#Mills still has to deal with hearing his voice in his head but he has gotten pretty good at blocking him out aside from some certain places

[heartfullofleeches]

everytime i see the name v you can be assured that i am going to butt in.

honestly, v is definitely the type to hire a hitman just because he got in an argument with someone. sure, he could deal with it by himself — but he is a lazy bum and has his... "priorities".

v meeting up with the hitman and immediately his jaw falls off. the most he was expecting is a bald man in shades and a suit, not an incarnate of a divine being!

v watching hitman aim their sniper on the victim — he can't help but observe the focus in your eyes and the steadiness and precision of your hand near the trigger. he praises the beauty of your hands, and unfortunately, his mind got to wandering. thinking about how your hands would feel on his cock — would you focus on his cock like you focus the aim on your targets? would you stroke his cock with absolute precision?

he's put out of his state when he hears a 'bang!' and flinches.

"the job is done, mr. vince."

"could you... do me next?"

"..."

This is bullshit.

If he knew he had to go outside to have that bastard killed, he would've just done it himself.

V drums his fingers against the dinner table - eyes scanning the venue for anyone that might fit his imagined description of the person he's looking for. Rugged, shaven head, nice suit and tie - maybe a few visible scars from their line of work. While there a number of suits in a fine establishment, they were just the run of the mill rich assholes he'd grown accusation to through his life.

Sweat beading down his neck, V pulls at his collar. He hadn't even dressed up for his grandmother's funeral a year ago and now here he was in a nice button up and slacks for a complete stranger - and it isn't even for a date. If the waitress came by again to check if he was ready to order his tie would be an easy ticket out of here without the embarrassment of walking out looking like a dateless loser. He can already hear them laughing whichever way this goes. Frustrated, V folds his arms, shutting his eyes as tries to blend with the background of the uncomfortable booth he sat in. Maybe if he keeps them closed long enough when they open he'll be back at home - or dead. Either is an acceptable option at this point.

"Excuse me-"

V shoots up from his seat as warm breath fans his ear. The voice, no louder than a whisper, sends a chill down his spine as it flows from the lips of its speaker like smooth honey. A far cry from the unpleasantly sweet tone that waitress threw on to hide her thinly veiled annoyance at seeing V still hogging an empty table. He looks up at the looming figure at his table side - jaw slack as his eyes adjust to the light that envelopes them.

"I don't mean to interrupt whatever it is you are doing, but would you happen to be a Mr. Vincent Carbone?"

V's mouth opens like the jaws of a dying animal fighting for its final breath. The person before him was dressed in date casual clothing. He stares at their exposed collar from the lower cut of their shirt and toned muscles from their sleeves. He rubs at his eyes. This... couldn't be them. He had to be looking at a model. V's standards were pretty low his own admission, but from the way they carried themselves down to their physical attributes proved they were way out of his league.

"Yes... um, that's me... Just Vince is fine."

They tighten their lips with a small nod. V makes a note of how soft they look compared to his own chapped skin. He follows their every move as they sit down in their seat across from him - wasting no time as they pull a black folder from the brief case brought with them. He watches as their calloused fingertips turn each page - pondering what they might feel like around his-

"So - are you this guys secretary or....."

V flinches as their eyes snap up at him - emotionless face plagued by a hint of annoyance at his query. "I can assure you I do all of my work by myself, Mr. Carbone.... From the information you've given me, it appears you have had a fued with this person for quite some time despite numerous attempts to block and/or have them removed from the group of individuals you play games with, and wish to escalate matters further."

Breathing through their teeth, they shut the folder - placing it flat on the table. "Had I not done my research into your person, I'd consider this whole thing."

V feels tightness in the crotch of his slacks at the use of that word. Mr. Carbone. He's been referred to as such before, but the way it rolls off their tongue- V picks up his glass of water and fits it to his lips, trembling hands spilling the cool liquid all over his white shirt.

"R....research... You... know about me?"

"Yes. It's common for me to look into the backgrounds of all my clients. Make sure they have the funds to pay for my services and take note of what I can take as collateral if anything comes up. I know for certain you've got the cash, but the rest is still up in the air."

V swallows hard. "I already had the records of our conversation scrubbed and it's not like we talked much anyway... I don't trust cops much either."

Amused, the hitman's expression shifts from its blank slate for the first time as they offer him a small smile. "Good boy...."

V slaps a hand over his mouth to stiffle the whimper that almost slips out. The hitman retrieves a small flip phone from their briefcase and slides it across the table.

"From now on you will contact me from this device only. We will discuss how what methods you prefer in due time. Do you remember what else we talked about when we spoke over the phone?"

"Yea.... Half up front, half went it's done." V pulls a crumbled envelope from his pocket and hands it to them - savoring the brief moment of contact between his sweaty hands and the heat of their skin through their gloves. They count the bills briefly before sliding it into their back pocket. What V wouldn't do to be that piece of paper.

"I look forward to working with you, Sir. Something tells me we'll be hearing a lot from each other in the future."

".....you promise?"

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #male yandere #V my oc #yandere drabble

[lightvixxen]

stress relief

So my amazing friend ceebs or @maladaptive-day-dreams convinced me to write a st x cm crossover and well...Hopper/Reader/Hotch was born.

SUMMARY: Hopper and Hotch are working late when they decide to have some fun with the shoplifter that got dragged into the station earlier that day

WC:3134

WARNINGS: spit roasting, degrading, MMF threesome, reader's age is not confirmed but she IS 18+, spoiled brat! reader, rich!reader, modern!st, choking, name-calling, basic cm shit. not proofread

The BAU was called into a small town of indiana, Hawkins to be exact, the run of the mill serial killer who had a knack for kidnapping. The team could already tell this was going to be a hard case, seeing as the killer didn’t seem to have a type.

“How long does he keep them?” Emily pipes up, the file was already hard to Figure out since there was apparently no specific time frame the killer stuck to. 

“As of now that is undetermined…the local police there doesn’t have a single lead despite how small the town is.” Hotch told her, “Which is the exact reason we’ve been called in. They’ve been dealing with most likely the same killer for years so they thought a fresh pair of eyes would be good.” 

“So they have basically nothing?” The team asks at the same time, and Hotch nods. 

“It’s definitely not ideal but we have delt with worse…” Hotch’s statement was met with a chorus of agreement, they have delt with worse evidence before. 

Once the jet landed the team immediately went to the Hawkins police department, not wanting to waste another second not solving this case. Walking into the department they were almost immediately met with a bustling space of police officers. As they stood there looking around trying to find anyone that could help them, they hear a deep voice from behind them. 

“You guys the BAU?” the voice asks, as they turn around they’re met with a broad man with facial hair, he was a little chubby but they could tell he was at least a little fit. 

“Yes we are, I’m Unit Cheif Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA Morgan, JJ, Prentiss and Dr. Reid.” Hotch introduces each of them, pointing to the respective person.

“I’m Jim Hopper, chief of police.” They do the routine of shaking hands before Hopper shows them where they can set up.

“So what do you know about the killer we’re working with?” Hotch asks, hoping that getting information out of the file they were giving would somehow help them. 

Hopper scratches his head “Only that he’s one sick son of a bitch, while the time he keeps his victims are undetermined…we never find them, its like they just vanish into thin air.” Hotch nods, “okay, yeah, that’s actually helpful.” Hopper nods, before leaving them to work. 

—---

It had Only been a week and the team and the entire police department were stressed out of their minds. Still no new leads, suspects, nothing, It was as if the Killer was a ghost or something. It was 2pm when they dragged in a screaming girl, saying something about how her father will bail her out. They dragged her back into a holding cell about 20 minutes later as they weren’t getting an answer from anyone they called. 

Hotch walked out to where Hopper was standing with his arms crossed, looking over some officers desk and at his computer. 

“Don’t forget this is her third time-” Hopper looked over to Hotch with a questioning look. 

“Who was that? A suspect or-” 

Hopper laughed at his question, “God no, that was y/n l/n, she has some sticky fingers and has gotten caught shoplifting about three times now…we call her our resident spoiled brat. She comes from a rich family that resides here in Hawkins.” 

Hotch’s eyebrows raised at hearing that you came from a rich family. 

“If she’s rich why does she feel the need to shoplift?” 

“Daddy doesn’t give her attention, never has, i’ve caught her flirting with multiple of my officers before aswell.” 

Hotch nods “The typical daddy issues story…of course.” 

—--

It was late, Hotch was at one of the open desks, he needed to get out of the confined office space that was the conference room they were set up in before he went crazy. 

He looked over at the clock that told him it was about 1:15. He sighed, looking over to where Hopper was. 

“Did anyone ever come and get that one girl that got brought in earlier?” 

Hopper looked up from the file he was focused on and shook his head. 

“Nope, we called her daddy probably 5 times and he didn’t pick up, my guess is he’s tired of bailing his troublemaker daughter out.” Hotch laughed at that, usually in rich families that is the case, especially if its already known she’s trouble. 

“You’d think he’d be trying to cover up her arrest by now” 

“Oh he did the first two times…but this time she got caught at a busy hour with hundreds of people watching and word travels fast in a town like this.” 

Hotch laughs and nods once again, going back to the file infront of him. Another hour went by before Hopper got up grabbing Aarons attention. 

“I’m gonna check on our spoiled prisoner? Wanna come? Stretch your legs a little…actually fix your posture?” Hopper asks him and Aaron agrees, getting up and following the other man into the holding cell area. 

You were sat on the bed that they placed in the cell, leaning against the wall and facing the bars, you had no idea what time it was but the lack of guards told you that it was late. You perked up and the sound of a door opening and the sound of footsteps approaching, you had hoped it was Hopper or one of the officers coming with your father. 

While the man that accompanied Hopper wasn’t your father you definitely weren’t disappointed. He was tall and broad, dark hair resting ontop of his head and a suit telling that wasn’t a cop, he was fucking hot, he practically oozed dominance, just like Hopper did, telling you he was in a positon of power. 

“Ooo who’s this?” you ask, getting up from your spot and walking up to the bars and leaning against them, hoping to get a better look of the mystery man. “You are definitely not a cop..” 

Hotch looks down at you, and heat travels straight to your core at the realization that even from behind the bars he still has to look down to see you. 

“Your right, i’m a FBI agent.” God even his voice was sexy, you bit your lip staring at him, before you turned your attention to Hopper. 

“Why are you guys here? Did daddy finally pick up?” you ask the two men, only to be met with a head shake. 

“You might be stuck here for a little while if your waiting for your daddy to bail you out.” Hopper told you and you groaned. 

“Then why the fuck are you here?” 

“Just to check on you, the routine.” 

You leaned against the bars once again, bored out of your mind. 

“Can’t you just…let me go? I mean you already know the bail and fine will be paid…” 

Hopper sighed, “You know damn well I can’t do that, its a good way to lose my job.” 

You pouted, giving him your best puppy eyes, 

“Pleasee Hop…I promise to be on best behavior when I get out, I won’t tell anyone, pink promise!” 

“No is the final answer sweetheart, Those puppy eyes have no effect on me and you know that. Also how many times have I told you not to call me that. 

While you were talking to Hopper Aaron finally got a good look at you, you were wearing a short white crop top that read ‘angel’ across your boobs, paired with an equally short pink skirt, if you could even call it that, it only came up to the tops of your thighs. 

“Can you at least let me out for a little bit? I’m bored out of my mind in here.” Aaron looked at Hopper, expecting him to say no and just leave it at that, instead he fished the cells keys out of his pocket and unlocked the cell. 

“Turn around.” he told you in a stern voice 

“Seriously you know I won’t-” 

“He said turn around, your lucky we’re even letting you leave this cell at all.” Hotch snapped at you, using the same tone Hopper had. You rolled your eyes before turning around and placing your hands behind your back. 

You felt warm hands before the cold metal of the handcuffs, you guessed it was Hopper because of how rough he was with your arms. 

“Ow! Too tight!” you whined when he tightened them, your back automatically straightening at the pressure on your wrists.

“They’re not and you know it, stop being fucking dramatic.” you heard Hoppers gruff voice from behind you before he escorted you out to the office area of the police department. 

“Sit” He told you, pushing you into the chair next to his desk, you did what you were told, just glad you were out of the dingy cell. Looking around the station you were able to stare at the FBI agent, noticing the obvious stress on both of their faces. 

“Hey FBI agenttt” you called out to him in a singsongy voice, grabbing his attention, once you were sure you had his attention you asked his name, since neither him or Hopper had mentioned it. 

“My name is Aaron Hotchner.” He told you with the most monotone voice you have probably heard come from anyones mouth. You smiled at him, before looking at Hopper. 

“Why can’t you be that nice to me? He actually gave me a clear answer without calling me a name…” you pouted and  Hopper looked at you before looking towards Aaron, “Because he doesn’t know how much of a spoiled brat you can be.”

“But I think I’m starting to learn.” Aaron chimed in, you gasped, looking at both men infront of you, 

“I’m not a spoiled brat!” you huffed, and the two men looked at eachother and Hopper laughed, 

“Thats something only a brat would say!” Hopper told you, and Hotch agreed with him. 

“I would cross my arms if I could right now I hope you know that.” 

“We know sweetheart, we know.” is all Hopper said before getting back to work, Hotch joining him and returning to the file he had been going over and over for hours already. 

Only a few minutes had passed before you spoke up.

“Are you sure there’s nothing that can get me out of here without my dad?! Seriously I’ll do anything! Please! Just name what you want!” you begged, tearing the mens attention away from their work, Hopper glared at you. 

“What part of no do you not understand? Were you never told it growing up?” 

“No” You giggled, “I got everything I asked for so I wouldn’t bother my daddy” you smirked at the dumbfounded faces on the two men. 

“Oh don’t act like your surprised my family is rich, we could afford the things I wanted!” 

“No fucking wonder your so spoiled, you got everything you wanted just by being annoying.” Hopper grumbled, and you just beamed. 

“And I’m very good at being annoying” You smirked again “So you should just let me go now, i’ll talk to my father when I get home and he can pay-” 

Aaron got up and walked to where you were sitting, grabbing a handful of your hair. 

“Or maybe we should just duct tape your mouth shut, that way you can’t bother us…or better yet…” He trailed off looking at Hopper, “We could use her as some…stress relief” 

Hopper smirked at his suggestion, “I think thats an amazing idea actually” You felt heat pool in your belly immediately and the hungry gazes that the two men gave you, “She’d probably enjoy it too, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Hopper got up to stand next to Hotch, his hand grabbing your chin. You nodded quickly, if you weren’t going to be let out tonight this was the next best outcome, at least you wouldn’t be bored anymore. 

“Words pretty girl.” Hotch spoke up, letting go of your hair. 

“Yes, fuck yes, please” You once again begged. 

“You sound so much better when your begging” Hopper told you before yanking you out of your seat, forcing you onto your stomach over his desk. 

“Lets see…which end do you want first, Hotch? Mouth or pussy?” Hopper asked standing next to your figure. 

“I’ll take her mouth first, you’ve known the little slut longer, you deserve her cunt.” 

Hopper smirked wildly before taking his place behind you, flipping your skirt up he tuts when he sees the damp patch in your panties, “God you really are a slut, your already wet, love the idea of two men old enough to be your father using you?” You nod and he slaps your ass harshly, obviously expecting a verbal response. 

“Yes!” You don’t know you manage to even form a verbal response when Hotch is infront of you undoing his belt, his hands are so big they practically cover the entirety of the buckle and it has you fucking drooling. He’s only half hard and yet you can tell that he’s big. You already knew Hopper was big the few times he had to pin you against a wall just to put handcuffs on you. 

You already knew you most likely wouldn’t be doing a whole lot of talking after this…

Hotch taps your cheek with a mumbled ‘open”, you opened your mouth welcoming his half hard cock into your mouth, while Hopper ran his fingers through your wet cunt, he eventually sinks one finger into your waiting hole causing you to moan around Aarons cock, which caused the other man to groan. He tangled his fingers in your hair, beginning to fuck your face. 

Hopper added another finger into your hole, slowing finger fucking you, your muffled moans turned into slight gagging as Hopper hit your g-spot with his fingers at the same time Hotch forced his cock to the back of your throat. 

“You can take it.” Hopper told you before removing his fingers from your cunt, wiping his fingers against the skin of your thigh. Causing you to whine at the feeling. 

“Oh be fucking quiet, your lucky we’re even using you right now.” Hotch spoke up from above you, hearing Hoppers belt hit the floor and his pant being unzipped sent another flood of arousal through you. Wiggling your hips you couldn’t wait to be filled by his cock. 

Hopper pushed his cock into you and you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head, between Hotch’s cock and his you felt so fucking full, you really wished you weren’t handcuffed so you had something to hold onto. 

You practically shrieked around Aarons cock when Hopper bottomed out, almost immediately pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained in your cunt before pushing all the way in. 

The two men smiled wickidely as they heard you splutter around Aarons cock when they timed their thrusts together. 

“Fuuck Her mouth is fucking amazing…” Hotch mumbled, watching as his cock dissappeared into your mouth over and over again, “I’m not gonna last much longer…” He groaned as he felt your tongue run over a vein that was on the underside of his dick. 

“Shit me neither, her cunt is so fucking tight she’s practically sucking me in…” Hoppers hands were digging into your hips, sure to leave bruises that would last for weeks. 

The two men shared a look before they both pulled out of you, much to your distaste, you whined, almost begging for them to return to where they were. 

“No no, please, I was getting so close.” you tolf them, but the two men just laughed. 

“Too fucking bad, your just here to be a toy for us, you probably won’t be cumming tonight.” Hopper told you, settling infront of you and grabbing your hair, just like Aaron did. While the other grabs your hips lining himself up with your hole. 

“Now get to work” Hopper spat at you, using the hand that wasn’t holding your hair to line his cock up with your mouth. Aaron sunk his cock into you before you had a chance to welcome Hoppers cock into your mouth, a gruttal moan ripped through your throat before Hopper shoved his cock into it, hitting the back of your throat immediately. You got to work sucking Hoppers cock with the same enthusiasm that you did with Aarons. 

“Fuckkkk I’m gonna cum baby, want me to come in your mouth?” You tried you best to nod, looking up at the olderman infront of you. 

“Good, cause you didn’t have a choice.” It didn’t take long before Hoppers hips started thrusting into your face, forcing you to deep throat him and then still as he came down your throat. You took his cum as best you could, reveling in the salty taste. 

“God you really are a fucking whore.” He mumbled, pulling out of your mouth, “Now be a good girl and swallow.” And you did, you might’ve choked a little bit because as you did Aaron had decided that was a perfect time to move one of his hands down to rub your clit. 

Now that your mouth was free your moans fell freely from your throat, you couldn’t hold them back if you even tried. Hotch was bullying your cunt with each snap of his hips, his fingers making work on your clit, he had you hurtiling to the edge faster that anyone had. 

“Fuck, fuck, so good.” you moaned, eyes rolling back into your head, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more. 

“Fuck, choke me please.” you pleaded with the man behind you, the though of his hand wrapping around your throat too good to pass up.

“Oh she likes being choked does she?” the two men laughed at hoppers statement, the hand that was on your hip came up to wrap around your throat, cutting off your air supply. You were so fucking close to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum! Please, please don’t stop!” you practically screamed out, Hotch grunted behind you, you took that as a confirmation that he wouldn’t. After a few more thrusts of his hips your body was convulsing, and a cry fell from your lips as you came, not even a minute Hotch followed, he buried himself deep into your cunt as he came. 

You were both out of breath as he pulled out, sweat dotting everyones foreheads and you laid limply across Hoppers desk, effectively fucked out. You felt one of the men undo your cuffs, Hopper picked you up gently. 

“Lets go get you cleaned up.” He walked with you towards the bathroom, Hotch following close behind and you smiled, cuddling into the older mans chest. 

“But do not think this night is over…we’re both extremely pent up.”

#aaronhotchner #Jim hopper #crossover #crossover fic #modern!Jim hopper #Jim hopper x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #smut #st smut #cm smut #aaron hotchner x spoiled brat!reader #jim hopper x spoiled brat!reader #jim hopper x reader x aaron hotchner

[another-corpo-rat]

I was blasting Midnights on repeat as I wrote & edited the second-half of this. Make of that what you will.

Prompt: Words That We Couldn’t Say Adam Smasher/OC Warnings for a very unhealthy relationship, mild description of gore, and past physical abuse Summary: After Smasher’s defeat in Mikoshi, Victoria is left to grapple with the fact that he’s not quite as invincible as she had let herself believe.

.

The flames have been smothered by the time she gets there, tearing past the guards that are trying – and failing, spectacularly – to wrangle something resembling order back into the building. Headless really, without their chief at the helm.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Said chief snarls at the technician they sent to fetch him. An intern. They sent a fucking intern to deal with him. The kid – and he is a kid, eyes still wide and young, glimmering with something that died in her well before her twenties – looks over his shoulder at her approach.

“I’ll handle him.” She says, voice careful so that it didn’t echo across the open space of the room. The relief from him was palpable, the nod eager as he stepped aside and moved a healthy distance away. As if the ‘borg wasn’t literally unarmed.

Smasher twitches as she steps in front of him, his body jerking as if he were on a string getting yanked this way and that by an over-eager puppeteer. The more violent jerks of the neck likely aren’t good for the exposed brain. She cradles his jaw, pressing her fingers to the thick cables on either side as she guides his head to look forward – at her. Not at the doors to Mikoshi.

“Get them out.” He says low, tinged with a desperation she’d never thought she’d hear. “And get one of my technicians, not an untrained pup.”

Nodding, her hands steady in their hold as she tears her gaze from him and to the guards milling about. Trying to seem busy, pressing closer by inches to get a better look at the state of one of Night City’s living legends.

“Go upstairs and help secure the main floors, make sure no media worms their way in. And you,” she looks to the intern, the boy standing at attention under her focus, “go and find Smasher’s on-duty technician. Let them know that we expect them to come to him.”

They shambled their ways towards the elevator, her orders followed if only for the confusion that was lingering in the aftermath of it all. Technically she held no superiority over anyone, not even the intern. But now was hardly the time to admit that.

Her fingers are warming in their press against Smasher’s overheated frame, the thin chrome at the tips softening. A sudden jerk unsteadies her for a moment, enough force behind it that she needs to adjust her footing. “Hold still.” She hisses, even though she knows she’s asking him for the impossible: hold still as you burn internally, hold still as your brain is exposed to open air. But he tries, even if the effort has him groan in agony.

This shouldn’t have happened.

The merc shouldn’t have gotten as far as they did, never mind defeat Smasher at the end of it—

And the bastard didn’t even kill him. She doubted their mercy was a thing borne from kindness or any true hatred for taking life. They left a long enough line of dead guards for her to know that much.

But they kept him alive, tore him apart and open, and left him to linger in it.

Her eyes narrow at the soft of his brain, pressing painfully against the metal of his head. As fleshy as her own, as fragile.

She could end him. Adam Smasher could die, not by the hand of a raging merc, but by the delicate claw of the bitch he called his. Her fingers dig in deeper under his jaw, deliberate in their desperate press against his chrome. Away from the one thing that promises he was human once too.

Leaning down, her face inches from his, she glares into the one functioning optic, lets the red LED burn against the back of her eyes. Three words lodge themselves in her throat, scraping at her, demanding to be spoken aloud – she swallows them down, works around their stubborn insistence to instead order him: “Don’t die on me.”

There’s a strain on his legs, deliberate as he forces himself to rock up. Closing the inches, pressing himself against her lips. It’s a brief thing. Hard. Her jaw will be sore from the impact within a matter of minutes, but it calms something in her, wills the wild thing that is her heart to slow in its anxious pace.

His stare doesn’t break from her, even as his technician arrives.

.

Golden eyes snap open, breath leaving her in a shuddering exhale as she flexes her fingers, wipes them against the soft of her duvet.

Her dreams are rarely accurate to the event. There she holds his gaze, golden claws glazing over the meat of his brain, watching him try to jerk away, listening to him snarl a litany of threats that will never come to fruition. There she digs her fingers in, clenching her fist and tearing him apart—

“The fuck’re you doing up?” She misses his growl, the deep baritone distorted by a heavy vocaliser, but the drawl of the southern accent is comfortingly familiar still – even if the rest of his Gemini has changed. He sits on the edge of her bed, his back to her and gaze focused out to the skyline of the city. A thin line of smoke rises from the lit cigarette in his mouth.

Her eyes rake along the naked planes of his back. The new Gemini was custom. Apparently he looked more like his old fleshy self than a celebrity long since dead; bald, broad-shouldered, and thicker around the middle. Deep brown eyes under a stern brow and equipped with sensorware that rivaled a DaiOni.

His technician had argued against that, something about potential over-stimulation. That the whole point of him using a Gemini was a mandatory rest period – a necessary break from piloting a Dragoon and to recover from the trauma of his defeat. Telling Smasher ‘no’ was a dangerous enough thing on a good day. And that was not a good day, there hasn’t been since—

Well, since Mikoshi.

“Nightmare.” She offers in the quiet din, kicking the blanket off her legs to throw them over the edge of the bed. The city is awake even at this hour, an advertising blimp crawling past her window. Easily ignored, if Smasher hadn’t lifted the blackout blinds. The harsh red of a Foreign Body poster lights him in the bloody shade.

It suits him.

“Been having those a lot lately.”

She could feel the squish of meat if she clenched her fist, imagined as it is. She lays her hand flat against the bed, wipes it against the mattress to get rid of the sensation as she hums in response.

“I die again?” Another hum, affirmative. He scoffs, breathing out faintly caramel-scented smoke. “Fucking stupid.”

“I agree.” She says quietly, voice hoarse with clinging sleep. “Caring about you is fucking stupid, isn’t it? I should just—” The mattress lifts as he stands, and she’s certain he’s about to leave. Just stride out of the bedroom that’s felt more like theirs than hers for a while now, maybe out of the apartment entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time in recent weeks. Doubtful it’d be the last, either.

He doesn’t.

Tension tightens her shoulders as he stands in front of her, a hand curling around her neck in a loose hold as he presses forward with his weight, pushing her back against the soft mattress. He’s done this before too, usually with more force and a tighter grip.

Clenching her jaw as he leans over her, one thick arm braced beside her head and those eyes boring into hers. “I should hate you.” She breathes out, a rasp of a growl.

“Mhm, you should.” His thumb, rough and calloused, glides gently across her bottom lip. “But you don’t, do you?”

She has the right to. No one would blame her if she did. He tore her from her predicted comfort; tossed her from the shallows she thrived in to the greater depths of Arasaka’s ocean. Shattered the bones in her arm, slowly and methodically, to make a point.

And yet the burn of anger doesn’t rouse at those memories.

Not when she’s learned to swim in those depths, protected by his underbelly until she grew certain of herself. And he was always there to dive back under when she found herself out-matched and needed time to rethink an approach.

And her arms are – well, realistically she was going to replace them anyways. It was pride that had her suffer through the flare-ups of carpal tunnel, a stupid pride that he tempered in that moment. Shattering it along with her bones, opening her eyes to her own fragility. She would have been killed ten times over if she was still blinded by it.

No. What she hates is waking up to him here, looking human with warm brown eyes instead of his constant burning red. Taller than her by mere inches rather than feet.

She hates that she didn’t notice when he plucked her heart out to cradle it in his own hands, tender as he pressed it to where his own should beat. That, when she did realise, she convinced herself it’d be safe in that metallic ribcage, shielded by reputation and chrome.

Mikoshi shattered that.

At her silence, he prompts again: “Do you?”

“Quite the opposite. I…” She bites on her tongue, forcing the truth down. They’ve been content to let it sit unspoken and she won’t be the one to break that. Not when putting a name to it would make it official. Complicated. “You already know.”

“No.” He lets go of her neck to trail his fingers through her hair. “I don’t think I do.”

“Adam.”

“Enlighten me, Victoria.” He leans down, brushing his lips against the corner of hers. “What am I supposed to already know?”

And suddenly those dull brown eyes seem as piercing as his optics, pinning her down and daring her to look away. She swallows the words that had been brewing on her tongue, a flippant, avoidant response. One meant to rile his anger and direct them away from the current topic. One meant to hurt so he’d hurt her in turn. The familiar option. The safe one.

Instead she lifts her arms, curling them around his neck in a loose hold and pulling him down. It’s a gentle motion, no real power behind it – but he lets her draw him in, lets her bury her face into the crook of his neck and tighten her hold.  

In the quiet of the room, both of them painted with the lingering reds of that passing blimp, Victoria forces the truth past her lips.

#cyberhanami23 #cyberpunk 2077 #Adam Smasher #cyberpunk oc #corpo v #Victoria Crane #fic tag #my writing #if there's one thing to take away from this #its that i put Smasher in a gemini with a dad bod #Ship: Gilded Chrome

[thedummysdummy]

One Small Decision

He really hadn’t expected that she’d really go, and that her phone would still be off 24 hours later. 

It hadn’t even been that big of a deal, had it? A minor disagreement. A bit of a squabble. Hardly an actual fight, right? Yet his calls went to voicemail, his texts remained unread, and his bed was empty. 

So obviously it had been a big deal to her. Victor sighed and powered on his phone screen, disappointment a bitter pill in his belly as it showed no new call or messages. “Why are you so dramatic,” he grumbled, slipping the phone back in his pocket and his feet into his shoes. “I guess I’m going to have to find you and work this out.” 

He almost fondly remembered the last time the girl had disappeared on him like this. Despite getting him all worked up, she’d simply been waiting for him at his home where she belonged. A glimmer twinkled in the corner of his eye as he remembered that birthday and shook his head at how silly he’d been. But this time, she wasn’t just laying in wait with a surprise. His home was empty, her apartment was empty, and a multitude of ‘what-if’s were plaguing him already.

The phone returned to his hand and Victor flipped through the contacts, settling on Willow. His finger hovered over the number for a moment before pressing ‘call.’ There was no such hesitation on the other end; within two rings, the big personality of Willow (and the voice to match) filled Vicor’s ear. 

“Mr. Victor!! I’m glad you called. Have you heard from the boss today? She didn’t show up to work and none of us have been able to reach her all day. She sent Anna a single angry emoji last night, but that’s the last we’ve heard from her. She’s with you, right? What is she mad about?” 

Victor held the phone a little space away from his ear, but waited patiently for Willow’s questions to end. “No, she’s not with me. I was hoping that someone at her company had heard from her today. She stormed off yesterday afternoon and I haven’t been able to reach her since.” 

“What did you DO? You must have really messed up for her to have her phone turned off through an entire work day! It’s not like the boss to just not show up to work, either.

Willow was right, and that didn’t make Victor feel any better about the situation. However, there were still options without running all over the city. Victor ended the call with Willow, navigated to Mr. Mills’s contact and dialed, more quickly this time. “Yes, Mr. Mills? Has my dummy been by Souvenir today? No? Okay, thank you. No, I won’t be in tonight. If she shows up, please let me know. Thank you.” 

The ace in the hole, then. “Goldman! Have you heard from the girl today? She seems to have run off somewhere and I can’t find her.” 

“Again? No, boss, I haven’t heard from her. I’m supposing you’ve spoken to her crew already if you’re calling me?” 

“Obviously.” Victor sighed, doing his best to keep the beast growing in his stomach from clawing its way out. “If you happen to hear from her, tell me immediately.” 

“Of course. I’ll start looking around myself. Thankfully you’ve given me a manageable workload for the week, so I have the time.” Goldman attempted a chuckle, but it quickly died in his throat. “I’m sure she’s fine. She always is.” 

Victor grunted in a non-committal manner and hung up the phone, a little bit at a loss where to go from here. Perhaps it was time to break out the old Evolver list…he placed the phone face-up on his desk and opened a hidden drawer, one filled with dust and a large stack of papers. Each page contained a name, a photograph, a short description of their power, and any contact information he had. Surely someone he’d helped would be able to return the favor.

Page after page provided nothing but disappointment as Victor read through the descriptions and debated any possible angle in which the powers could be used to locate the girl. It was a much slower process than he would like, considering how long she’d already been missing. He should have gone after her! He should have apologized and brought her back home! But no. He’d let her storm out the door. He’d let her disappear into the darkness. But she was supposed to come right back. A little walk to cool down was all she needed, he was sure of it. At worst, she’d take a cab home and call him in the morning. 

But what if she’s on the side of the road somewhere? 

But what if she got picked up by one of those crazy anti-Evolver types? 

No, no. None of that had happened. She was surely just hiding somewhere and forgot to charge her phone. He turned over another page and, as he found the face of Kiro staring back at him, Victor realized he had forgotten to ask any of the other men she was friends with if they had seen her. The thought of his girl running to another man after a fight sickened him, but at least he’d know she was safe…

And so he picked up his phone, added all four of their numbers to a group text, and swallowed his pride. “Have any of you heard from my girlfriend today? I can’t reach her.” 

~~~~

The room was dark, and the rope around her wrists and ankles cut painfully into her skin. The girl whimpered slightly as she began to regain consciousness. Her head throbbed and her vision was bleary, though it began to clear a little as she blinked in rapid succession. 

“Ah. Sleeping Beauty awakens, eh? Good. It’s more fun when she’s awake.”

#so it begins #part 1 #writing them fighting is hard #but ya know #mr love queen's choice #mr love mobile #mr love victor #mr love victor fanfic #love and producer victor #love and producer li zeyan #evol x love li zeyan #evol x love victor #evol x love #evol x love victor fanfic #evol x love fanfic

[transskywardsword]

Spider Meet Fly/Fly Meet Spider Chpt 4: Mineru's Counsel

a totk au where link and zelda switch places, focusing on fixing plot holes found in the memories and giving ganondorf actual characterization

read all of spider/fly on ao3

Mineru walked with purpose but kept her strides short enough to allow Link to keep up. Link had always been short—even among most Hylians he was tiny. Still, it was hard not to feel minuscule beside Mineru with her towering height and high-stretching ears. She looked down at him and smiled softly. It looked strange on her face; Link had a feeling this woman did not smile often.

Rauru’s meeting with the Gerudo leaders still hung heavy on Link’s mind as they walked. Link didn’t have all the information, that much was clearly true, but Link knew how proud the Gerudo could be, and how strictly they kept to their traditions. Surely Rauru knew the same—so why not bow? Was it considered wrong in Zonai culture to lower your head to another? Zelda always bowed to Riju when they met, three counts bent at the waist while her hands rested open on her heart, and Riju always returned the action, a sign of mutual respect for each other’s rule.

Why hadn’t Rauru bowed? Why hadn’t any of them bowed? Were the women so dangerous that they were not deserving of the respect of the station they carried? They’d bore the colors Gerudo royalty; perhaps the colors' meaning had changed over the past Goddesses knew how many years and the women weren’t as important as Link had believed.

That seemed most likely. Rauru, Sonia—these were good people, and hopefully, good politicians. They wouldn’t disrespect a neighboring tribe for no good reason. The women simply must not have been as highly ranked as Link thought. Still…

Link nearly bumped into Mineru as she came to a stop.

“We’ve arrived,” Mineru said. Her voice carried an otherworldly lit to it, like whispering through a perfectly silent room. The room she had led them to had been down multiple spiral staircases, the natural light that lit up the castle now long gone, replaced with dimly glowing lamps that resembled brightbloom flowers. Mineru stood before a stone door with no handle or hinge; she placed a delicate hand on the secret stone at her throat, and the door shimmered, turning a lilac purple before becoming transparent.

“Go on.”

Link moved through the door. There was a tingling feeling that rippled down his spine, and then he was out and into the other room. It was elegant, all delicately carved stone and dragon motifs, bathed in pale light from the lamps along the walls. Constructs milled about the long, curved tables filled with all sorts of tech Link had never seen, each piece somehow both organic and geometric. Mineru strode in, sitting gracefully in a tall, backed chair in the center of the organized chaos.

“It is a pleasure to finally be able to speak face to face, Link.” She said. Her secret stone glittered brilliantly, even in the low light. “As you may know, my name is Mineru. I am Rauru’s elder sister, and my brother has told me a great deal about you. I’m sure he’ll be joining us shortly. Until then—I’ve heard you’ve had a rather unfortunate accident.”

She gestured to Link’s stump, and Link undid the clasps on the shawl with much less difficulty this time, presenting what was left of the arm to her. Mineru leaned forward in her seat. “How did such an injury occur?”

Link hesitated, grip tight on his tablet. It was one thing to tell Sonia and Rauru about the mummy, but Mineru had done nothing to earn the trust the other two were beginning to hold. Mineru smiled her strange, unfamiliar smile again.

“Do not worry. I know most—I simply wish to hear the story from your own lips… own writing. Forgive me.”

“In my era…” Link began. He tapped the stylus against his teeth. How much to say? How far back? The mummy? The gloom? Sealing the Calamity? The Champions? The story was so massive, was so tightly wound together that he wasn’t sure which details to leave in and which to remove.

“In my era, there was a creature called the Great Calamity. The final reincarnation of a great evil that had shed its human form and given in to pure malice. Ten thousand years ago, the Sheikah—”

Mineru held up a hand, and Link ceased his writing. “The Sheikah? The Sheikah are a myth, a story left behind by the Hylian legend of the Hero of the Sky.”

Link shook his head. “No, they’re very real. They built massive technological creations and had an entire civilization before being stamped out by time. Their ancestors still live to this day.”

Mineru clasped her hands under her chin. “To my knowledge… the Sheikah were the first servants of Hylia, one of their own guiding Her throughout her journey up to the ultimate destruction of Demise. They are no more real or fake than the Gods themselves.”

“Do you not believe in the Goddesses?”

Mineru straightened. “I believe what I can see, and as the Gods have yet to reveal themselves to me, I hold no opinion of them.”

Link tried not to bristle. The Gods—the Gods had been with him his entire adventure. The guardian dragons, the Goddess statues-- Hylia Herself had spoken to him! Hell, his best friend was Hylia reborn, and she had wielded the full glory of the Triforce right in front of him! Fi was created by the Chosen Hero, and she speaks to him!

Spoke to him, past tense. Because the mummy had destroyed her, and stolen his best friend. And now Link was here, alone, with a husk of a sword and a secret stone.

“The Goddesses are real.” He wrote carefully. “I can prove it.”

“Oh?”

Link drew his sword, carefully holding it out to her. Her fingers brushed over the blade with careful, calculating movements.

“It looks like it was once a beautiful sword.” She said, taking it carefully.

Link nodded. “This is the Master Sword. The Sword that Seals the Darkness, created by Hylia’s Chosen Hero.”

Mineru’s face was perfectly calm, perfectly blank. “So you say. Do you have proof? It hardly looks like a holy blade.”

“What proof do you need?”

Mineru hmmed, turning the Master Sword over in her hands.

“The Chosen Hero was known for wielding a blade that could strike sacred power when the blade was offered skyward to the Gods. Show me such a power.”

Link swallowed. He and Zelda had been researching heroes long past over the past few years on and off, often using the stories as supplements in his education. Link felt it was important to know where he came from, where Zelda came from—Zelda didn’t care much for it after a lifetime of begging Gods for their attention, but she respected his wishes and helped the best she could. But it had been Link on his own without Zelda’s help that had utilized the knowledge of the First Chosen Hero to strengthen his connection with the Master Sword. She was a beautiful blade, and Link was proud of their progress. A week ago, a Skyward Strike would be child’s play.

Now? He wasn’t so sure.

Link took back the Master Sword.

Please, he sent through what of left of their mental link, just one, I just need one and then you can rest.

The sword weakly chimed, and warmth flooded Link’s heart. They could do this. He planted his feet, raised up the sword, and closed his eyes.

Hylia, the Goddess of Light, Protector of Hyrule. Farore, Mother of Courage, Creator of Life—grant me your Power.

Fi grew warm in his hand, then blindingly hot. The lights in the room flickered, then went dark, before being lit as bright as the sun by shinning blue splendor as holy lightning crashed through the ceiling and lit up the Master Sword. It glowed with impossible splendor, before shaking wildly in his hand, static electricity running down his arm. The heat was too much—what was Fi doing? The power grew, grew, suddenly destabilizing as an explosion of light rattled the room, sending Link flying back into a table.

Ears ringing and seeing spots, he slowly stood to face Mineru, whose face was flushed and eyes wide. Her hand was clutched around her secret stone, the other hand lit purple to create a shield of light around her. She released the stone and the light flickered out.

“By the Gods…” Came a soft voice from the door, and Link turned, Master Sword back in hand. It felt strange in his right hand, uncomfortably so. In the doorway stood Rauru, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“What was that.” Mineru breathed, and Link jutted his chin out after sheathing his sword.

“T-H-E  M-A-S-T-E-R  S-W-O-R-D” He signed.

Rauru stepped forwards, reaching reverently towards Link. “May I?”

Link hesitated. The sword was his, and not to be passed around any more than it already had been. But then, Rauru had shown him nothing but kindness, and Link doubted the Zonai could hurt the sword any worse than it already was. He passed it over, hilt first, and Rauru raised it up to his eye level.

“The Hylians have a legend: the creation of their people, the land we stand on, and the obliteration of Divine Evil—”

“C-H-O-S-E-N  H-E-R-O” Link signed, and Rauru nodded.

“Yes. I take it you are familiar with the tale?”

Link could perfectly hear Zelda in his head, rattling off facts as she told him the story of Din, Nayru, and Farore, of how the Golden Goddesses gifted the world to Hylia, how Her people were sent skyward to escape utter destruction. How the Goddess gave up Her divinity to be reborn so that She and a Chosen Hero might one-day seal Demise, the Demon King. How together, the Hero and Zelda defeated the Demon King and created the Hylian race. Link had always assumed that also meant establishing Hyrule, but it seemed now that that wasn’t the case. So what was the timeline of events here? Why were the Zonai so forgotten but the tale of Hylia so revered back in Link’s time?

Zelda really would be loving all this. Link, on the other hand, was just getting a headache. Rauru looked at him expectantly and Link nodded.

“In that legend, it speaks of a scared blade that can abolish evil and seal the darkness. I may not be as well versed in the legends as Sonia, but that blade—is it…?”

Link nodded. What else was there to say?

“Then for your mummy to break it so severely… it seems this is worse than we thought.”

“May I see your sword again?” Mineru asked, extending a hand. Carefully, Link nodded, and Rauru passed the hilt to his sister.

“Fascinating… Now that I know where to look, I can sense dormant power… light power, like your stone. It is flickering, fleeting, but there. It feels old, yet somehow impossibly new. Living, almost. You—you are definitely not from this era.”

Link straightened as tall as he could. “So, you really believe my story? That I am from the future?”

“Yes. Any doubt I had as been long forgotten—you are not where you belong. And you are more than a mere protector of your Zelda, as you told Rauru, aren’t you, Hero?”

Link raised his chin. “I am what I am.”

Mineru observed him silently, eyes bright with something Link couldn’t identify. “Then is it a pleasure to meet you, Link the Hero.”

“Mineru,” Rauru said, placing his crawled hands on Link’s shoulders. “There are more pressing matters than Link’s alignment. Do you know of a way you could help return him to his time?”

Mineru stood, moved to a worktable, and beckoned them over. “I suspect it was the power of your secret stone that allowed you to travel through time. Light magic is unpredictable and often acts with a mind of its own. It takes great patience to master. Sit.”

Link glanced at Rauru, who nodded, and then sat on the bench. “Now, have we decided on a prosthetic?”

Link looked down at his bare chest and his stump. It looked so unbalanced, so raw. He couldn’t wield Fi as well right-handed. He couldn’t keep writing his words forever. It was now or never. He bobbed his fist up and down in a clear ‘yes’. Mineru smiled that strange smile of hers.

“Wonderful. I’ll begin taking some measurements.” She held out her hand and a construct glided over, handing her materials, and with surprising speed, she went to work.

“To put it simply, secret stones amplify the power their owner already possesses. I am able to separate my spirit from my body. Rauru can repel or destroy evil with his power of light. And Sonia, she can control time.”

She moved her hands away from his arm, making notations in a notebook a construct provided, before reaching forward with a piece of thin wire and bending it around the edge of his stump. She pulled it back and began making calculations.

“As for you, I can sense both light and time power—though one is clearly more dominating than the other. The light power overflows in you, like a midday sun piercing through black night. The time magic mimics your movements; you must be quiet the fighter with time on your side in such a way. Your secret stone is clearly amplifying your light. I would recommend working with my brother to see if you could strengthen your control. Ultimately, your secret stone simply amplifies your power. It doesn’t suddenly grant you mastery and control—it cannot be harnessed without knowledge already present.”

Mineru looked up, eyes soft. “I’m sorry. If you don’t already know how to get yourself home…”

Then he was stuck. He was stuck and the mummy was free to run rampant, and Zelda was… Zelda was.. Zelda…

Mineru pursed her lips, sitting back and placing down the tool she had been holding up to his arm. Her sketch had grown immensely in the short amount of time she’d been speaking, and Link squinted down, trying to make sense of her vaguely arm-shaped design.

“There is one way you might reach the past, though it is far from easy—or time efficient,” Rauru said softly, and Mineru whipped her head around.

“It is forbidden.” Mineru hissed, and Rauru raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m simply listing all potential options,” Rauru said softly, and Mineru sighed. Link raised an eyebrow.

“There are… stories about the secret stone and a forbidden act called dragonification.” She said. She looked directly at Link for what he realized might be the first time. Her eyes were hard, and—and her third eye was open.

“To swallow a secret stone is to become an immortal dragon,” she said, voice vibrating throughout the air, “blessed with eternal life.”

Link leaned forward, eyes wide. That—that would take eons, but it would be something. At this point, he would take anything, anything at all. For Zelda, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Link, you must understand, there are still more to these stories. To become a dragon is to lose oneself completely. That is why it is forbidden. If you had to sacrifice your heart, your mind, everything that makes you… it’s not worth it. It is never worth it.”

She leaned back. “I have what I need. The arm will be ready by morning. Till then, sleep well, Link the Hero.” She stood.

“Leave. Please. I need to speak to my brother.”

Link blinked.

“N-O-W?” He signed, and Mineru nodded.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Please.”

Rauru placed his hands on Link’s shoulders and helped him up.

“My sister is a … particular person.” He said softly in Link’s ear. “We should go. I’ll check on you before the evening bell tolls. Till then, sleep well.”

Link spluttered, but he was already being shoved to the door.

“Sleep well, Hero. Sleep well.”

Then, with a glow of purple, the door shut behind him and he was alone.

Link huffed. Well fuck her too, he guessed. He began his hike up the spiral staircase, grumbling all the way. Thoughts of secret stones danced around behind his eyes. He knew about sacred stones, most notably the Triforce, but never secret ones. So the ability to use the stone was just what, inside him? Like the power of friendship or some shit? Link groaned and slid down against the stone wall, burying his hand in his hair. Link wondered if the growing dread in his stomach was how Zelda had felt for the first 17 years of her life, being forced to unlock a power that had been inside her the whole time.

Gods, he missed her. Link felt his eyes grow embarrassingly wet at the thought of her. He was 22 goddamn years old—he was not going to cry. He wasn’t. He wasn’t.

“I won’t.” He whispered, and his throat burned. The first words in almost over a week. Had it really been so long since he’d spoken with Zelda?

What if he never made it back? What if he died here in the past, and Hyrule crumbled without him even being able to see its destruction? Would Zelda hold it against him? Would she be bitter, be angry that he never found his way home? No, no, Zelda would never do that.

Dragonification…

Link would be lying if he said the thought didn’t intrigue him. He knew Hyrule had a long, rich history of dragons, from Faron, Eldin, and Lanayru of the era of Hylia’s creation to the guardians of the holy Goddess Springs now in modern Hyrule. Link considered the guardian dragons to be almost friends, having spent so much of his adventure waiting for them to fly overhead that he might fly up on their updrafts and groom them. It was Naydra that he first groomed; after freeing her from malice she took a liking to him, letting him ride upon her back, and he noticed the almost hangnail-like growths on her back and along her scales, the absurd length of her claws, the unruly nature of her horns. He took to chipping away old growths, filing down claws, and chiseling out cleaner edges of her horns while she dozed in the sky, and then from there it was easy to do the same to Dinraal, and then Farosh. The dragons treated him with respect, so he returned it. What would it be like to be one of them? What would it be like to soar, so far above everything, unbothered by the world of man?

What would it be like to lose yourself?

Link couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. He knew exactly what that felt like. He had already lost himself and was only just beginning to get himself back. The past five years had done little to help his memory, and while everyone said they were okay with that, Link knew that many of them, especially the older Zora, were lying. He knew just what it was like to wake up a blank slate, with no one and nothing to your name.

He would not recommend it.

“Link?” A soft voice called. “Is that you down there?”

Link looked up; there, backlit by the light at the top of the stairs, was Sonia.

“I’m sorry to disturb you; I’m looking for my husband.”

“Downstairs.”

“Oh, I see. I—Link, have you been crying?”

Link turned his face away, cheeks glowing bright red. Sonia reached for him.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. What’s wrong?”

“Zelda.” He wrote, not bothering with more words, and Sonia nodded.

“I cannot imagine being without Ra for so long,” She said, “I cannot imagine your pain, but I can be with you through it. Here, come back to my room. Tell me all about your friend. I am more than excited to listen.”

Link took her offered hand and let her help him to his feet.

“Her name is Zelda.” Link said softly, and Sonia, much to her credit, hid her surprise well. Now that the words were out, Link felt like the dam of his teeth had exploded, a need for words pushing at his lips, screaming, demanding— Sonia over her shoulder back to him as they climbed.

“I didn’t know you could speak,” she said softly.

“Sometimes.” Link said, voice even softer than hers. Anxiety crawled up his throat, fighting with the screaming need for speech and trying to force the words down. But it felt good to loosen his tongue, and Link fought to keep it that way.

“Oh,” Sonai said, before smiling brightly. “Well, I’m pleased to hear your voice. Now… your Zelda.”

Link managed to smile.

“She’s a princess.”

“So you’ve said.”

“She carries the power of Hylia inside her.”

Sonia froze. “The power of Hylia?”

Link nodded.

“Like the Goddess?”

A nod. Sonia’s hand drifted to her belly.

“Well, I’ll be…” Sonia lowered her voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

Link nodded, leaning closer, taking comfort in Sonia’s mischievous smile. “If I have a little girl, I want to name her Zelda. Ra, bless him, still struggles with Hyrulian customs. Our love of Hylia… he respects the Goddess, truly does, but his people have always been revered as gods, not the ones doing the revering. But I’m going to name her Zelda, after the Goddess.”

“In my time,” Link all but whispered, “that name is reserved for the firstborn princess of the royal family. It is considered good luck.”

Sonia’s smile turned sad. “In times like these, we need all the luck we can get—oh! Link, place your hand here!”

Sonia grabbed his wrist and pressed his palm against her belly. There was a fluttering feeling, and Link’s eyes went wide.

“She kicked!” Sonia said, and her grin was infectious.

“You’re so sure they’re a girl?”

“Positive. A mother’s intuition.”

Link rubbed a thumb across Sonia’s swollen middle.

“Then I look forward to meeting her soon.” He said softly, before letting Sonia lead him the rest of the way up.

#loz fanfic #loz au #totk fanfic #totk au #spider/fly #my writing

[cyberrat]

59th Batch Of Fics: 6th Fill

Hanzo/Cassidy – Minotaur AU – Part 35 – action; violence – One job like any other... in Hanzo's opinion. Not so much Cole's.

---

Arriving at their destination in a black truck is not as glamorous as coming in any kind of sleek, nice car, but Hanzo did not want to go alone and was secretly glad that Cole insisted on getting there with him.

He sits across from his companion, arms crossed over his chest. For the occasion he has opted not to wear his kimono, not because he thinks it is less intimidating than his suits, but because Cole has managed to make him feel paranoid about the whole encounter and he just wants to be able to move as freely as possible… just in case.

Glancing over at his companion, Cole is sitting ramrod straight, eyes constantly staring out of the tinted windows, as if seeing things that Hanzo can’t. It makes him break out into goosebumps and shift slightly uncomfortable.

“Stop this.”

Cole’s dark eyes move back to him, one of his ears flicks but other than that he sits still as a statue. A huge, foreboding looking statue.

“I am not doing anythin’.”

“I can feel how tense you are. What are you so worried about? We’ve done deals like this a hundred times and more. Nothing is going to happen if they don’t want bullets through their heads. Calm down.”

Cole shifts minimally. He looks so damn uncomfortable as he visibly searches for words to express what might be upsetting him so much. In the end he just exhales strongly and shakes his head with an expression of regret.

“I can’t put my finger on it. But I get the feelin’ somethin’ bad is goin’ to happen. Your uncle is a damn piece o’ work. He’s got something up his sleeve.”

Hanzo huffs and shakes his head stubbornly. “Nothing is going to happen. It is a deal as any other deal. Calm down and stop making me paranoid.”

Cole huffs again but he does not reply, the energy coming off of him now more sullen than anything else, though Hanzo can work with that better than with him suspiciously staring out the window as if awaiting them to get ambushed any second.

They arrive at the warehouse without any issues. Hanzo turns around to Cole when he hears him shift. He wants to tell him to just stay put and let him do the work which would be the first time he forbade him to come anywhere with him… but he does not need to say anything.

When Cole sees his gaze, his ears swivel away from Hanzo and he shifts to sit back down on the bench he had been on during their car ride.

Hanzo swallows hard; but this is for the best. He can’t use that nervous energy when he is dealing with another clan. He needs his head free and his senses sharp; Cole hovering like a mother hen behind him because of some imagined problems will only make things harder.

He hops out of the truck and gives Cole one last nod before closing the door and making sure his suit is sitting perfectly. It’s been a while since he wore one; it feels a little restrictive but ultimately a lot better for fighting than his kimono would be.

There. He’s really gotten into my head, he thinks angrily as he makes sure his weapon is where it needs to be before he makes his way over to the warehouse. His men are milling around the truck, waiting for him to give them the signal to come in and start loading the weapons crates.

The door into the warehouse opens without a sound. He’s prepared everything beforehand, sending his men and making sure that the location was nice and prepped before using it for any kind of serious work.

When he steps in, however, he immediately knows that something is… different. The crates are there, though they are a lot less than he had agreed upon with the other party. Everything is quiet in the warehouse.

Hanzo inhales deeply, his hand slowly sliding underneath his jacket, fingers curling around the handle of his gun as he slowly makes his way deeper into the warehouse. A voice at the back of his head keeps asking him what he is doing.

He doesn’t know. He should immediately retreat and call backup but his feet keep moving, eyes flicking to the shadows in the warehouse. Is it his own idiocy or is it the stubborn part in him that does not want Cole to find out that he had been absolutely right with his suspicions all along? Well, one does not negate the other in this case, he supposes.

His fingers are not shaking; they are steady and still around the trigger of his gun as he makes his way over to the few crates sitting in the middle.

Carefully pushing the top of one of the boxes to the side, he can see that it is filled to the brim with the special katanas that they had bought; high-tech and impossibly sharp.

Worth a fortune that he had been unwilling to trust his Uncle with.

Hanzo stares at them, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Where was the other party? They would not simply leave their bounty like this. There is no blood on the floor to suggest that there had been an altercation, though.

He lets go of the lid, leaving it half pushed off the crate and finally puts his hand to the communication device at his hip to call in his men.

It is too late, of course. He’s been sloppy and he knows it when he feels the pinprick of pain at the back of his nape. He hadn’t heard even the slightest footfall behind it. Had he been so engrossed in his own thoughts? Part of him is reluctantly impressed with his assailant.

“Not another move, nephew,” Kenzo’s calm voice reaches him, the sharp presence at the back of his neck not wavering. He can feel a small drop of blood oozing from the tiny incision. “Or would you rather be called ‘niece’?” The sneer in his Uncle’s voice is palpable.

Hanzo’s heart is beating fast in his chest. It feels like it is starting to crawl up into his throat, hindering any remark he might have had.

“Put your gun down and turn around, Hanzo-chan. Nice and slow. Let’s have a little talk – just the two of us.”

As he says it, more shadows creep silently from behind storage containers around them, Kenzo’s men finally coming out of their hidey holes. Most of which Hanzo does not recognize… a worrying lot of them, he does, though.

Slowly, he puts the gun down and turns around, his hands up at his shoulders, his communication device burning a hole against his hip. Help is so close… yet so far.

There is one of their new katanas in Kenzo’s unwavering hand, its tip now pointed directly at Hanzo’s throat.

His Uncle is smiling thinly, eyes cool as he stares Hanzo down.

“You are still green after all. So much time and effort wasted into raising you into a suitable oyabun just for you to come out as an arrogant little shit that things he’s gotten it all figured out.

Oh well… things will be a lot easier without you.”

Hanzo notices the huge shadow behind Kenzo too late.

#cyberratting writes stuff #minotaur au #hanzo/cole

[angelofrainfrogs]

We Found Him, Superstar: Ch. 6

Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Since starting his new afterlife at the Pizzaplex, Gregory has managed to befriend the Glamrock animatronics and made a surprising discovery—Bonnie’s been hidden in the basement warehouse this entire time, badly decommissioned but still powered on. Along with Bonnie are the endoskeletons that, no longer under the virus’s control, seem much more sentient than normal animatronics… Gregory and his friends are determined to get Bonnie back into commission and figure out the mysteries of what exactly these endoskeletons are—and how to help them, too.

Chapter Summary: Gregory wakes from a nightmare to an even more terrifying situation: the animatronics can no longer see or hear him. This strange invisibility seems like another one of his ghostly powers, but this time Gregory has to figure out how to get back to normal all on his own.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38728158/chapters/99262308

“But... you have to go on stage, or else you'll get in trouble!” Gregory exclaimed, lifting his head to look at Freddy with wide eyes. He’d hate to get the bear in hot water, but… he had to admit that he really didn’t want him to leave his side so soon either. 

Monty shook his head, grinning brightly. “I certainly don't mind takin’ the lead, Fredbear. Although, are you sure you don't wanna join us?” 

“I'll think of an excuse; Gregory needs Freddy right now,” Chica assured as she walked over to open the door, gesturing for Roxy and Monty to follow her out. 

 “Just say that I did not have a sufficient amount time to recharge; I will deal with the fallout later,” Freddy said with a grateful smile. “I promise that I will join you for this evening’s performance, so the techs will not have to worry for long. Thank you again, everyone!” 

“No problem!” Roxy said, giving him a thumbs up, then waving at Gregory. “Hope you feel better soon, kid; see you tonight!” 

“Bye!” Gregory called after the animatronics, waving until the door closed behind them. Once they’d left, Freddy shifted Gregory into a carrying position and stood, holding him close. 

“Let us go down to the basement,” he suggested. “Staff will be far less likely to look for us there. We can stay as long as we need to—is that alright with you, superstar?”

“Yeah… I like that idea,” Gregory agreed, shutting his eyes for a moment and gently squeezing Freddy's shoulders. He felt bad for having Freddy miss his performance and really hoped he wouldn't get in too much trouble for doing so. “Can we talk to Bonnie, too?” 

“Of course!” Freddy replied. He peered out of the curtain and saw that there were some customers milling around and looking at the display cases in the main area of Rockstar Row. Suddenly they all seemed to turn at once and make a beeline for what Freddy assumed were the Glamrocks heading towards the stage, who’d unintentionally created the perfect distraction. He closed the curtain again and smiled down at Gregory. “I will wait just a moment for the coast to be clear; do you want to call Bonnie and let him know we are coming early today?”

“Mhm!” Gregory nodded, then glanced down towards his watch and pressed the button to connect with the rabbit’s. “Hey, Bonnie? We’re coming early today and we’ll be there soon—I hope you don't mind!” 

“H-Hey, bud!” came Bonnie’s voice through the watch. “I-I’m lookin’ forward t-t-to it; see you s-soon!” 

Freddy peeked out of the curtain again, happy to see that the area was clear. Still keeping a tight hold on his son, Freddy cautiously exited his room and quickly made his way to the basement elevator. Soon, the pair were riding the old metal box down to the basement once again. As they descended, Gregory let out a sigh and rested his head on Freddy’s shoulder.

“I think I used a lot of energy…,” he mumbled, feeling the exhaustion creeping up once again. It wasn’t as if he would fall asleep right then and there, but all that phasing through objects seemed to really put a damper on his energy levels.

“Hmm…” Freddy hummed thoughtfully, letting Gregory settle however he wanted in his grasp. “Well, I would usually suggest that you take a rest, but that seemed to be the precipitating factor for your recent disappearance.” He let out a small sigh. “Maybe food would perk you up; I should have stopped by the kitchens on our way here…” As if on cue, the elevator came to a stop. Freddy stepped out as the doors opened, immediately making his way towards the hall of endoskeletons.

“Cake?” Gregory asked, instantly perking up at the thought and lightly kicking his legs. He turned to look over his shoulder, immediately taking notice of the papers and crayons now either missing or scattered about the area. Some endoskeletons were still sitting in front of their scribbled drawings, while others were watching from where they stood. 

“You're back!” gasped the familiar voice, its tone clearly showing excitement with the pair’s arrival.

“Hello, everyone,” Freddy said, smiling kindly to the room. He tilted his head to Gregory, telling him: “Yes, I think some cake is well-deserved after what you have been through.” 

How would he get it, though? He couldn’t walk around with Gregory in his arms with customers about—especially if he was trying to sneak past staff while playing hooky. Normally he’d let Gregory hide in his chest cavity, but he worried the boy would accidentally drain his power due to how tired he was. The only option seemed to go by himself, but then he’d have to leave Gregory alone. 

Freddy glanced around the room again. Well, the boy wouldn’t be completely alone…

“They played with the crayons and the toys,” Gregory commented as he gazed around as well, to which the voice spoke up once again. 

“We love them. Thank you again; it's nice to finally have something to do down here...”

“You are quite welcome,” Freddy said, his expression softening. He walked over to the table where most of the papers were, curious but not wanting to invade the children's space. “May we see what you have been drawing?” 

Upon Freddy's question, there seemed to be quiet whispers before they went silent, save for the main voice. “Yes, you can.” 

Freddy bent over the table, scanning the papers for anything legible. Like yesterday, most of the drawings were just scribbles, and Freddy guessed this was a combination of having to maneuver endoskeleton fingers and kids simply having varying levels of fine motor skills. This time, however, there were a few legible words—what appeared to be names, all in varying colors and handwriting. Freddy glanced at a few of the endoskeletons sitting down, asking softly: “Are these some of your names?” 

It was silent for a little bit, until a quiet whisper stated: “…Yes.” 

Freddy looked behind him as he heard a faint metal creak, catching the briefest movement before an endoskeleton stilled again. The bear stood straight, grabbing one of the papers and holding it up to examine closely. 

“Thank you for opening up to us; I know it must not be easy,” he said, reading the scribbled words. “I can make out three names so far: Katie… Ben… and Ella.” He looked around the room, seeing if any of the endos reacted. “Did I get those right?”

Gregory turned his head as he spotted three endoskeletons suddenly shift, two of them on the floor and one standing—they must've been the three monikers called out. He gave them a bright smile, their previously-terrifying demeanor made instantly less so now that they had actual names attached to them. 

“Hi, you guys!” Gregory said with a wave, then giggled as Freddy bent to pick up some more papers, dipping him low in the process. It was clear from the bear’s grin that this was intentional, wanting to make sure they boy wasn’t getting stressed again.

“Now, let me see…,” Freddy continued once he’d righted himself and Gregory. “These are the last ones I can see: Mia, Robin, Flynn, and Ian.” There were two more names but they were completely unintelligible, which made Freddy believe the kids they belonged to were quite young.

“It is wonderful to get to know you all a little more,” Freddy stated, putting as much kindness into his tone as he could. Counting the two still unknown, they’d uncovered nine names total—with this information, any lingering doubt Freddy had about these actually being the missing children was instantly quashed. 

The animatronics weren’t supposed to be exposed to information about anything negative that happened in the Pizzaplex, although of course they’d managed to pick up on the missing children situation to a certain extent based on rumors and overheard conversations between concerned parents and staff. With the addition of his personal encounters with Vanny and William, Freddy was even more aware of their existence than the others, which in an ironic way helped him accept their presence more easily. 

Despite their unfortunate state, Freddy was so glad they’d found the missing children— even if their situation broke his heart. At least they were starting to open up more now, and seemed genuinely happy with their company. He held Gregory a bit tighter, thankful that at least one child got away before being stuck into a metallic prison…

“We came back sooner than expected so I did not have time to bring more supplies,” Freddy added, then gave a friendly chuckle. “But I promise that next time we will bring more things for you to entertain yourselves with!” 

“Yeah! We'll make sure to get a bunch more stuff for you guys,” Gregory agreed with a vigorous nod. As the pair spoke, the endoskeletons slightly fidgeted—only doing so when neither Freddy nor Gregory’s eyes were upon them, of course. Gregory looked back at the bear with a small smile. “This will be so cool! I've always wanted friends like me!”

Freddy resisted the urge to frown at that comment, instead shifting his gaze towards the back room. “Speaking of friends, how about we go and pay Bonnie a visit?”

“Mhm!” Gregory kicked his legs back and forth.

“Hey, b-bud!” Bonnie said cheerfully as they entered his room. The necklace Gregory had given him was still around his wrist, although it was now wrapped twice so it wouldn’t fall off as easily. “A-And hey, F-Fredbear!” 

“Hello, Bonnie.” Freddy smiled, noticing the bracelet. One of the children must have helped him secure it.

“Hi, Bonnie!” Gregory waved at the bunny excitedly. “We have lots to tell you!”

“Oh y-yeah?” Bonnie questioned. “Y-You are here k-kinda early… I-I guess you’re g-g-gonna tell me w-why, huh?” 

“It has been quite an eventful twenty-four hours…,” Freddy sighed, setting Gregory down.

“I disappeared! I don't know how, but I was completely invisible for a really long time after I woke up,” Gregory explained. “I was scared I'd never be visible again!” Bonnie shifted his gaze between the pair, unsure of how exactly respond for a bit. 

“Whoa… T-That’s crazy!” he eventually said, watching Freddy pat Gregory’s back comfortingly. “B-But I can see you j-just fine now, s-so I guess you figured it o-out!”

“Yeah, I just wish I could understand how these stupid powers work…,” Gregory mumbled softly, lowering his head. “It took forever to figure out how to get back to normal; I don't want it to happen again!”

“I have been saying that such powers may take time get a handle on; this is unfamiliar to all of us,” Freddy reassured, softly running a paw through Gregory’s hair. “Although today’s incident was concerning, you will learn how to control this; do not worry.” 

“Yeah, F-Freddy is r-right!” Bonnie chimed in, the smile evident in his voice. “You’ll g-get a handle on t-this b-before you k-know it! And if it d-does happen again, j-just think if w-what you did t-to get back to y-yourself today, a-and do it again!” 

“I hope so…” Gregory leaned his head against Freddy's paw, frowning softly for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and giving the pair a confident nod. “I'll try my best!” 

“Ah, that reminds me… how is your energy level, superstar? Would you like me to get you some cake?” Freddy asked. 

Gregory hummed, rubbing at his eyes. “Um, I'm kinda sleepy… but heck yeah I want cake!” He threw his fists into the air in silent cheer.

“…How would you feel about staying down here with Bonnie?” Freddy asked, a bit hesitantly. “I do not wish to leave you, but I would feel safer if you remained here rather than trying to navigate the Pizzaplex with me while the guests are around… and while I would normally suggest you hiding in my suit, I’ll need to put the cake there so I do not attract unwanted attention.” He met Gregory’s gaze, smiling reassuringly. “But if you really would like to come with me, I am sure we can make it work.”

Gregory lowered his arms, tilting his head as he debated his options. “Hmm… I’ll stay here. I don’t wanna get you into any more trouble!” He gave Freddy one last hug before sitting down beside Bonnie. 

“Thank you, superstar!” Freddy was honestly a bit surprised that Gregory agreed so easily—apparently, the boy felt even more comfortable with the rabbit than Freddy originally thought, which made him quite happy. He gave Gregory a final pat on the head and then began walking away, calling over his shoulder: “I will be back soon! If you have any trouble, call me on your Fazwatch!” 

“Y-You got it, b-boss!” Bonnie replied, saluting with his creaky arm. Once Freddy left the room, Bonnie shifted his gaze to land on the boy next to him. “S-Sorry I’m n-not that exciting r-right n-now, bud; I c-can’t do as m-much fun stuff a-as everyone else!”

“It's okay, we don't have to do anything crazy; I like talking to you!” Gregory insisted as he pulled his knees up to his chest, offering Bonnie a smile. “And also, now I can tell you everything about our party!”

“Oh y-yeah!” Bonnie said, the excitement evident in his voice. “I-I’ve gotta k-know what to l-l-look forward to w-when I get o-outta here!” 

***

Freddy paused as he entered the hall of endoskeletons. He knew that he shouldn’t take too long so as not to worry Gregory, but wanted to ask the children one more thing before he went on his mission. Smiling softly, he inquired: “Now that we know most of your names… may I ask which one of you has been speaking to us directly?” 

He reasoned that this would be the protector of the group, and therefore would likely be the one they’d get to know first. Freddy already felt a kinship with the soul who’d stepped up to take care of the others when they were scared and alone—in the most basic sense, it wasn’t unlike the way he’d taken Gregory under his wing.

It was silent for a moment before the familiar voice finally spoke up. They seemed almost reluctant to answer, but did so nonetheless. 

“I’m… Mia.”

 “Hello, Mia; it is nice to officially meet you,” Freddy replied as he gave the room a smile, glad to finally put a name to the voice. He resumed walking towards the elevator, nodding at the endoskeletons as he passed them. “I must run an errand, but I will return shortly; Gregory is still here, if you would like to speak with him while I am away!” 

“Thanks, Freddy; we'll see you soon,” Mia said in her usually hushed tone. By the time Freddy entered the elevator and turned to push the button all of the endoskeletons were turned to face him, some of them with their hands raised as if to wave him goodbye.

***

“Well, we went to Bonnie Bowl and we had the party there, and everyone really liked it!” Gregory explained to Bonnie, listing anything and everything he could remember. “I had your seat right next to Freddy's, and Monty was eating a plate.” 

Bonnie laughed, his body shaking slightly with the force of it. “G-Glad to hear t-that M-Monty’s back to his o-old self!” He gently patted Gregory’s foot, which was the easiest thing to reach. “It s-sounds s-super fun, though! I-I’m excited to join y-you next t-time.” Bonnie’s ear tiled questioningly. “I-I guess you c-can eat, since F-Freddy’s g-getting you some c-cake; d-did you have anything s-special at the p-party?” 

Gregory nodded his head as he folded his arms over his chest with a grin. “Grilled cheese sandwich! It was cold, but I still ate it!” 

“W-Well, we’ll definitely g-get you some c-cake next time!” Bonnie said with another laugh. “W-What’s your f-favorite f-flavor? If I c-could eat, I-I think I’d l-like c-chocolate!”

Gregory thought to himself for a moment before shrugging. “I've only tried chocolate and vanilla but... I really like vanilla! It was so yummy!”

“I b-bet! I-I remember the k-kids talking about s-sweets all t-the time.” Bonnie replied. “N-Not sure who t-thought it was a g-good idea to s-serve ice cream in a b-bowling alley, though… I c-can’t tell you h-how many times k-kids would come up t-to hug me w-with sticky hands a-and faces!” He let out a soft laugh as he reminisced. “I-I loved it, though; t-they were a-always so cute.”

Gregory’s smile fell slightly as Bonnie spoke about his fond memories. He couldn't help but feel bad that the animatronic had been stuck here for so long. 

“We’re gonna get you back in shape in no time!” he assured as he rested his head against Bonnie’s arm, careful to avoid any loose wires.

“T-Thanks, bud; geez, Freddy s-sure found a g-good kid!” Bonnie said with another chuckle, looking down at him. He went silent for a moment, then posed a hesitant question: “Hey, G-Gregory, speaking of r-repairs… since you’re s-such a great m-mechanic, I-I was wondering if y-you’d mind t-trying to fix m-my voice box? I-I’m pretty sure the p-problem is j-just that a s-screw got knocked loose w-when I was put d-down here; a-all you’d n-need to do is t-tighten it, and everything sh-should fall back into p-place.” He met the boy’s gaze, hoping Freddy wouldn’t be mad at him if Gregory agreed to do the repairs without him overseeing things. “O-Only if you’re c-comfortable, o-of course! W-we can always wait for y-your d-dad to get b-back.”

“Yes! I can do it!” Gregory perked up at the request. He wasted no time in reaching a hand into what was left of Bonnie's head, feeling around until he found the voice box. It reminded him of when he took Chica's out, although this time he had no fear whatsoever that Bonnie would snap at him and attack. 

“Oh, I this one doesn’t have dents or anything! I think you're right, it's just really loose,” Gregory mentioned as he began fiddling with the box, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see where he was moving it.

Bonnie wanted to warn him to be careful, but didn’t dare speak in fear of accidentally zapping the boy with electricity or activating some wayward piece of endoskeleton to close on Gregory’s tiny fingers. He merely sat back and let the little mechanic do his work, staying as still as possible until they both finally felt the voice box snap into place with a satisfying click!

Gregory took a step back, pulling his hands out of the animatronic and rubbing the tiny amount of excess grease on his pants. “Um... Okay! Try saying something!” 

From what Bonnie could tell, the voice box felt like it was in the right place, and that clicking sound was a good sign. Tentatively, he spoke: 

“…Did it work?”

“Yes!” Gregory chirped as he hopped up and down, his eyes lighting up with excitement. 

Mia's voice soon rang out just beyond the doorway—clearly, the endoskeletons had been listening in. “It sounds like it works…”

“Yeah!” Bonnie cheered loud enough for the others to hear him, pumping a creaky fist in the air. “Thank you, bud! All that skipping was driving me crazy!” He lowered his arm slightly and held it out towards Gregory, instinctively trying to give the boy a one-armed hug. “You’re amazing!”

Gregory was quick to crouch down on his knees and hug Bonnie back, smiling happily. “You're welcome! What else do we need to fix besides... y’know, the obvious things?” 

“Hmm…” Bonnie hummed, checking his internal alerts—those that still worked, anyway—for everything currently wrong with him. “Unfortunately, I think everything else is more of a major repair; my arm and voice were really the only things that can be fixed right now, like Freddy guessed.” He paused, looking down at himself. “I need a new battery, and we still need to find replacement parts for my arm and leg before we can think about reconnecting them… oh, and my ear!” He pointed to the half-missing ear while wiggling the other up and down to show that at least one still worked. Gregory smiled, giving said ear a gentle pat. 

“Maybe there's more parts further in the basement?” Gregory glanced towards the doorway leading to the dark hall. “I can go look and see if there's anything! The kids told me there’s spare parts for all the animatronics down here, like when I found stuff for Monty��s snout and when they replaced Chica's beak—oh, um… oops.” The boy grimaced, realizing that Bonnie probably didn’t know all the havoc Gregory had caused days prior. 

Bonnie did not, in fact, know the extent of the damage to everyone else—nor did he know that Gregory was the one to cause it. 

“Chica lost her beak?!” he asked worriedly. “Geez, I hope she’s okay… Freddy told me that a lotta stuff happened while I’ve been down here, but he didn’t give me many specifics...”

Gregory laughed nervously, slowly nodding his head. “I-It happened a while ago... I kinda, um… She was chasing me, so I kinda pushed her in the trash compactor…” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. “B-But I used her voice box and put it into Freddy so we could have access to the lower levels! That's how we found that scary guy controlling everyone...”

Bonnie simply stared at Gregory for quite some time, processing this information. He didn't understand how anyone could hurt Chica, of all animatronics, especially not the sweet kid in front of him. But Bonnie had to concede that things were already going very wrong before he lost communication with everyone, as evidenced by him being stuck down here in the first place. He was sure Gregory wouldn't hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary, just as Chica wouldn't go after a child unless something was forcing her to do so. It just made him wonder what else happened that night. 

“Well... you've gotta do what you've gotta do, I suppose,” Bonnie eventually relented. “As long as Chica's okay now, I'm sure she understands, since I know that bird wouldn't hurt a fly. I can't believe she chased you...” He paused, tilting his ear. “Wait, Freddy got her voice box?!” 

“She's perfectly fine now!” Gregory reassured, then gave another quiet laugh and twiddled his thumbs. “Yeah, I kinda took the others’ parts and upgraded Freddy... But only because they chased me! I feel bad now, but... I never knew I was dead. I thought they were really gonna—” He stopped, wincing at the memories. It was times like these that he almost wished he’d never learned the truth; maybe then he wouldn’t have to relive the sight of sharp, open jaws rapidly coming at his face. “They… They managed to bite me a few times, but I always ended up somewhere else when they did and couldn't remember. Well, until Vanny told me I was dead and I remembered everything.”

“Wow... you've sure been through a lot, bud,” Bonnie commented after a moment. He wished he could smile reassuringly, but the best he could do was pat the boy's shoe again. “I'm glad everything worked out, though; I wouldn't have gotten to meet you, otherwise!” He chuckled brightly, not wanting the boy to dwell on such a dark topic. He’d have to ask Freddy for more details later, when it was just the two of them chatting. “And hey, now you learned so many skills about repairing us in case we get into any trouble! I'm sure Monty's gonna need some more fixing up eventually; he always liked to roughhouse...”

Gregory smiled at the praise, gently nodding his head. “You're right! I don't even know what I'm doing most of the time, honestly—I kinda just move whatever looks funky!” 

Bonne laughed, glad that Gregory could stay in good spirits despite the darker turn of their conversation. “You know, you had a good idea—this is where they store all our parts. You've just gotta know where to look for 'em.” He paused, then added. “I don't want you wandering or Freddy won't be happy, but maybe the kids can help you find something of mine?” He spoke a little louder so the others could hear. “Is that ok, everyone?”

It took a moment to receive an answer, which seemed to be loud metallic creaking coming closer and closer towards the door before Mia stated: “We’ll look.” 

A group of endoskeletons marched down the hall, whispering and giggling as they went, excited for the rare adventure. 

“That's a good idea,” Gregory agreed, happy he wouldn’t have to wander on his own. 

“I can look for stuff, I just… sometimes get scared still. That creepy bunny guy me and Freddy went up against... He's waaaay down below the Pizzaplex—even further down than here!”

“Creepy bunny guy?” Bonnie repeated, his ear tilting downwards. “I thought Vanny was the rabbit... and she was Vanessa?” He rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. “Everyone's trying to take my look, it seems.”

“He was so scary! He was the one controlling everyone and... And he wanted all of the souls of the children—even mine! That’s what Vanny said!” Gregory explained, soon lowering his voice to a near-whisper. “He... I think he was the creator of you, and the Pizzaplex, and everything!”

“The creator...?” Bonnie trailed off, pulling all the information he could from his memory bank. There was surprisingly little to go on, which he found odd since he knew that hadn’t been damaged by Monty’s attack, but he was eventually to pull up a basic script for when a guest asked about how the Fazbear Franchise was created. There were two founders, one with a much better reputation than the other: Henry Emily and— 

“Afton? William Afton?” Bonnie narrowed his eyes. “He was here?! I thought he disappeared—at least, that’s what my records seem to indicate. But even if he was back, he’d be old—like, really old.”

“Yeah, that’s him!” Gregory nodded at the familiar name. “We found the original Pizzaplex down below this one—or, well, an older one I think! And there were a bunch of animatronics melted into one giant pile!” The boy held his hands up, pretending to snatch something out of midair. “And it took William... I don't think he died, but it was scary. I saw him in this bunny suit, and he was all...  Zombie-looking.” He shuddered at the image of the rotting flesh and metal creature—those glowing eyes were forever burned in his memory.

Bonnie watched him carefully as he explained. Gregory had been through so much—more than any person, let alone a child, should be expected to handle. No wonder Freddy hardly set the kid on solid ground. 

“I'm sorry you had to go through that, bud,” Bonnie said, holding out his hand for Gregory to take. Again, he had the strongest urge to pull the boy into a hug and tell him that everything would be okay, but that would have to wait until he was all fixed up. “But even though it was scary, whatever happened down there freed all the animatronics!”

Gregory gently took his hand and leaned against Bonnie's side. “Yeah, I’m okay… As long as everyone’s back to normal, that's all that matters!” He sighed heavily, lowering his head to stare at the ground. “I just hope he never comes back... Neither should Vanny.” 

“Well, if they do, I'm gonna be right by your side this time—and I know the others will, too.” He chuckled softly, squeezing Gregory's hand. “And if they think Fredbear is gonna let them touch one hair on your head, they've got another thing comin'!”

“Yeah! We'll beat them up!” The boy said with a bright grin, giving Bonnie's hand a squeeze back. “…But I'm still never going back down there ever again!”

“Oh no, definitely not; you're staying here with us! And soon, I'm gonna be up in the main area with the rest of you!” As if on cue, there was a metallic shuffling outside the door, signaling the return of the endoskeletons. “Hey, guys! Did you find anything?!”

“We found plenty of spares,” Mia announced, followed by clanging of metal as they endoskeletons set everything down outside of the room. 

Gregory was quick to stand, making his way over towards the door and peeking out. “Wow! All new and shiny!”

“What parts did you find?” Bonnie asked curiously, trying to peer around Gregory to no avail. “Sounds like you’ve got one of everything out there!” 

“Exactly that,” Mia mentioned in her usual soft tone. 

“Thanks, everyone!” he called to the room of endos. “You’re a huge help! And thanks for leading them as usual, Mia!”

As the endoskeletons marched off to find their places once again, Gregory made a mental note that the main one that talked was named Mia. He grinned, hopeful that he’d be able to figure out the others’ names soon as well! 

“Freddy said he wanted to get you to Parts and Service with Monty's help,” the boy mentioned, stepping back to Bonnie’s side. “But I wanna help as much as I can, too!”

“You’ve already done a lot, bud!” Bonnie assured him, and at that moment he heard the faint sound of the elevator arriving back to the basement. He met Gregory’s gaze with a chuckle. “I think your dad’s back!” 

Freddy stepped out of the elevator, a couple of drawstring bags clutched in one hand. The bags were covered in a design of suns and stars, and Freddy grinned to the room of exoskeletons as he raised them up. “Hello again, everyone! I have brought you some gifts!”

Gregory froze for a moment to listen until he heard Freddy's voice, then ran full-speed out of the room and latched himself onto Freddy's leg. “Freddy! I missed you!”

“Hi, superstar!” the bear replied, patting Gregory’s head, since couldn’t bend down due to what he was carrying. “Please step back a moment and I will show you what I have!”

Gregory pulled away somewhat reluctantly, clasping his hands behind his back. He had a lot to update Freddy on, but he wanted to see what gifts were brought first.

Freddy set the bags on the nearby table. “I am sorry I took so long, but I stopped by the daycare and told Sun that I needed some arts supplies for a group of new friends; he made some care packages for everyone, so these should last you for a while! Also—” He opened his chest hatch to reveal an oversized vanilla cake, which he held in both hands and bent to show Gregory. “This is for you, Gregory!”

Gregory gasped happily at the sight, his eyes widening with excitement. “Thanks; this looks so good!” 

The endoskeletons shifted in place before Mia finally spoke up. “Everyone’s very excited and thanking you up and down, Freddy.”

“You are all very welcome,” Freddy replied, grinning from ear to ear. His favorite thing was making children happy—it was the core of his programming, after all. He held the cake up slightly before Gregory could grab it, knowing it would be a bit too heavy for the small boy. “Here, let us take the cake over to Bonnie’s room so the three of us can sit together; then the others can play as well.” He hoped that someday the children would gain enough confidence to move when they were looking, but he knew that would take some time.

“Okay!” Gregory chirped, turning to make his way down the hall and back into the room where Bonnie sat. “Bonnie, guess what? Freddy brought me cake!”

“Ooh! Vanilla, right? Your fave!” Bonnie said as Freddy held the cake in one hand and pulled out a set of napkins and utensils from his stomach hatch. Freddy laid a napkin on the ground and set the cake plate on top of it, then handed Gregory a fork. 

“Since there are no others you need to share this with, have at it, superstar!” Freddy said, gesturing to the enormous sweet. Normally, he’d never let a child eat cake this way, but since Gregory didn’t have to worry about what he ate, he might as well have fun!

Gregory happily took his fork and dug in. He soon remembered what he wanted to tell Freddy and swallowed his first bite down. “Oh, Freddy! I fixed Bonnie's voice box all by myself!”

“Oh!” Freddy met Bonnie’s gaze, still smiling. “I thought you sounded like your old self!” Freddy ruffled Gregory’s hair gently. “Great job!” 

“Yeah, your kid is amazing!” Bonnie added. “With him around, I’ll be fixed up in no time.”

“They also helped bring more spare parts for Bonnie!” the boy added, his voice muffled due to the mouthful of food.

 “Did they?” Freddy peered around the doorframe and soon found the pile of parts. “That is wonderful! Maybe we can try to get you walking again tonight!” 

“You sure?” Bonnie asked, his ear tilting downwards. “I don’t wanna make Gregory work too much…” 

“Roxy should be able to help as well, so the task will not all be on him,” Freddy replied with a smile.

“I wanna help, but Roxy does a good job, too!” Gregory insisted. He definitely wanted to get Bonnie back up and working as soon as possible, but he knew that there were things he didn’t necessarily want to try and fix on his own. “She’s the one that fixed up Monty the other day!”

“Did she?” Bonnie asked, not sounding totally convinced. “Well, if you guys say so…” 

“She is surprisingly adept at mechanical repairs,” Freddy replied with a chuckle. Then he paused, realizing another step they’d need to take to get their friend fixed. “Bonnie, I do not think I can carry you up to Parts & Service by myself, especially if your battery will not keep a charge that will allow you to hold on with your own strength… How would you feel about Monty assisting me? He can get you there the fastest, though I understand if you would rather see someone else.” 

Bonnie was silent for a few moments, then let out a sigh. “I’m gonna have to see him again sometime, so… might as well do it now! As long as you’re with me, Fredbear, I’ll be good.”

Gregory nodded, pushing his half-eaten cake aside. “We'll always be here with you! Besides, Monty is really nice!” He frowned, lightly tapping his chin in thought. “How will we keep the security guards off of our trail, though? We need a good distraction!”

 “Oh… right.” Freddy sighed heavily. He’d completely forgotten about those two… 

“Isn’t nighttime security usually pretty lackluster?” Bonnie asked curiously. “Excluding the previous guard, I mean—she was obviously a bad exception...” 

“Maybe I can scare them away!” Gregory suggested with a sly grin. The vague notion of possibly releasing Moon if things got desperate also crossed his mind… but he wasn't sure if the animatronic would scare the night guards or him more.

Freddy gave a concerned hum, thinking aloud: “That would certainly be helpful, but I do not want you to do such a thing on your own—at least not without someone nearby just in case one of the guards acts erratically... maybe Chica can help you?” 

Gregory huffed, crossing his arms. “Okay, fine…” However, his smile quickly returned at the thought of all the things they could do. “I'll think up a plan!”

 “Alright,” Freddy agreed, a bit reluctantly. At least if Chica was there, he knew she would keep Gregory safe. He checked his internal clock, realizing that it was much later than he expected. “Oh dear—Gregory, it is almost time for the final show of the night, and I cannot risk missing this one. Do you feel comfortable coming with me, or would you like to stay here until the building closes down?” 

“Whatever you wanna do is fine with me, bud; I'll see you again later tonight, anyway!” Bonnie added with an excited laugh.

Gregory was quick to stand and raise his arms out for Freddy to lift him up. “I wanna go with you!” He didn't have any plans on leaving Freddy's side any time soon—at least, not until it was time to put their new plan into motion.

“Then we should be off,” Freddy said, picking Gregory up and hugging him tightly. He shifted the boy to one arm, then bent to pick up the leftover cake. “I do not like wasting this, but it will not store well down here, so I will drop it off in the nearest trash bin; we can always get you another one later.” He locked gazes with Bonnie, grinning at him. “We will be back soon!” 

“Yup; see ya, Fredbear!” Bonnie waved, his ear seeming to wiggle in tandem with his hand due to his eagerness. Finally, he'd get to walk again! “See ya, bud!”

“Bye Bonnie, see you soon!” Gregory replied, waving his hand at the animatronic. As Freddy carried Gregory out, the endoskeletons were mostly back to their original places lining the hallway. However, the many goodie bags were opened and a few crayons were clutched in some spindly, mechanical hands. 

“Thanks again, Freddy,” Mia said, in a tone which indicated the bright smile on her face.

“Of course; let me know if that is enough and if not, Sun will be more than happy to make you some more!” Freddy replied, waving as they stepped into the elevator. As the metal box rose, he lowered Gregory to the ground and opened his stomach hatch. “The Pizzaplex is busy, so I would suggest hiding inside until we get backstage; then I will let you out and you can join the crowd, as usual. Is that alright?”

“Sounds like a plan, dad!” Gregory said as he climbed into the hatch and hugged his knees up to his chest. Despite his earlier tiredness, the cake certainly helped give him some energy back!

Freddy’s smile widened as much as physically possible. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing Gregory refer to him as “dad;” it just felt… right. Freddy was quick to deposit the remains of the cake in the nearest trash can as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. The Pizzaplex was indeed busy with guests rushing to get one last activity in before the place closed, and Freddy was glad that Gregory was hidden from the prying hands of kids that he ran across in his travels. He finally made it to the backstage area where the others were already waiting with a few minutes to spare. 

“Freddy!” a technician yelled as soon as the bear appeared in the doorway. “Where the hell have you been?! You missed the last show, and Chica said you were having recharge troubles!” 

“I am sorry!” Freddy apologized quickly, standing still as a flashlight was shined directly in his eyes. “Yes, I was too low on energy to safely perform earlier, so I asked Montgomery to take my place. But I am fine now!” He flashed the tech a big smile.

“It's all true!” Monty added, folding his arms over his chest and flashing a grin. “We wouldn't want another incident in the same week, so he that’s why he asked me to take over!” 

The staff member glanced at Monty and then back to Freddy, sighing softly. “Well, be careful next time. The managers won't be pleased if this happens again, and neither will the technicians.”

“Of course; I will be sure to charge properly from now on,” Freddy reassured them, happy when they started walking away. He waved as they left the room, calling after them, “I am sorry again for the inconvenience!” 

“Whew! That was a close one,” Roxy commented, hands on her hips. “They were not happy about you skipping, Freddy…” She looked around him, trying to find the child usually glued to his hip. “No kid with you this time? Oh no—he’s not invisible again, is he?!”

At the sound of Roxy’s voice, Gregory pushed the hatch open and carefully hopped out. He landed on the ground and threw his hands above his head with huge grin. “Ta-da!” 

“What a wonderful magic trick!” Chica exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. 

“Hey there, squirt!” Monty said, patting the top of Gregory’s head. “You totally missed my awesome performance! It was so much better than Roxy's!” He gave the wolf a playful nudge with his tail.

“Thank you again for covering for me, Monty,” Freddy said, giving the gator a fist-bump. “I am sure your performance was wonderful; it is nice to change the line-up every once in a while!” 

“Yeah, except next time, can you let me take the front stage?” Roxy asked, flipping her hair back so it brushed annoyingly across Monty's face. 

“I will be sure to make that arrangement,” Freddy agreed with a laugh. Suddenly, the animatronics blinked in unison as an alert flashed across their visions, and Freddy smiled down at Gregory. “It is time to go on stage; we will meet back here afterwards, okay, superstar?”

“Sounds good! I'll go find a good spot!” the boy said with a nod, giving the group a thumbs-up before running off. He wanted to make sure he got the best spot in the house, after all!

***

Masterlist of chapters on Tumblr here!

Please check out The Superstar Series on ao3 for all fics in this series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2726401

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #five nights at freddy's #gregory #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #glamrock chica #roxy #roxanne wolf #monty #montgomery gator #endoskeletons #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #we found him superstar #the superstar series #angelofrainfrogs

[myhatisblue]

long haired mills and expressions 

#series mills is such a nerd #The long hair thing is just based on pure spite cause ken hates it beyond words and Mills is still bitter about the eye thing #Mills still has to deal with hearing his voice in his head but he has gotten pretty good at blocking him out aside from some certain places #post series jazz of course

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

excuse me im on my period and crying over this shutup????? 😭😭😭😭 i want to keep him all to myself<3 he is the most precious thing you've ever given us i can't thank you enough

Harry tells her she doesn’t have to because he doesn’t want her to feel burdened by his personal issues, but she insists on doing it because, “It’s really not that big of a deal, H. Plus, I’ve been wanting to put platinum in my hair for a while now, it looks incredible.”

He blinks at her meekly, his voice just as soft as his expression. “It does?”

“Yeah! People literally spend thousands of dollars at salons to get their hair all pretty and silvery like yours. And you can also dye it fun colors without having to lighten it, and it’s guaranteed to be super vibrant because white is the perfect base shade. You get to do all that without the hassle!”

“I never thought of it that way…”

“I’m jealous, if anything. Silver’s the coolest color for hair, in my opinion.”

The corners of his lips twitch into the faintest smitten smile, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the pale curls along the edge of his hairline. “So you like my hair, then?”

Y/N returns his gentle gesture, reaching up and ruffling his ringlets playfully, her heart throbbing as he instinctively cradles his head into her grasp. “I love your hair.”

Her personal reassurance seems to soothe him more than her explanation, evident in how his shoulders gradually lose the tension they’d been carrying since that afternoon. They’d been grocery shopping at the supermarket earlier that day, minding their business and checking things off her notes app as they went, when he’d noticed that a random elderly woman had been giving him a dirty look. Upon closer inspection of the lady and her friend, he’d heard them talking in the next aisle over about how ridiculous his hair looked, and how “youth these days love to do the weirdest things for attention.”

The steep accusation had caused him to shrink into himself out of scorned humiliation. His hair wasn’t his fault, and it certainly wasn’t to purposefully bring attention to himself. In fact, he hates bringing attention to himself. Being what he is— being different— requires that he go through life as quiet and undetected as possible, milling in the shadows to avoid any trouble that could result from his concealed identity. His hair is a feature he can’t help— it had been dyed this way since the moment he was turned human (he has a theory that it’s a residual characteristic pertaining to his true form, considering it bears similarities to the light that would emit from his core), and its appearance is completely out of his control. He can’t be blamed for something he has no jurisdiction over. That isn’t fair.

Harry never really minded the white patches in his curls, but after hearing those women talk so rudely of him in such a degrading manner, his mood had immediately dampened drastically, and he could sense that unfortunate shift had been significant on his face. He could feel his lips dipping into a heavy frown, and he could feel his brows knitting in pained embarrassment, and he could feel his shoulders knotting themselves into a taut frenzy. And he could also feel Y/N coming up behind him and placing a comforting palm on his back, her face hardening with sharpened anger as she’d also overheard the mean rant the women had been been spewing about him.

Her first impulse had been to stalk over into the next aisle and tell them where they could shove their walkers, but Harry had begged her not to (“It’s fine, Y/N. Really. Let’s just go, we still have other errands to run and they’re not worth the time.”). She could tell his ceasefire came from a place of conformity and anxiety; he didn’t want to cause any conflict because it would surely draw unwanted eyes to the situation, and that’s the last thing he needed. Those eyes were capable of judging him just as harshly, if not more, and he would rather let it tide over than run the risk of exposing himself to more negativity. He just didn’t want to be a beacon for cruel observation, and she could respect that.

Therefore, Y/N had let it go. To an extent. She’d let the elderly hags get away with their stupid unsolicited opinions, but she’d found an intermediate solution by grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him to the personal hygiene section of the store, combing the area until she found the hair dye shelves. She’d grabbed a bleach kit and chucked it into the cart without a word, nodding to herself with determination as he gazed down at the box with confused curiosity.

“What’s that?”

“Bleach.”

“Bleach? Like the chemical you put on white clothes to erase stains?”

“Kinda. Different chemical for a different medium, but the cause is the same. You’ll see.”

And here they are now, hours later, with Y/N pouring the contents of the kit (a starchy light blue powder and a small bottle of foul-smelling white sludge) into a plastic bowl, telling him that it has the ability to leech the color from her hair so it looks like his. And here they are now, with Harry insisting that she doesn’t have to strip her locks just because he got upset about some random people mocking him, and that he doesn’t want her to feel forced into undergoing such a drastic change for his benefit. And here they are now, with Y/N waving off his concerns and assuring him that it’s no big deal, and that she’s been wanting to do this long before he even came into the picture, and that today had just inspired her to finally bite the bullet and go for it. And here they are now, with Y/N praising him and confessing that she loves his hair so much to the point where she wants her own to look the same.

A sudden torrent of heat floods into the alien’s cheeks at her heartfelt compliment, and he’s well versed enough in human physiology by now to recognize that his emotions are probably broadcasting across his face at the moment in the form of a frazzled blush. That only makes the warmth under his skin rise in intensity, and he finds himself chewing along the inside of his cheek to keep the fluttering in his belly at bay. She loves his hair. That one notion nearly cures his insecurities altogether.

“Thanks.” Harry finally murmurs, picking at the chipping metallic polish on his nails as he glances up at her shyly from below his lashes, his mouth twisting into a full, delicate smile. “Feel a little better now. And truthfully…having matching hair will help a lot, I think.”

“Good.” Y/N sighs in a decisive tone, thrusting the bowl in her hands into his own palms, dropping a tiny plastic whisk inside and giving him an expectant grin. “Because I was gonna do it regardless. Now here, mix this while I go grab some gloves.”

#alienrry

[critrolesideblog]

"Do you enjoy card games?" At this query, Caleb looked up slowly, finally, from the Aeorian tome he had been frowning at all day.

It was the third day of a forced respite from their Aeorian expedition. They had been beset on their last outing by a three-headed abomination that, though quickly vanquished, had left Caleb with a series of nasty bites that bled with alarming profusion. A couple of healing potions had stopped the bleeding and partly healed the wounds, but they stubbornly refused to heal up entirely. So, at Essek's insistence and Caleb's reluctant acceptance, they were taking a break.

Caleb had spent their "break" thus far puzzling over an incomplete Aeorian formula with increasing frustration and, despite Essek's efforts at reassurance, guilt at delaying their explorations. Caleb had stubbornly refused both Essek's help and his suggestions that he work on something else for a while. So, Essek moved to Plan C.

"I, ah, ja, I suppose so," Caleb replied, azure eyes glancing down to Essek's hands, deftly shuffling the deck he had procured from the second floor of the tower. "Although, it has been some time since I've played one."

"It has for me as well." Essek glided around the desk Caleb was seated at to place himself on the opposite side, as Caleb considered him thoughtfully, and as he seated himself, the Zemnian wizard gently closed the tome with a small sigh and made space on the desk by unceremoniously shoving a small mountain of wadded-up, discarded parchment onto the floor, to the annoyed meows, chitters, and huffs of a number of the tower cats. "It's been at least," Essek took a large breath and let it out in a slow sigh, making a production of thinking over the many decades it had been since his last game with Verin. "Oh, at least 70 years, maybe 80." Caleb leveled a deadpan gaze at him for his efforts, though he was unable to completely school the muscles at the corners of his lips that wanted to form a smirk at his little one-upmanship. Essek allowed himself a satisfied grin in return. "Still, I thought it might be a pleasant diversion."

"Do you have a particular game in mind, old man?" Ha. Essek considered the possibilities, unsure of which, if any, games spanned their two cultures.

"Hm, there was one Verin was particularly fond of when we were children. The cards are dealt evenly between the players," he explained and began dispensing the cards. "And the goal is to obtain the entire deck. Without looking, we each take turns flipping cards over into a pile in the center, until someone plays a face card. When that happens, the next player tries to beat the value of the previous card, Aces being of greatest value, and whomever has the highest card claims the pile."

"Simple enough."

"Indeed, but when Verin played, he was fond of what he called..." He paused to consider how best to convey it in Common. It was odd the random words that came up as blank spots in his vocabulary. Punch...? No, not punch. "How do you say it ... There is a word, I think, for when you hit something with your palm?" He mimed the motion of doing it to someone's face.

Caleb raised an eyebrow, a bemused expression settling on his features. "A slap?"

"Yes!” Now that Caleb said it he was certain he had heard it before. “He liked to play with...” He paused to consider the translation again. “Slap rules."

"Slap rules?"

"When two cards of the same value are played in a row, or on either side of a single card, any player may slap their hand down and claim the pile, whomever is quickest."

"Alright, I think I've got it." They each scooped up their respective piles of cards and formed them into neat stacks in their hands. "Shall we?" There was a glimmer of friendly competitiveness in Caleb's eyes that made Essek's heart-rate tick up a little.

"After you."

They took turns flipping over cards, slowly at first, random numbers of varying colors stacking one on top of the other until Caleb, at last, turned over a Jack. "Ah, let's see if you can beat that, Her Thelyss." Essek dealt his next card. Six. He let out a little huff of disappointment as Caleb slid the pile towards himself with the ghost of a grin hovering around his mouth.

"Danke." He said, adding the pile to his hand.

"Ole hyvä." Essek deadpanned. Amusement crinkled the edges of Caleb's eyes, and an increasingly familiar warm affection took up residence in Essek's chest. They began again, flipping the cards a little faster this time.

Thump. Caleb blinked with surprise as Essek claimed the pile. He moved his hand back slightly to reveal the most recent cards - two threes in a row. "Aaah, right, slap rules."

"Indeed."

They began again, flipping the cards over a little faster still. Essek glanced up at Caleb's face. The guilt and frustration that had tugged on his features the past two days seemed to have released their grip, in favor of intent observation. He looked back down -- two eights! Their hands collided as they both reached for the pile at the same time, but Caleb eked out a victory, his fingers managing to slip just under Essek's. Caleb gave a soft "ha!" as he claimed the pile, and Essek found himself grinning as well, despite the loss. He had not considered that their hands would inevitably touch over the course of this game, but he couldn't say he minded.

"You can imagine, perhaps," he said slowly as they began turning over cards again, resolutely watching the cards this time, "two little Drow boys slapping the cards, and each other, with increasing enthusiasm as the game goes on." Caleb chuckled.

"I can indeed. In Blumenthal, we had a game where we just slapped each other's hands to see who was fastest, no cards needed." Both of their hands shot out - a nine flanked by a pair of fives this time. Again, there was Caleb's warm hand under Essek's instead of cardstock. He made a show of hissing with frustration, baring his fangs a little, but he was sure it was belied by the grin still tugging at his mouth. Caleb didn't seem the least bit intimidated as he added the cards to his hand, amusement crinkling the eyes again. The warm affection steadily blooming in Essek's chest grew warmer still. They began again, and after a moment of dealing cards in companionable silence, Caleb asked, "What is he like? Your brother?"

A memory filled Essek's senses. He and his brother were in a ballroom on the Thelyss estate. Members of various Dens and the upper echelon of the military were milling about them to the strains of soft music and polite conversation. Verin was grinning with a brash pride at being appointed Taskhand, chin held high, chest puffed out. A gleeful victory polished his silver eyes to shining. Earlier that evening, Essek had retied the bun neatly collecting his little brother's many braids to make sure he was presentable for the ceremony. Verin had ruffled Essek's hair to make sure he wasn't. "Tall," he replied, finally, and then muttered, "the bastard." That shocked a laugh out of Caleb, as Essek hoped it would, and he tried to suppress his own victorious grin.

"How rude of him growing past his elder brother!" Caleb laughed.

"The disrespect," Essek opined, shaking his head. "When we were teenagers, I once escorted him to a shop - he wanted to buy a trinket for some girl, and I needed spell components."

"Naturally."

"And the shopkeeper complimented him on how kind he was to take his little brother out shopping." Caleb's laugh was lovelier than any sound Essek could think to compare it to. "I could have strangled that shopkeep. I knew I would never hear the end of it. All I heard for months after that was little brother this, and little brother that."

"How did you get him to stop?"

"Violence." Essek claimed the card pile with a Jack of Spades. "I mastered Telekinesis and tossed him into a snowbank."

"Ja, naturally, as one does." Caleb's voice was warm with amusement.

Essek felt no need to mention that Verin had enjoyed the experience and asked to be tossed into the snowbank three more times. "He's naturally charming," Essek continued. "Too much for his own good, sometimes. He has forgotten on more than one occasion to check whether the targets of his charms were married first."

"Uh-oh," Caleb chuckled.

"Indeed." Essek rolled his eyes with old exasperation and then claimed the pile of cards again with a Queen of Hearts. "He's smart, but he always preferred fighting and flirting to academics. Still, he has a keen mind for battle strategy, tactics, problem-solving. Much too honest for politics, but he is the sort of person people turn to naturally for leadership, and he takes that responsibility seriously." Caleb claimed the pile this time, King of Clubs.

"He sounds like a good person," Caleb ventured quietly.

Another memory rose up, unbidden. Verin when he was a long way yet from being Verin. They had called him Rei then, and Essek had been called Kai. Rei was a baby, barely old enough to walk, but his tiny hand patted Kai's shoulder gently as his elder brother tried not to cry over a skinned knee. His silver eyes, large in his small, round face, clearly full of a sympathy he did not have words yet to express. Essek nodded. "Even when he was a child. As a toddler, any time he received a treat, his first instinct was always to share it, with me or Nanny, or the housekeepers, even, whomever was nearby." Haluatko vähän? Do you want some? The little boy had always asked. Haluatko vähän? He had asked the less popular children in school, as he went out of his way to share his snacks and his shine. Haluatko vähän? He had asked with an excited smile, on the eve of his deployment to Bazzoxan, before running out into the rain to get fried insects from his favorite street vendor, like a child and not the 105-year-old man that he was, and again after purchasing it and exclaiming how delicious they were, Haluatko vähän? "He has always had a good heart." Icy tendrils began to snake their way through Essek's chest, like the mold of Aeor, feeding on the heat there and turning it into cold, cold shame and guilt. How had Verin remained so good and Essek turned so wrong?

He didn't ask the question aloud, but Caleb seemed to guess where his mind had turned and countered it with a question of his own. "Perhaps some credit goes to his elder brother for shielding his good heart?" Essek made himself look into Caleb's eyes, and their hands paused in their game for a moment. There was no pity in the Lucidian blue, just a gentle curiosity. It was a genuine question.

Essek considered the hypothesis. He had tried his best to keep Verin on the right side of the Umavi's scrutiny and their father's temper and out of any problems he couldn't punch his way out of. But was it as simple as being the younger of the two? Essek had felt as much affection for Nanny as Verin had, but he wasn't sure he had ever offered to share a treat with her before Verin came along. If he had, he certainly hadn't continued to offer after repeated declinations out of an immovable sense of fairness. As far as Essek could recall, they had always been of wildly different dispositions. Verin was boisterous where Essek was quiet, outgoing where he was introverted, gregarious where he was selfish, courageous where he was cowardly. Try as he might, Essek could not imagine Verin doing the things he had done, for the Dynasty or against it, for mere power.

"Very little," he concluded. "I did try to look out for him, but for all that we share in origin, we are very different people. There is no discarded timeline with a Shadowhand Verin."

Caleb considered this thoughtfully for a moment and then tossed a card down with his verdict: "That last assertion is unfalsifiable." Essek raised an eyebrow and tossed a card down. Yes, he supposed it was... for now...

Thump. Caleb slid the pile crowned by two Kings toward himself with a satisfied grin. "You know this game is very unfair to you, Herr Thelyss." There was a spark of mischief in his eyes, and Essek felt the chill in his chest begin to ease. "What with my being so much younger than you, better reflexes and all of that."

Essek scoffed and shook his head, a grin returning to his face. The nerve. "Oh, we'll see about that."

#baby's first ficlet #first one posted to the worldwide web anyway #please be gentle #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #shadowgast #a little but mostly Essek thinkin about his brother #verin thelyss #Apologies to anyone who speaks Finnish if the Google Translates are terrible #my writing tag

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Fire and Ice Day for @nessianweek Yes, I just wanted an excuse to write more hockey player Cassian. No, I will not be taking criticisms at this time. Follow up to this drabble. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Nesta steps out of the English building, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, winter air. The lecture hall had been stifling, and the way Professor Matthews had droned on and on about Chekhov had her desperate for the class to end. She cuts across the Commons, heading toward the library, when she hears heavy footsteps fall in beside her. She doesn't need to look to know who they belong to. 

"So about that dinner," Cassian starts. 

"I don't actually recall agreeing to it." 

"Well, how else am I supposed to thank you for being there in my time of concussion need?" 

"You don't need to thank me. Maybe I was just hoping to see if a good thwack to your head would finally fix it. Clearly, it didn't." 

"Sadly, all it did was make my two working brain cells become just one," Cassian says, putting on his best solemn tone. 

The comment pulls a surprised laugh out of Nesta, and when she turns her head to look at Cassian, his smile is wide and his eyes are bright. She swears she can almost see pride swimming in those flecks of gold that make up his hazel eyes. 

"So what time should I pick you up?" 

Nesta doesn't respond. She merely rolls her eyes with a scoff and continues toward the library. That is until Cassian uses his long strides to step in front of her, effectively cutting her path off. 

"What do you have to lose?"

"My sanity?" 

"So 6:00 then?" 

Nesta takes a moment to take Cassian in. He still has that cocky grin that never seems to leave splashed across his face. But she doesn't miss the way he fidgets, running a hand through his tangle of dark curls, nor does she miss the nervous pinch around his eyes. She supposes she could go for a good meal, and while Cassian most definitely gets under her skin, he's not the worst company. 

"I have to meet with my group for our psychology project. 7:00?" 

"Deal." 

The smile on Cassian's face pulls even wider, and Nesta's pretty sure the only thing keeping him from actually cheering is the way he clenches his fists at his side. It's endearing, and Nesta bites the inside of her cheek to keep her own smile tampered down. 

"Well, see you then," Nesta says, starting back toward her original destination of the library. 

"Wear something nice, yeah?" Cassian calls after her. 

Nesta flips him off over her shoulder at the comment, and Cassian's booming laughter follows her all the way across the Commons. 

Luckily, meeting with the students in her group project isn't too migraine inducing. They divvy up the work and all agree on who will take which slides. When she makes it back to her dorm, she pulls a black dress out and gets started on her makeup. 

At 7:00 on the dot, there's a knock at her door. She quickly slips on her heels before pulling it open, Cassian waiting on the other side. The way that Cassian's mouth drops open and the awed way he whispers, "holy shit," has a blush creeping in and settling on Nesta's cheeks. 

"You clean up nice," she notes. 

And he does. Cassian has on a button down, the sleeves rolled up slightly, the tanned skin of his forearms and the ink that swirls against it on full display. Both the shirt and the black slacks he's wearing are form fitting, showing off the athletic cut to his body, years of skating having done wonders for honing the muscles. And while Cassian's dark curls are loose against his shoulders, Nesta can tell he's put product in it. 

Nesta waits for Cassian to make some sort of quip back after her comment, maybe for him to even comment on her, but he just continues to stare like he can't believe she's actually real. She tries not to focus on the fact that look has her heart beating double time in her chest, or the fact that warmth settles through her whole body. Instead, Nesta just rolls her eyes and steps fully into the hall, closing her door behind her. The sound seems to jolt Cassian back to reality, who blinks hard before his eyes focus properly on Nesta's own. 

"Wait," he says. "Bring your skates."

"My skates?" Nesta asks confusedly. "I thought we were going to dinner?"

"We are, but bring them."

"Why?"

"Just bring them." 

Nesta sighs, clearly not getting a straight answer out of him. But she heads back inside, stuffing a heavy pair of socks into her skates. She steps into the hall, skates in hand, and raises a pointed eyebrow as if to ask, 'happy?' Cassian's just answers with a wide grin. 

Cassian leads Nesta down to his truck, and she's surprised when he drives them to one of the higher end chophouses downtown. Dinner is good and the conversation flows easily between them. Cassian even asks Nesta about her current book and actually looks genuinely interested as she explains it. Although, his smirk is infuriating as she tries to subtly skip over the more… scandalous parts. 

After dinner, they clamber back into Cassian's truck, and Nesta's brow pinches in confusion as they pull into the rink parking lot. This explains the skate request. When Nesta looks over at Cassian, his eyes are already on her. Under the yellow glow of the parking lot lights, his eyes look extra golden, but Nesta doesn't miss the mischievous glint swimming in them. 

"I'm not exactly dressed for skating," Nesta points out, glancing down at her dress as if to prove her point. 

"Says who?"

"I'm serious." 

Rather than respond, Cassian just reaches back into the backseat of his truck, producing one of the hockey team sweatshirts, which he holds out toward Nesta. Nesta hesitates for only a moment before she's pulling it on over her dress. It's clearly too big on her, but the fabric is soft and the scent of fabric softener and Cassian fills her senses. 

When they get inside, the Friday night public skate is still in full swing, families and awkward high school dates milling about on the ice and in the lobby. In their attire, Nesta is sure that she and Cassian must stick out like sore thumbs. They walk up to the reception desk, and Nesta expects Cassian to ask for two passes for the public skate, but instead he and the rink staffer share a pointed look and then a key is being slid inconspicuously into Cassian's hand. Before Nesta can even start to ask what that means, Cassian is grabbing her hand, pulling her down the hall, past the locker rooms and snack bar. His eyes quickly dart around before he slides the key into the right side of the double doors, tugging Nesta inside and flipping on the lights. 

"The tiny-ass practice rink?" Nesta asks, looking around.

"Bal owes me a favor," Cassian explains, pocketing the key. 

Cassian grabs Nesta's hand again and leads her around to the benches. They each take their time trading their shoes for skates before stepping out onto the ice. 

There's something about the way ice feels under her feet that calms Nesta in a way nothing else can. The cutting sound of her skates against it is like music to her ears. She glides easily to center ice, taking a deep breath and letting the cold welcome her into its embrace. She feels Cassian's presence behind her, warm hands settling on her hips. 

"You know you look better in this sweatshirt than I ever did," he says, voice pitched low. 

"Sounds like a personal problem," Nesta counters, turning around to face Cassian. "It's not my fault even hockey things look better on figure skaters." 

"Big words coming from someone who needs a toe pick to stop."

"That's not what a toe pick is for." 

"How about a race then? To settle things." 

"Fine." 

They both skate over to the goal line, getting into their starting positions. Cassian counts them in with a ‘ready, set, go,’ and then they’re off, sprinting down the ice. Nesta’s hair whips past her face, the cool rink air rushing along her cheeks, as she pushes her legs to go faster and faster still. Cassian crosses the other goal line first, an icy spray flying up as he stops hard before the boards. Nesta stops beside him, crossing her arms as she takes in his wide smirk. 

"You totally cheated."

"What? I did not."

"You have longer legs. It's an unfair advantage."

"Sounds like excuses to me. Just admit it. Hockey players are better."

"Are they? Could a hockey player do this?" 

Nesta pushes off the boards and settles easily into her stride. A swing of her leg and a push of her foot and she's up in the air, pulling her arms in tight as she twists and twists around. Her feet land back on the ice and she glides out of the move gracefully. When her eyes land back on Cassian, his own are wide and awed as he watches her. But then his eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Who’s cheating now?” 

“Fine. Something simple then.” 

Nesta jumps and does a single twist, holding her arms out when she lands and raising an eyebrow toward Cassian in challenge. His eyes stay narrowed on her, but he pushes off the boards, settling into a stride toward center ice. 

“How hard can it be,” Cassian mutters. 

Cassian skates a few circles, clearly trying to walk himself through the move, trying to hype himself up. Nesta has to bite the inside of her cheek while she waits. After a few moments, he throws himself into the air, spinning around once. His skates land back on the ice, and for a moment, Nesta is about to be impressed, but then his left foot is slipping out from under him. He falls ass-first onto the ice with a loud ‘oof.’ 

Nesta can’t help the loud laugh that tears its way out of her chest. She tries to press a hand to her mouth to stifle it, but her whole body shakes with it. When she finally calms down and finds Cassian's stare again, his face is marred with an unimpressed frown. 

“I’m so glad my pain brings you joy,” Cassian says sarcastically before holding his arms up toward her. “Aren’t you going to help me up?” 

“No.” 

Nesta realizes she’s made a mistake. A slow smirk slides across Cassian’s face and even from across the rink, there’s no missing the mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Nesta can even blink, Cassian is on his feet and charging toward her across the ice. The rink is small with nowhere to go, so soon Nesta finds herself cornered back against the boards, Cassian’s arms bracketing her in on either side. 

Cassian opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but it gets lost along the way, and instead he just stares. This close up, Nesta can see the greens hidden in his hazel eyes, the way they flicker under the rink lights. Cassian’s eyes drop down to her lips before settling back on her eyes, and Nesta’s heart does a little flip in her chest. 

"Can I kiss you?"

"What if I say no?"

Cassian leans in closer, and Nesta can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips, is sure that he can feel the way the breath hitches in her throat. 

"Say no, then," Cassian whispers. 

The silence hangs between them for only a second before Cassian closes the distance, pressing his lips to Nesta’s. Nesta practically melts into it, pressing closer as their lips slot and slide against one another. One of Cassian’s hands comes up to bracket her jaw, his other arm wrapping securely around her waist. She can feel the way he sighs against her lips, the deep groan in his chest as the kiss deepens. 

"Hey, why are the lights on back here?" 

They break apart at the sudden voice, Cassian taking Nesta’s hand and tugging her down so they’re hidden behind the boards and out of sight. They can hear the footsteps of the rink staffer walking around, and Nesta turns to glare at Cassian. 

"I swear, if we end up arrested because of you…"

"Don't worry. I'd never let that happen. We're both too pretty for jail."

#my fic #acotar #nessianweek2021 #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts writing #jimin writing #jimin fanfic #bts au

[wondernimbus]

everything you didn’t say — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.

a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn't save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :'') 

“Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.

[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.

He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.

Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.

“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”

Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”

[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.

“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.

Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.

”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.

”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.

”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”

She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.

”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.

There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.

[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”

Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”

Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.

[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.

“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.

Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.

”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”

—

Gatherings at the Malfoy Manor were usually a grand event; peacocks would mill about the lawn, some wandering past the large castle doors and into the drawing room, where the guests would stroke their feathers in admiration with one hand and hold a glass of the finest mulled wine in the other as they spoke among themselves, laughing and boasting offhandedly about the ancient living room set they'd imported from France or their children's future careers. Sometimes one would have enough courage to bring up the notion of arranged marriages, only for Narcissa Malfoy to turn them down and say that Draco would choose for himself when the time came, veering the conversation away towards things like ministry connections.

Parties happened often back then—not as much to celebrate as to fill up the overly large halls of the manor with pointless chatter—but things have changed. It’s been a while since the Malfoys last opened their doors to guests.

Does this count as a party? Draco wonders to himself, watching Death Eaters filter into the drawing room, some wearing sickening grins and others looking dead inside.

There are no more wandering peacocks. No more music, no more friendly guests eager to wed their children into the Malfoy family. There are only murderers. Death Eaters. There is laughter, but the kind that has Draco feeling uneasy.

Things have changed. Draco wonders if it's for the better.

He knows he and [Y/N] can't hide here forever—at the edge of the shadowed banister overlooking the entrance hall—but they stay there for as long as they can, until his grim-looking mother comes up the staircase and beckons for them to join the party.

Party. Ha.

So Draco and [Y/N] trail after Narcissa, who leads them into the drawing room, where most of the Death Eaters have gathered. No peacocks, no music, but there is wine, and almost everyone is clutching a glass of it.

He feels [Y/N]'s fingers graze against his. Looking over at her, she sees him staring placidly in front of her, meeting no one's gaze, but she seems to feel his eyes on her—so she turns her head to the side, and Draco sees her facade slip away for the smallest of split seconds as the look on her face softens and she gives him this small, reassuring smile.

He can almost hear her voice inside his head: we'll be okay.

Draco swallows. Nods just a fraction of an inch.

People clap him on the back as he passes, congratulating him and [Y/N] for a job well done at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco nods mutely and lets [Y/N] do the talking—she has always been better at keeping her composure, masking her true thoughts.

"Could never have imagined it," cackles Alecto Carrow, marching up to them in the middle of the large room. Her cheeks are already tinged pink with intoxication, voice a higher pitch than usual. "Most I expected from you lot was.. well, nothing, really. Doubted you could even fix a dresser, much less a whole bloody cabinet!" she shrieks with laughter, some of the wine from her glass spilling onto the floor.

[Y/N]'s gaze is stony. "Thank you."

Alecto’s nose wrinkles, her chortles dying down. "Thank you?" she repeats. "S'that all you have to say?"

For a brief, horrifying moment, Draco almost thinks [Y/N] is going to bite back with a sarcastic remark—but things have changed and there is a mark on her arm now, so instead she says, flatly, "It wasn’t an easy feat." A slight pause. "We’re just as surprised as you."

Alecto grins. She seems satisfied. "Well, 'course it wasn't an easy feat, or at least for you." She takes a big swig out of her glass. "Could’ve done it myself in ten minutes, isn't that right, Amycus?"

Her brother Amycus snickers but doesn't reply. Draco knows it's because he doubts Alecto's claims just as much as they do; she doesn't seem capable of writing even a bloody paragraph on her own.

"Well," says [Y/N]. "We appreciate your.. praise."

Draco almost snorts. It’s uncharacteristic of her to be so formal, and most of all to take the high road when being insulted. He knows that if things were different, if their lives weren't on the line, she wouldn't be standing here at Draco's side—no, her wand would be at Alecto's throat.

But that little bit of humor quickly fades when Draco finds Amycus staring at [Y/N], uncouth eyes roaming from her lips to her exposed collarbones, the skin hiding just underneath the lace of her sleeves, the dress hugging her figure—

Draco feels anger flare up, hot and heavy inside of his chest. Unconsciously, he finds himself stepping forward, urged on by that unpleasant feeling worming its way into his stomach, curling his hands into fists, tinging the tips of his ears red as his fingers edge closer to the wand inside his pocket.

¨What are you looking at, boy?¨ Amycus sneers, meeting his gaze.

Draco thinks, at that moment, that magic would hardly be fit to put this ugly brute of a man in his place—no, he´d much rather use his fists, pummel them into that crooked nose of his until he kneels at [Y/N]’s feet and begs for her forgiveness, because no one should look at her like that—

[Y/N] is whispering something, but he can´t hear it through the blood rushing in his ears.

But all of a sudden, Amycus’s gaze changes. He is no longer looking at Draco; rather, at something over his shoulder, and then he is bowing his head, eyes downcast.

All it takes Draco is a brief glance behind him to realize why.

He hears [Y/N] now: he’s here. He’s here.

An odd hush has fallen over the large room. The cause is easy to pinpoint; the Dark Lord has appeared at the entrance of the large drawing room, bringing with him a familiar sense of foreboding as everyone’s breath seems to hitch. It’s funny, in a sick way, how easily the atmosphere has shifted from something like ease to suffocating tension. How Alecto, who had been cackling into her glass of wine just moments before, now looks like a dog called to heel. How Amycus has torn his hungry gaze away from [Y/N] to instead stare down obediently at his feet. How Draco’s own parents, who stand a few feet away from the Dark Lord at the entrance, have their lips pursed and their hands clasped in front of them in submission.

Draco would laugh, but he is one of them now, and his head is hung just like the rest of them.

¨My, my,¨ says the Dark Lord, tone soft. ¨What a lovely party.¨

It had been he, the Dark Lord, who had suggested the idea of a celebration to revere in Draco´s and [Y/N]´s success. Not out of fondness, of course, but out of sheer spite for the Malfoys, caused by Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. This party was just another part of his little mind games; not only had he forced their son, Draco, to let Death Eaters loose inside Hogwarts, but he was now forcing them to celebrate it.

But why is he here?

It had been he who proposed the party, but no one had expected the Dark Lord to actually come. He had other things of actual importance to attend to: things that involved torture and kidnap and blackmail. He was on the brink of taking over the Ministry of Magic, and thus was a busy man—the Dark Lord only goes where he is needed, and not to pointless parties.

Draco swallows.

So why is he here?

¨It is only right, of course,¨ Voldemort continues, his voice still so oddly soft, like he´s addressing children, ¨That we celebrate the success of our young Death Eaters. The task I gave them was not an easy one, I’m afraid, and yet they prevailed, in the end, and proved themselves to us.¨

He wonders if Voldemort has spotted him and [Y/N], and feels bile rise at the back of his throat. Draco doesn´t want him anywhere near her.

Just leave, Draco thinks to himself, his teeth gritted so tight he hears how they scrape inside his skull. Just leave.

“I must admit, a few months ago I had my doubts.. but now here we are, applauding them, congratulating them for a job well done, treating them as one of our own.. welcoming them.”

“Draco.”

[Y/N] has inched closer to him. A moment later she feels her fingers weaving through his, squeezing his palm so tight Draco knows without having to look that her knuckles have turned a ghostly white.

He squeezes back, thinking that she might just be as surprised as him. Just as nervous.

It’ll be okay, he tries to tell her without saying it out loud. He´s too scared to speak. It’ll be okay.

¨And yet even as we toast to their names..¨

Draco keeps his head down. He can hear the sound of Voldemort´s robes rasping against the floor as he moves about the room.

But that is not the only thing he hears. Cold sweat trickles down the side of his temple, because in the Dark Lord’s voice he hears an edge. He senses danger.

A thought bounces around Draco’s skull as he fixes his gaze intently on his shoes: why is he here?

"Even as we welcome them with open arms.. as we let them walk among us unharmed, revered, almost, for their bravery..¨

¨Draco,¨ [Y/N] repeats, a little louder this time but only for his ears, and if the room wasn´t so quiet he wouldn´t have heard her ragged, almost panicked breathing, but it was and he did. 

He senses uneasy movement from behind him. One of the other Death Eaters.

¨Despite our kindness, one of them dares to turn away from us. One of them dares—¨ The Dark Lord´s voice grows colder, angrier, losing control and then all of a sudden softening again after a pregnant pause; ¨One of them dared.. dares to feed information to the fools that call themselves the Order of the Phoenix.¨

Draco hears the collective murmur of surprise that ripples through the room.

“Draco.” [Y/N]’s grip on his hand, if possible, tightens.

¨One of them dares betray us.¨

There is a brief moment of confusion on Draco´s part. He turns his head to look at [Y/N], brows furrowed as he struggles to make sense of the Dark Lord´s words.

But then Draco meets her eyes. Sees the look on her face.

¨I´m sorry,¨ she whispers, and realization hits him like a burst of icy cold water.

¨Seize her,¨ Voldemort says coldly. When Draco looks up, he sees that he is halfway across the room but his gaze is fixed on them—on [Y/N].

Amycus and Alecto are the first to move. They drop their glasses with no hesitation, sending them to the floor where they break into a hundred tiny pieces, and grab [Y/N] by the arms. She resists, wrestling in their arms, but the string of words that leave her mouth aren´t curses, nor are they pleas to let her go; no, they are apologies, repeated over and over again like a mantra as she desperately holds Draco´s gaze—”I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry.”

He watches as they yank [Y/N] across the floor, towards the Dark Lord, away from him. His lungs have stopped working, his heart is pounding wildly somewhere inside his throat, and [Y/N] is being roughly thrown at the Dark Lord´s feet—

Draco can´t breathe. His mind is buzzing, blanking out to a field of white, noise and heat colliding and melting until he can´t think through the blood rushing in his ears.

“Pity,” the Dark Lord whispers, gripping her chin harshly, jerking it up so that she would look at him. 

“I thought you'd proved yourself to be worthy of my praise, but instead it seems you've proved yourself to be rather the opposite—“

She snaps her head away. “Fuck you.”

“You, my child, have proved yourself to be a fool.”

“You´re never going to win.”

The Dark Lord seems unfazed. A grin splits wide on his face, stretching his lips into an uncannily amused grin as he stares down at the girl at his feet for a few seconds before nodding—and then turning around, twirling his wand in his hands—when had he pulled it out?

“And now, my brothers and sisters.”

Draco doesn’t feel his feet move underneath him, but they do.

“Lo and behold what happens to ungrateful fools who turn us away believing that they are saving the world, when in fact they are ruining themselves.”

Everything happens so quickly that Draco barely has any time to react; Voldemort raises his wand, and it seems to almost shine in the light as he points it directly towards [Y/N]—the Dark Lord´s mouth opens, the spell resting on the tip of his tongue, [Y/N] at the opposite end of his wand—

“No!”

It’s as though something inside of Draco has snapped, like he is being jarred awake. He doesn´t think—just darts forward with no real goal in mind other than to put himself in between Voldemort and [Y/N], but then there are hands grabbing at his arms, holding him back—

“Let go of me!” his tone is feral. He jabs his elbow into someone´s stomach, trying desperately to wrestle himself free, but the more Death Eaters he rips off of him, the more take their place. “[Y/N]!” he is breathless. “[Y/N]—”

The Dark Lord is going to kill her. He´s going to bloody kill her.

“Draco,” he hears his mother´s voice but doesn’t see her—he´s too busy thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever has hold of him, yelling out profanities and curses and [Y/N]´s name; “Draco, come. You don´t want to see this.”

“Let fucking go of me!”

But then the Dark Lord´s voice cuts through the havoc—¨Let him stay.¨

“[Y/N]!” Draco shouts, gritting his teeth. There are tears in his eyes; he doesn´t realize they´re there until they´ve fallen and he tastes them on his tongue. “Don´t touch her! Don´t fucking touch her!”

But the Dark Lord is, once again, unfazed. He turns his gaze to Draco but doesn´t lower his wand. “Watch, my child,” he says, voice ringing throughout the room, cold and unforgiving. “And pay close attention. This is what happens to cowards. To fools. To ungrateful scum.”

[Y/N]´s back is turned to Draco, and maybe it is better that way, because when the Dark Lord raises his wand, he doesn´t have to see the light leave her eyes.

Draco feels the entire world slow down. A single thought appears inside the ruined mess that is his mind, almost as if it’s mocking him—[Y/N] has always been better at masking her true thoughts. At hiding things; even from him. 

We’ll be okay, [Y/N] had told him.

She had lied.

¨Avada Kedavra!¨

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Dream SMP hslau Chapter 4

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ship-f!reader × sapnap

pronouns- she/her

word count- 1.0k

category-fluff, hurt/comfort(?)

warnings- toxic relationship, dnf

a/n- thank you to @8thdimensionalchess for his help :)

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After the game was over, everyone milled around, congratulating your school’s team on their win. You and Sapnap run down to the field. Dream had beaten you there, and he swept George off his feet. You giggle a little at the blush on the brunette's face as his boyfriend lifts him on his shoulders. Chatter surrounds you on the field and in the stands, and as you stand you see the smile on your boyfriend’s face falter. You take his hand, as if to reassure him of your presence. You tilt your head up and whisper in his ear.

“Everything okay?”

And as he turns to you, the look in his eyes answers your question.

You immediately grab his hand and find Dream, still with George on his shoulders, and tell him you and Sapnap are leaving.

“What's wrong?” the blonde asks, upon seeing the looks on your faces.

“Something is bothering him. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Thank you.” he mumbles, once you have made it back to his car.

You rest your arm on his bicep.

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

“I saw her…” he said, his voice going quiet again.

“Steph…?

He nods.

You take his hands in yours.

“What did she do to you?”

“I- it’s not important.”

“It is important, Sap. You’re important.”

‘Okay, fine. You wanna know?” you nod, and he continues.

“I met her a few years ago. I- we started talking. She was like an enigma, but a beautiful one at that. She was very forward. We dated. She was always kinda jealous. She made me block other female friends and exes I was on good terms with, and she tried to get in between me, George, and Dream. But then she left. Dream and George came back, and supported me, but they didn’t like her at all. They had seen the signs before I did. She came back. She apologized, and I took her back. That was the worst mistake. I was a dumbass. And now so many things remind me of her, and the mistakes I made. I can’t even look at her without feeling like I’m going to puke. To this day, she’s still casually flirting with me. “

“You can always ask her to stop, Sap. And you aren’t a dumbass.”

“I would feel bad. And I am a dumbass. I should have seen the signs, seen how she isolated me, seen how my friends saw. “

You smile a little.

“Well you’re my dumbass, Sap. And I’m here for you. I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

He shakes his head a little.

“She said the same thing.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I haven’t lied to you yet, Sap. And I don’t plan on it, okay?”

“Okay.” he says. You sit up in your seat.

“Trade seats Sap. I’m taking us out for lunch. You deserve it.” you say with a smile and a little laugh.

“How about we call Dream and George to meet us there?” he suggests.

“Deal.” you say, opening the door to switch to the driver’s seat.

----------

You pull up to your favorite cafe. Sapnap called Dream a few minutes ago, and they agreed to meet you there. You go inside and sit at one of the tables. Sapnap looks around with a smile.

“Good choice, y/n, it's a cute cafe.”

You smile and point to the front.

“Wanna get food while we wait?”

You both walk up to the front and each order a sandwich and a drink. As you sit back down George and Dream walk in. You wave your friends over to the table.

“Y/n this is so cool!” you hear George say.

“Congratulations on your win, George!” Sapnap cheers with a smile. He looks happier, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

You and Sapnap sit while George and Dream order their food and sit back down. You turn to Sapnap.

“Hey, I have a picture of my homecoming dress on my phone if you want to see the color.” you say, scrolling through your camera roll. You pull up a picture of a stormy blue dress. It has a slight shimmer to it, like sunlight catching the rain.

“Ooooo” you hear George gasp. “It's so pretty!”

“It’ll look better on you.” Sapnap says.

Dream rolls his eyes.

“Okay, Sappy.”

“Hey, you’ve been simping over George for weeks now. Who are you to talk?”

You and George share a look

This is gonna be a while

“I’m a simp? You almost passed out when you saw her in your sweatshirt!”

“Yeah, and you definitely didn’t do the exact same thing”

“Your face falls every time she leaves the room!”

“You liked George for two years and couldn’t get the guts to ask him out.”

Finally, George bursts out laughing.

You join him, and Sapnap and Dream sit and roll their eyes.

George reaches over to Dreams plate to steal a fry, and ends up knocking his water over. The water spills all over both of them. They both pick their arms up and look at the water. You and Sapnap start laughing at the dumbfounded looks on your friends' faces.

“You guys are made for each other.” you say, laughing

“What’s that gotta mean, y/n?”

“Guess you are mornonsexual for real, Clay.” says Sapnap with a smirk.

“For real? What does that mean?” George asks, looking confused again.

Sapnap and Dream share a look.

“We had a running joke a few years ago that Clay was ‘moronsexual’ “

“Well I suppose its true,” you say, “George is indeed a moron.”

Even George started to laugh now.

After you all finished your food, Dream and George head out. Sapnap puts his arms around your waist, drawing you closer to his chest

“Thanks for listening, y/n, I really appreciated it.” He mumbles in your ear.

“Anytime, Sap”

Hand in hand, you walk back out to the car. He drives you home, with a promise to call you later.

——————

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[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 6

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AO3

Jason walks into the hospital room, heart breaking at the sight. Adrien, a huge bandage covering what was left of his arm and part of his shoulder. And next to him… This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be there to make sure the kids didn’t get hurt. Instead, Ladybug- no, Marinette, he reminded himself. She had told him her name through sobs as he held her on the roof after they gave their statements to the police. Marinette blamed herself. He could see it in everything she did, the way she responded to people, her body language around Adrien and Jason. He knew she blamed herself. But she shouldn’t. She wasn’t the one who had been trained to fight villains like that. Villains willing to kill kids to get ahead. But Jason was trained. He was supposed to be prepared and know what to do. But now, Adrien would have to relearn how to do everything with just one arm. Sure, he could get a prosthetic, but that wouldn’t be for several weeks. And even if he chooses to get a prosthetic, he’d have to relearn everything. Again. And it was all because Jason couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save anyone. Jason turns to leave, not ready to talk to the boy who lost an arm because Jason wasn’t fast enough.

“Jay?” A soft voice from the bed calls, making Jason freeze. Whirling around, he rushes over to the bed, immediately looking the boy over to see if he’s okay. 

“Hey kiddo, how ya feeling? Are you- I’m so sorry.” Jason rambles, falling onto the spare chair next to Adrien’s bed. A chair that should’ve held a parent. If Gabriel wasn’t a piece of shit supervillain who cut off his own son’s arm and kept his wife’s corpse in a hidden basement. Yeah, that investigation must’ve sucked. 

“It’s weird.” He says, and Jason frowns at the tears filling the boy’s eyes. “My arm hurts, Jay. Really bad. But every time I try to hold it, or move it to a position that doesn’t hurt- it’s not there.” 

“Oh kid.” Jason clamps his mouth shut, determined to not let the kid hear his voice cracks, determined not to let the kid see him cry. What did he have to cry about? He’s the one that wasn’t good enough to protect these kids. Jason leans forward and gently wraps his arms around Adrien, letting the boy sob into his shoulder. Holding onto a sobbing Adrien, Jason’s able to see Marinette wake up and instantly leap into a fighting position. When she notices him, she relaxes slightly, until she sees the crying boy. Then her face morphs into pain and she backs up away from the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mari?” Adrien says, pulling away from Jason and sniffling. 

“I’m so sorry Adrien. It’s, it’s all my fault.” She says, still keeping her distance. Jason sighs and stands, moving across the room in two large strides and wrapping her into a hug. She stiffens for a moment before basically collapsing in his arms. Jason just holds her and lets her cry, just as he let her on the roof two nights ago. After years of not being able to feel anything other than happy, Jason would support these kids and encourage them to feel. Even if it hurt. They deserved to feel. 

---

Sitting and talking to Adrien about anything and everything after school had become a daily occurrence for Marinette. Jason walking her from school to the hospital had also become a daily occurrence. So walking by herself was weird. Doable, because she was Ladybug and could walk across Paris alone, but still weird. Especially since Jason was so insistent on her being more careful now that Hawkmoth- Gabriel- was behind bars. Jay was convinced that that meant that the regular, run of the mill bad guys would come back out of the woodwork now that they didn’t have to deal with possible akumas. Regardless, that hadn’t happened yet and she could easily walk by herself. It was still weird though. Walking into the hospital, Marinette frowns at Jason who was pacing and rapidly arguing with someone on the phone in English. Quickly reminding herself that, no he wouldn’t be akumatized, and yes, he was allowed to have negative feelings, she moves so that she’s in his line of sight. Making eye contact with him, she raises an eyebrow as a silent question. He frowns, but doesn’t do anything else except nod towards Adrien’s room. Rolling her eyes in annoyance at his avoidance, Marinette lets herself into Adrien’s room, smiling softly at her friend. The first two days after the battle, she could barely look at him. She blamed herself completely and didn’t feel like she was worthy of being his friend anymore. Now, almost a week after the battle, she still blamed herself. But it was easier to look at him, easier to talk to him.  

“Hey kitty.” She says, walking over and sitting in the chair on the left side of his bed. 

“Hey bug. Jay still on the phone?” He asks, and that’s when she notices the tell-tale signs of worry on his face. 

“Yeah...how long has he been on the phone?” She asks, frowning at his wince. 

“Well, he tried to ignore the person the first three times they called. And then he finally answered, said ‘leave me alone’ and hung up. And then they called again, and that’s when the yelling and arguing started and he left the room. That was…” He trails off, looking towards the clock on the wall. “Almost two hours ago.” “Two hours? On the phone? You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you? I mean, I know he has a life back where he lives, and I’m sure his boss is probably getting frustrated with him. But-” Marinette stops herself, not wanting to say something selfish. She knew that Jason had a life outside of Paris. But he was the only grown up to care that Ladybug and Chat Noir were just kids, that they needed help. He was the one to make sure they weren’t spending too much time being heroes and not enough time sleeping and doing homework. He was their big brother, and she wasn’t ready to say bye yet. Even if they could still call him. It wasn’t the same.

---

Jason Todd was livid, and for the millionth time that week, thankful that Gabriel Agreste was rotting in a prison cell instead of manipulating people who were having a bad day. Cause this was not a good day. 

“B, I’m not sure what you want from me.” He finally huffs out, glancing towards Adrien’s shut door. 

“I just want to know why you haven’t returned. Dick informed me of the flooding your first day, and how things seemed to magically fix themselves. You told us that everything was taken care of, and then you stopped answering any questions about the situation. Seeing as there is apparently no immediate danger to anyone there, I think it’s time you returned home. You have responsibilities here, Jason. Your family is here.” Bruce says simply, and Jason has to bite his tongue from arguing. How was he supposed to tell Bruce about these kids who needed support that they weren’t getting anywhere else. That there were two young superheroes in Paris who needed someone to understand what they were going through, since they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell anyone else? Bruce would have adoption papers written up in minutes, and taking the two from their city didn’t seem right. Plus he would never let Bruce adopt them, the kids had enough emotional baggage to deal with without being a Wayne. 

“I just haven’t, Bruce. I’m a grown man. I-” “You have responsibilities, Jason. I let you take this vacation because I could see you needed it. But now we need you. I- your brothers miss you.” Bruce says, and Jason rolls his eyes at the man’s inability to be emotional. He would’ve done great in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

“Okay, I’ll start looking for a ticket. I should be home in two or three weeks-”

“I’ve already ordered a ticket for you. Your flight leaves Paris at noon tomorrow. See you then.” Bruce says, hanging up before Jason has the chance to argue more. Not that he had the energy after going back and forth between arguing with Dick and Bruce for two goddamned hours. Resisting the urge to throw his phone against the wall, Jason takes a couple deep breaths to ground himself. No need to upset Mari and Adrien and if he goes in there pissed off, they’re gonna get upset. Shaking his head to try and clear it, Jason throws open Adrien’s door, grinning at the two, sitting side by side on Adrien’s bed. 

“Pixie Pop, you’re gonna piss off the nurse if she sees you up there again.” He says, walking over to his usual chair. 

“You’re upset.” She says, instead of arguing and reminding him that she can take anything the nurses can dish out (they’d had the exact conversation yesterday….and the day before.) Jason blinks, acting confused. 

“Don’t even try and act like you’re not Jay. Mari’s scary good at reading people.” Adrien says with a frown. Jason huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m pissed.” He admits, slumping back in his chair and crossing his arms. Marinette turns to Adrien and whispers something to him, Adrien nodding before she turns back to look at him. 

“You’re gonna need our phone numbers.” She says, and Jason frowns in actual confusion this time. 

“Gonna need a little more than that, Pix.” He says. 

“Well, we knew that you’re not from here. And that eventually you’d have to go back. I mean, I’m sure your boss wasn’t planning on you taking a vacation quite this long. But-” Marinette pauses and lets out a shaky breath. “But neither of us want to lose you. You care about both sides of us, and you’re the only one. You’re our big brother, Jay, but we both know that you have another life somewhere else. And I’m sure those people miss you too. I mean, you’re kinda cool or whatever.” Marinette teases, but he can tell behind the smirk that she’s close to tears. Jason sighs and stands, bringing both of them into a big hug. 

“I don’t wanna leave, ya know.” He mumbles, frowning when he feels his shirt getting wet from tears. 

“I know. But you have to. And that’s okay. It’s not goodbye forever.” Marinette says, her voice breaking as she holds onto him tighter. 

“Expect a lot of calls and face times. Especially once I get my arm. I have so many jokes to make, you’re gonna be sick of it.” Adrien says, and despite the joke, Jason can tell the boy is crying too. Jason squeezes a little tighter, accepting the fact that he’d be leaving. And that he wasn’t sure when he’d see the two again.

Next

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat 

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #platonic maribat adrienette #maribat platonic adrienette #fanfic #ao3fic #platonic jasonette #This Side of Normal #maribat big brother Jason Todd #maribat bruce wayne #maribat fic

[sunlightdances]

Lost in Time | Dean x OFC | Prologue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Summary: Sam and Dean answer Jody’s call about a ghost wandering in the woods, calling for help, wearing period clothing. Thinking they’re taking a break from the end of the world and handling a run of the mill haunting, they hit the road, unaware their world is about to be turned upside down. Genre: Time travel AU, WW2, Romance, Angst Warnings: None for this part. Masterlist

Prologue

“... yeah, we can take a trip and see what’s going on. I’ll do some research. Sure, bye.”

Dean listens in as Sam finishes up a phone call, his cell pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he types on his laptop.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “A hunt? I thought we were taking some time off.”

Sam nods. “It’s Jody. A haunting. She thought we could look into it since she knows you’re incapable of actually taking time off.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“It’s weird - Jody says there’s been a huge uptick of stories in Virginia of a woman who haunts this stretch of woods, here.” He points at a spot on Google Maps on his laptop screen. “She wears period clothes, calls out for help, the usual.”

“So?” Dean shrugs. “Look, we can’t help every lost soul. Why us? Isn’t there someone local who can figure out what’s going on?”

Sam gets that look on his face. “Get this - the other day someone else saw her. But this time, she saw them. Like -- made eye contact, and spoke to them.”

“Still not that weird. An intelligent spirit.”

“She came closer, and grabbed their arm. The guy said it felt real. He thought she was a real person. By the time he got his phone to call the cops, she took off.”

Dean sits a little straighter. “She didn’t disappear? She ran away?”

Sam nods. “Appears so.”

Dean frowns. “So, this ghost. She’s been there for years. And only now she’s interacting with people?”

Sam nods. “And that’s not all. Before, it was the usual lost soul stuff. Asking for help, walking the same path. But now, she’s been seen in different areas, even walking along the sidewalk in some places. And she’s spoken to people, and says different things every time. Not like a record on repeat.”

Dean scratches at his beard. “Okay, that’s weird.” He stretches, sighing. “Virginia’s nice this time of year.”

Sam grins.

.

Two days later, the Impala slows to a stop alongside the highway.

In the trunk, he and Sam grab flashlights, their guns, and some salt. Dean doesn’t think they’re dealing with an aggressive spirit, but it never hurts to be prepared. The last time he made assumptions, he almost got his eyes clawed out by the ghost of a teenage girl.

“Let’s go,” Sam says quietly, and they head into the woods, gravel crunching lightly underfoot.

It’s quiet.

Dean feels the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand up, and he slows his steps, looking to his brother. He feels like someone’s watching him, and no sooner has he digested that thought, then he hears the click of a gun being cocked.

He freezes, his jaw clenching.

“Don’t move.”

The voice is female, softer than he expects for someone who has a weapon pointed at him.

“Woah, woah, woah--”

“I said don’t move.”

“Not moving.” Sam says. “We don’t have any money.”

“I don’t want your money,” she snaps. “I want your name, rank, and serial number.”

Dean falters. “Excuse me?” He asks, trying to turn around.

“Don’t move!”

“Alright, alright. Look, we don’t have rank or a serial number.” He tries to see her out of the corner of his eye. Her hands are shaking, just slightly. “I can tell you our names.” When she doesn’t say anything, he continues. “I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam. We’re here to- to help someone.”

“Put the gun down.” Sam says. “We’re unarmed.”

“No one’s ever unarmed.” She says, almost laughing. “Turn around.”

They turn slowly, and Dean sucks in a breath when he sees her. Dark hair, pulled tight into a twist. She’s got an olive drab colored button-down shirt tucked into high-waisted trousers, and a sidearm, pointing right at his forehead. Her grip is steady, but she twitches when she meets his eyes.

“American?” She asks, and Dean’s brow furrows.

“What else would we be?”

She glares. “You’re in civilian clothing. You didn’t identify yourself.”

Sam and Dean share a look before Sam speaks. “Miss… we’re out here trying to help someone. We’re not looking for any trouble. In fact, I’m starting to think we’re looking for you.”

“What?”

Dean takes a step forward, his hands out in a placating gesture. “What’s your name?”

Something flashes in her eyes. “Eva.”

“Eva. We can help you, but you have to tell us what you’re doing here.”

“What do you mean-- are you stupid?” She asks, and Dean’s jaw drops. He shares another look with Sam. “What else would I be doing here?”

Sam also takes a step forward. “Eva… where do you think you are right now?”

She shakes her head, just slightly. “France. I-- I got separated and I must have… hit my head, I guess. I-- I have to find my way back, but no one will help me. No one responds to the code words, and I--”

“Wait. Wait. Eva--” Dean starts, holding up his hand. “Eva, this is Virginia. United States.”

She stares at him. “Is this a joke?”

“No, Eva. It’s not.”

“We don’t have time for this! I have to get back to my unit. The op is in two days--”

The air whooshes out of Dean’s lungs as he reads the desperation on her face. This isn’t a ghost. She’s real, just as real as him and Sam.

“Just… wait here. I need to talk to my brother for a second.” Dean says, pulling Sam by the elbow a few feet away.

“Is she--”

“A box of fruit loops? Probably.” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Look, we can get her to a hospital. But if we miss the window on that spirit appearing--”

“Did you not hear what I said to her?” Sam interrupts impatiently. “I think she’s the ghost.”

Dean shakes his head. “She-- look. That’s not possible. She’s not exactly made of vapors or whatever.”

Sam sighs. “Jody said the spirit wore period clothes. Asked people for help. Appeared real, but took off so fast people thought she was a ghost.”

Dean puts his hands on his hips. “You think it’s her. That still doesn’t tell us what to do from here. This is out of our wheelhouse, dude. We don’t do memory loss.”

“She thinks she’s in France.”

“Like I said. Cuckoo for cocoa puffs.”

“What if she’s not crazy?”

“Can you two stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here?” Eva hisses, and Sam and Dean turn to look at her, Dean dismayed when he sees tears on her cheeks. “No one will help me. I don’t know how I got here. Look - you’re American, and I hope I’m not being compromised, but I think I was made, and I have to find my unit. Please, just--”

“Eva, slow down.” Sam says quietly. “Eva, it’s-- today is June 4th.”

“I know that.”

“June 4th, 2021.”

All the color drains from her face. Dean speaks, softly. “It’s 2021.”

“That’s impossible.” She whispers.

Dean sighs. “Yeah. We hear that a lot.”

.

A/N: What do you think? I’m excited about this one and would love to hear your thoughts! Please note: I am not doing a tag list for this story - so sorry, but it just takes so much time and effort. If you want to read more, please turn on notifications for my blog! 

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Chapter One

#lost in time #dean x ofc #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #spn reader insert