down on the towel next to me, getting a water out of the cooler. Before opening it he pressed the cold thing on my thigh and I yelped, flinching away.

“Fuck off,” but I was laughing. He handed the bottle to me and got out another one. I drank a long swig and stared at his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“Any places in America that are a must-see?” He leaned back, laying on the towel, his abs flexed under his skin.

“New Orleans, that’s for sure. I’m also dragging you to a broadway show in New York.” I had gotten tickets to A show I thought we’d both like.

“Fine, but you’re bungee jumping with me.” I pursed my lips, jumping off a bridge did not seem like fun, but then I imagined doing it with Henry, and it didn’t seem too bad. “I want to see the Grand Canyon.”

“Me too. I want to go to Denver too.”

“You wanna buy weed don’t you?” He laughed out loud.

“Yes I do! And there’s nothing wrong with that.” I laughed. We discussed possible destinations and then he dragged me into the water. It was nice, though the salt stung my eyes. It was fun to be with him.

…

I rubbed my eyes as I walked behind Henry as we filed off the plane it was a long flight, but we made it. I was just exhausted. We were taking the rest of the day to rest, our Air BnB sounded like heaven right now. Henry was almost to the flight attendants at the door of the plane. I noticed the two ladies who had ran the flight whispering as we approached.

“Thank you, ladies,” Henry said as he passed, and they grinned and told him to have a good day and safe travels. When he was off, and I was walking past them I only got a thank you for flying with us. I scoffed a little and rolled my eyes. I stepped off the plane and moved up, so I was side by side with Henry.

“As soon as we get there I’m sleeping.” I still felt my eyes droop with tiredness.

“Did you sleep on the plane?” Henry had slept through most of the flight. I couldn’t sleep on planes.

“Nope,” I sighed.

“Well, you sleep, I’ll get some food and things for the next few days.”

“Okay, sounds good.” We went through the motions of customs and airport craziness, then took a cab to the place. It was still daylight, but as soon as I saw my room, I was out.

The next day we went around the city and did touristy things. I got a good picture of Henry looking out onto Times Square without him knowing. He looked so good with his curly hair, grown out a little longer than usual and skin glowing from the Bahama sun. I smiled at him as he took in all the signs and logos flashing on the screens.

“When’s the show?” I was pulled out of my trance as he turned back around to face me.

“Tonight, at seven.” He nodded. “We can go eat and just go straight there.” We ate a small bar we found and then went to the show. Us only bringing what was necessary we didn’t have fancy clothes to wear. I had a sundress and Henry honestly just wore a nicer looking T-shirt and pants. We didn’t care anyways.

“My lady,”Henry held out his arm for me as I got out of the cab. I took it and stood. In front of me was the Broadway theatre and I grinned.

“Oh my god, Henry I’m so excited.” He chuckled.

“It’d better be good.” He teased.

“I hope you like it, I tried to pick something we’d both like.” He nodded, pulling me closer to his side as people walked past.

“I’m sure I will. Shall we?” He led me up the steps and to our seats. They weren’t the best, but I still couldn’t wait. As the lights went down and the show started, I felt Henry’s eyes on me. I turned to him and he was staring at me.

“What?” I tilted my head at him.

“Nothing, just watch the show.” I squinted at him and turned back to the stage. The show was amazing, cheesy broadway songs were already stuck in my head as the curtains closed for intermission. Henry and I went out to have a drink before it started back up again.

“Please tell me you like it a little bit?” I nudged Henry as I sipped on my wine. Already feeling the usual warmth alcohol gave me.

“I like it but stop worrying about me. This was really for you anyways.”

“I know but I want you to have fun too.”

“I am.” He looked at me. “This is the best trip anyone could ask for.” I grinned and hugged his neck. He squeezed my waist, his strong hands sending shivers down my spine.

“I’m so glad we did this.” I muttered only for him to hear.

After the show, I was tipsy, and we decided to just walk back to our place. It had cooled down and it felt nice on my hot skin. I always got like this when I drank. Henry on the other hand held his drink well and walked beside me, looking beautiful in the street lamps.

“Okay now you’re staring at me.” I turned to look straight ahead, and he chuckled.

“I think we have a staring problem.” I joked, but I knew I did. “We’re just that beautiful.” He was that beautiful. “I mean I do but look at you.” I punched his shoulder, which hurt me more that it did him.

“Shut up, as if you didn’t notice those guys staring at you on the plane.”

“What guys?” Henry wasn’t looking at me when he spoke.

“They were a few isles down and I could feel them looking at us, well you.” I blinked.

“I didn’t see them.”

“I did, they were like vultures.” I glanced at him, but his face was blank. I was too busy noticing those flight attendants to notice those guys. “I can’t believe you didn’t see them.” I shrugged.

“Maybe I was distracted,” I mumbled.

“Don’t mumble like that.” He shook his head. “You sounded like you did in middle school.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t talk about middle school me.” I laughed.

“I’ve just been thinking about when we first met and how we are now. It’s so different.” I wrapped an arm around him, well not really around him he was so big now.

“Don’t get sappy on me now Cavill.” I squeezed him.

“No, I’m just glad, that we’re still friends. Seriously.” I swallowed but pushed a smile onto my lips.

“So am I, Henry.” I really was, I couldn’t live without him in my life, so if that had to be as his friend then I was okay with that, but I would still love him. I let my arm fall back to my side. “Ha, remember that time you asked Kim out in tenth grade.” He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips together. “You’re telling me I mumbled, she couldn’t hear a word.”

“I swear, little girl.” He grabbed my waist and I screamed, the nickname ringing in my ears. He lifted me off my feet and threw me over his shoulder.

“Henry, I’m wearing a dress you prick.” He held my skirt down, His arm right under my ass.

“I won’t let anyone see.” He chuckled and I huffed, arms swinging down. I did have a nice view of his butt from here.

“You were so nervous though.” He squeezed my thigh hard. “It’s okay, it was cute.” His grip lessened, but it was still holding me in place.

“At least I had you there to comfort me after rejection.”

“You gotta put me down if I you want me here for future rejection.” I don’t think he’d ever have a rejection again. He wasn’t that 16 year old anymore. He set me back down but kept his hands on my waist.

“And I you. Just like I was there for the Jacob break up.” My face dropped, and I shoved him. We walked back to the apartment teasing each other and when we got back, I pretty much passed out.

. . .

I swallowed at the tiny train compartment. It was close quarters for the two of us. Henry was towering over me as he shoved our bags in the top compartment above the small couch that would eventually turn into the bed. His chest was brushing up against mine, my neck felt hot and I turned my face to the side so my nose wouldn’t brush his shirt.

“There,” He shut the compartment and smiled down at me. “I’m excited.” I cleared my throat and sat down on the couch, Henry plopping down with me.

“Me too, it’s just smaller than I thought.” He just shrugged, looking out the window at the city.

“This train stops almost every day, and there’s a lounge to go to. We don’t have to be in here the entire ride.” I nodded.

“I know, but you work out too much and you’re gonna suffocate me when we sleep.” I almost choked at the thought. We were sharing a bed. I hadn’t shared a bed with Henry since we were kids. I stared at my feet.

“Is that how I get rid of you?” I kicked him. “Stop hitting me when you don’t have a comeback.”

“Stop teasing me and I’ll stop hitting you.” He leaned forward our noses almost touching.

“Never, love.” I may as well be putty. I’d let this man tease me all he wanted if it meant being with him. I moved back before I could do something stupid. Henry blinked once and leaned back as well. The train started moving and Henry got us some snacks and drinks from the restaurant car. I could breathe for a second when he was gone. I rested my head on the back of the chair. He was gonna kill me. I chewed on my lip. The worst part was that the only person I wanted to get advice from was the one I was freaking out about in the first place. I leaned forward my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I rubbed my temples and tried to relax.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Henry came back inside, and the room got smaller.

“Nothing,” I sat up, flipping my hair back. “I think I’m tired.” Henry sat down and rubbed my back.

“I bet,” His hand stayed on my back. “We can put the bed down now; we both could use some sleep.” I swallowed, that was the opposite of what I wanted, well not really, but I couldn’t handle that yet.

“Well, if you’re not tired, we can leave it up, so it doesn’t take up so much space.”

“No, I’m tired too. We can just eat and take a nap for the ride.” He handed me a bowl of grapes.

“Okay,” We ate, and Henry told me about this game he got for his laptop, but I was trying not to have a panic attack, staring into my grapes, disassociating a little.

“Alright, you’re zoning out.” Henry was waving a hand in my face. “Time for sleep.” Henry managed to get the cushions in the right spots and made the pillows fluffy and ready for us.

“Get in,” I looked at him, but crawled into the blanket, it wasn’t the most comfortable, but I did feel sleep start to tug at my brain as I laid my head down. Henry came in next to me, his side brushing mine. He barely fit without me being squished against the wall. I couldn’t help but giggle at his awkward movements in the bed. He was just so big.

“Shut up,” Then my giggles stopped as he slid his arm around my waist, pulling my back flush against his chest. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breathe. “I think this is the best way we fit.” His voice was right at my ear and goosebumps rose down my arms. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just me.” He squeezed me once.

“Sorry,” I pressed my warm cheek into the pillow.

When I woke up it was dark in the train, the curtains were closed, but a small bit of light peaked out from underneath. I wasn’t turned towards the wall anymore, my nose brushed Henry’s chest as he breathed deeply. He smelled like cologne and nostalgia. I shut my eyes again and pressed my face into his chest. He was asleep, so who cares? A gravelly ‘hmm’ made my heart lurch.

“Someone’s cuddly,” Henry’s voice was low and close. My heart started beating fast I looked up at him. “Hey, there she is.” He smiled at me and my legs felt like jello. He furrowed his brows at me.

“Henry, I-“ I cleared my throat, not knowing what came over me. He brushed my hair out of my face and my stomach flipped.

“What?” He kept his hand on my cheek, his blue eyes glinting in the dim light. “Tell me, please.” I pulled myself up and just kissed him. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for him to push me away, but instead he pulled me closer. I let out a gasp and he just pressed into me harder. His tongue made its way in my mouth and I hooked a leg around his hip. “Finally,” He growled as he moved his mouth to my neck.

“Finally?” I titled my head back, breathless, but he stopped.

“Yes, finally. I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N.” He continued kissing my neck and slid his hand down my side, landing on my breast, he kneaded it and I moaned out. “You’ve just been too distracted to notice.” He finished but wouldn’t let me respond by kissing my mouth again. I gripped his T-shirt, pulling him even closer.

“I wanted you too.” I sounded airy and out of breath as I spoke, he kissed me all over my face.

“That’s music to my ears.” He started peeling my top off, but a loud rap came at the door. We froze in place, the top covering my face.

“Dinner’s ready in the dining car.” An attendant called. I rolled my eyes.

“Alright, thank you.” Henry replied and when we heard the footsteps fade away, he ripped the shirt of the rest of the way. “Do you mind if we miss dinner?”

“No,” I moaned out as he kissed my collar, making his way down to my breast. “Henry,” I moaned his name as he unhooked my bra and let his lips surround my nipple. I threaded my fingers through his hair, feeling tingles shoot over my skin from his lips. I pulled him back up and kissed him, holding his cheeks so he wouldn’t pull away. I never wanted him to go away. He wrapped his big arms around me, enclosing me inside. He grunted when I pulled his hair.

“Take your shirt off,” I pulled my hand out of his hair to tug at his sleeve. He immediately tugged it off and I ran my hands down his chest. He groaned.

“Fuck,” He held my waist, his fingers digging into my skin, then suddenly one of them dipped down into my shorts and he grabbed my ass, hard. I gasped in his mouth, and he grinned. He pulled me closer and I felt his bulge press against the inside of my thigh, and I quivered. He felt so big already and his pants weren’t even off. He pushed his other hand under my waist band and pushed the shorts down, he let me kick them off and then rolled over on top of me. My chest heaved, I felt hot, and Henry’s lips looked red and swollen. He was propped up on his hands, his knees pressing into my thighs. He stared down at me, only in my panties now. I wanted to look away from his blue eyes, but they almost glittered in what little light we had. “God, so beautiful.” He brushed a finger down my side and goosebumps rose in his wake.

“So are you.” I mumbled, his eyes shut, and he had a smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t mumble.” He was stern, but his hand brushing down my cheek made me smile. He leaned down and kissed me, his hands held my waist down as I tried to arch my back.

“Henry,” I whined, letting my hands slid down to his waistband. “Please get these off.” He smirked, but pushed the clothing off, his erection on full display. He was huge.

“Now you,” He hooked a finger in my panties and pulled them off. “I swear, I’m gonna-“ He stopped.

“What?” He looked me up and down. “Henry, you’re taking too long.” I tried pulling him back to me, but he stopped me.

“I’m trying to decide how I want you.” I bit my lip his words sending shocks through me, and then he grabbed my waist flipping us over. Now I was straddling him and my hands were on his chest, my hair hung over our faces. He tucked it behind my ear and kissed me, but not for very long. He grabbed my waist tightly and moved me slowly up so that my pussy was over his face.

“Fuck, Henry,” I rested my elbow on the wall of the train. Was Henry about to eat me out? Like this? On a fucking train.”

“Is this okay, baby?” He rubbed the back of my thighs gently.

“Yes, yes. Very okay.” I sounded like a child, but he just laughed, the air hitting my core.

“You’re already so wet. Is that all for me?” I could only moan back. “What a good girl.”

“Henry, can you please-“ I was cut off by his mouth on my pussy. I covered my mouth to keep from the entire train from hearing me.

“Is that what you wanted?” He whispered, then went back to kissing and licking me. My legs were quivering, Henry’s hands were doing most of the work holding me up. “God, you taste so good.” I whimpered under my hand.

“Henry,” I felt like I was gonna burst. “I think I-“ His mouth stopped and he pushed me back and his cock slid through my folds. I moaned out and he grunted. I fell over, my forehead on his chest.

“Fuck, I want to feel you.” Henry growled in my ear.

“Please, I want to feel you too.” I kissed his chest, feeling sticky with sweat.

“So many pleases, what a polite girl.” His hand slid down between us and he positioned the tip of his cock at my entrance. I took a shaky breath. “Are you ready baby?”

“Yes,” My eyes closed as I felt his head push into me. “Fuck, oh my god-“ I was a mess above him, but as he entered into me fully he pushed me up, so I was sitting on him.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.” I must’ve looked insane, but he smirked up at me. He gripped my hips and started moving them for me. He was so large that every new movement made him brush a new part of me. I was going to snap. “Yes, there you go.” He grunted and groaned as he fucked me and it only added more pleasure. I loved hearing him. He picked up the pace, thrusting into me now. I arched my back.

“Please make me cum, Henry,” I was out of breath as I spoke, my chest heaved for air.

“God, yes, baby girl. Cum for me.” That was all I needed; bliss washed over me as a came. My legs pressed into Henry and my hands fisted over the blankets. “Good girl,” I collapse over him, my body flopping over his. He locked his arms around me, our skin pressing together, and he thrusted up into me until he came inside me. I whimpered at the overwhelming feeling having only just come down. He grunted in my ear as he fell over the edge, the sound sending tingles through me. We were panting together, my face pushed into his neck. He released me from his arms, and then pulled me off of him. I shivered as I felt the emptiness without him.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He ran his fingers through my hair, and I nuzzled closer.

“Yeah, I am.” I whispered. He moved me off him and kissed me.

“Let’s clean you up, okay?” I could only nod, feeling too tired to do much else. He got a towel and wiped away his mess for me, and then started kissing me. Fluttery little kisses up my stomach, in between my breasts. I giggled as he reached my neck. He threw the towel on the floor and kissed my lips. I looped my arms around his neck, smiling into his mouth. “Why didn’t I do this sooner?” He pulled away and laid beside me, pulling me to his side. His kissed the top of my head.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” I drew circles in his chest and the sweat on my body started to cool.

“I tried to give you hints.” He chuckled. “I literally invited you to kiss me earlier.” I smacked his chest and sat up, feeling goosebumps rise, it was getting chilly. “Hey, where are you going?” I crawled over Henry, my knees on one side and my hands on the other. I picked up his shirt from the ground and pulled it on. I barely had my head through the hole before Henry pulled me back to his chest.

“I’m completely oblivious.” I scoffed. I was too distracted by him to notice him. His arms were around me tight. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he pulled up the blankets.

“It’s okay, you finally figured it out.”

I woke up in the big spoon position with Henry. I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. He liked me too. He wanted me too. I pressed my nose into his back, wrapping my legs around him, resembling a koala bear. His large hand slid over my arm grabbing my hand.

“Hey baby,” His voice was low with sleep.

“Good morning.” I replied. He turned around to face me, he was smiling, and his eyes looked extra blue. He wrapped me up in his arms around me and I kissed his lips. We were making out like teenagers for a while and then my stomach growled.

“Shit, we missed dinner.” Henry chuckled.

“Shall we get breakfast then?” Henry sat up and opened the curtains. I squinted at the bright sun. The train hadn’t stopped the entire night.

“Can we bring it back here?” I wanted it just to be me and him for a while, and I’m pretty sure I’d be waddling down the train car. I laid on my back, hands over my stomach, watching the scenery go by.

“How about I just go get it? You can stay in my shirt a little longer.” He kissed my nose and got dressed and went out. When his footsteps were gone I squealed into my pillow. Part of me thought it was all a dream, but he was here and didn’t reject me. The rest of this trip would be completely different. It wasn’t long before he came back with a pile of food. We didn’t bother putting the bed away, we were sitting on it and cuddling anyway. When the train started to slow down, we had finished eating and Henry had gotten his laptop out and I got dressed. He wanted to show me how to play some game. He was sitting against the wall and I was in between his legs, the laptop on my lap. His arms reach around me to show me how to use the keys.

“Henry you know I’m not good at these.” He chuckled.

“I know, it’s just fun seeing you try.” I rolled my eyes.

“Where are we again?” I looked out the window as the train stopped. Henry shut his laptop, setting it aside and getting out of bed.

“Let’s go find out.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room.

#henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #fanfiction #oneshots #junewrites

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