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candycandy00 · 3 months

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The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Bondage. Clamps. Electric shocks. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

You’ve been numb for three years, but right now, your body is alive with sensation. This always happens when you’re having a training session with Sukuna, and after a week of being in his “care”, you’re still not quite used to it. You don’t know why you can feel the things he does to you in these moments, or why you return to being numb once the sessions end, but right this second, you only want to enjoy feeling it.

Chains coil around your body as you sway slightly, suspended from the ceiling. Your arms are behind your back, sore and bruised. Your feet are curled up behind you, almost touching your hands, your thighs held far apart by a bar at your knees. You don’t have a stitch of clothing anywhere on you, but you’re “covered” in an entirely different way.

Fierce, heavy metal clamps hang from your nipples and your clit, biting into your most sensitive places. The chains dig into your skin, leaving purple and black stripes where they wrap around you. And you’re covered head to toe in Sukuna’s cum.

He’s fucked every hole you have numerous times today, always pulling out and shooting his seed onto your body, letting it slide and drip down your flesh until it has completely coated you. You can feel it in your hair, all over your face, in your mouth, pouring over the painful clamps. A few times he’s left the room, left you hanging naked and filthy and bruised in the dark, letting his cum dry and cake on your skin, only to come back and give you a fresh coat.

Several times, he removed the clamp from your clit, rubbed and pinched the aching bud mercilessly until you came, then put the clamp right back on while you were still trembling from your orgasm.

Presently, he’s fucking your mouth again, holding your head steady by your hair, his enormous cock slamming into your throat. Your face is covered in various fluids - his cum, your tears, and your saliva. You’ve never been such a mess before in your life.

You have both a safe word and a safe hand gesture you can use if you need to. But you can’t imagine ever using them. All these sensations wracking your body make you feel so very alive. You can’t get enough of it.

There’s a big difference between the pain you experienced at the hands of your previous owner, and what Sukuna is doing to you now. There’s an artistry to the way Sukuna alternates between giving you pleasure and giving you pain. You’ve already had more orgasms in this one week than you’ve had in your entire life before coming here. And unlike before, you have some measure of control. You can stop this at any time, even switch trainers if you wish.

You wouldn’t think of it. You’re already addicted to these feelings.

Sukuna’s grip on your hair tightens as he shoves his cock as far in as possible, choking you as he cums down your throat. You swallow it as fast as you can. You’re parched and you want every drop.

When he pulls out, he tucks himself back into his pants and begins removing all three clamps from your body. They somehow hurt worse coming off than going on. You wince and whimper as his fingers rub the places where the clamps were, the numbness slowly beginning to spread through you again. He unchains you, his strong arms holding you up, not letting your feet touch the floor.

He carries you to the bathroom, where a hot, steaming bath is waiting for you. He eases you down into the water, then hands you a loofa as well as some shampoo and soap. “Can you do it yourself?” he asks.

“Yeah, I can,” you answer, reaching for the shampoo. You’re tired, but the soreness you felt earlier is completely gone.

He nods and steps out of the room.

********************

Sukuna is cleaning up after the latest training session in his room, putting away various items and setting some aside to be washed. He prides himself in keeping everything neat and clean, even though he thoroughly enjoys making messes.

His idea for today worked perfectly. If his doll could only feel during a training session, then why not just have the training session last all day? So he kept her in that “training” mindset, kept her chained up since this morning. No previous doll he’s trained could withstand this, could last so long and take so much punishment. But this one can. Is it because she’s so starved for sensation?

Back in the bathroom, the doll is now standing in the shower, rinsing off. Her body still intrigues him, both because of her unusual condition and because of those scars.

“How did he make those?” Sukuna asks her, pointing to the most prominent scarring pattern that stretches from her face down to her hip.

She’s not the least bit shy about being nude in front of him, and he finds that refreshing. She casually glances down at her side and says, “He made me strip and then poured boiling water over me. Well, over the left side of me.”

“That must have been agonizing,” Sukuna says, his eyes shining.

“Not really. It was one of the last things he did before I was removed. I was already numb by then.”

“Do you know why he did it?”

She lowers her eyes as she reaches for a towel to dry off on. “I accidentally spilled wine on his shirt while pouring a glass for him.”

Sukuna can’t help laughing at how pointless the cruelty was. The doll looks at him curiously, but doesn’t say anything. If she’s offended by his laughter, she doesn’t show it.

“What about those?” he asks, pointing to a series of scarred lines across her abdomen.

“Oh, these? It’s hard to tell since half of them blended in with the burn scars, but he carved words into me.”

Looking closely, Sukuna can see letters. He can make out the first few of two different words: “whore” and “cunt”.

Sukuna chuckles. “He wasn’t very creative, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t,” she says. The corners of her lips move up slightly. Did she almost smile? She finishes drying and drops the towel into the nearby hamper, then pulls on one of his older shirts that he laid out for her before heading out of the bathroom.

She had no luggage, no belongings, when she was brought in. She’s been wearing his shirts when she’s not naked, which Sukuna doesn’t really mind. There’s something appealing about the way his clothes look hanging off her body, the fabric rubbing over her otherwise bare skin. But she needs some of her own clothes.

“What do you like to wear?” he asks her as she sits down on his bed. “I’ll pick up some clothes for you.”

She looks mildly surprised by the offer. “Oh, um… just jeans and tshirts mostly.”

Boring choices, but he supposes someone with her background had no need for anything formal. Maybe he’ll pick up something a little more sexy while he’s at it. “I’ll go out tomorrow. Do you need anything else?”

“No, nothing I can think of,” she says, her voice small and quiet as usual. Then she looks at him as she adds, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t think it’s anything worth thanking him for. He’s bought clothes for the dolls he’s trained in the past, usually because he ruined the clothes they brought with them or they simply were not dressing to his standards. But her little expression of gratitude seemed so sincere, so strangely heartfelt for someone who could barely feel emotions anymore.

“I take it your previous owner didn’t buy you many gifts,” he says.

She shakes her head. “He only ever took from me. I had one possession that I cared about, a silver locket my mom gave me before she died, and he tore it off my neck the first day I was there.”

Her stories do not pull at Sukuna’s heartstrings. He’s not even sure he has any of those. But he does find them interesting. In fact, he finds every part of her interesting, which is far more than he could say for any of his previous dolls. It’s a strange feeling to him, actually wanting to know more about someone.

After having some tea and some warm food, she curls up in the bed and falls asleep almost instantly, no doubt exhausted.

****************

The next morning, you wake up to find yourself alone in the room. You climb out of bed and stretch, even though you don’t feel stiff or sore. It’s just a habit, some phantom muscle memory.

Strangely, you can still feel hungry or thirsty, even if you can’t feel a stomach ache or a dry throat. You’re aware that your condition is related to mental blocks you’ve subconsciously placed on yourself, but you don’t really understand how they work.

Right now, you want some breakfast, so you open the door and head out into the hallway. You’ve never been outside the room since the day you arrived, but Sukuna told you there’s a kitchen and a dining hall further down the hall. He always brings back food for you, but he’s never told you not to go yourself. So you walk until you reach what must be the dining hall.

It’s empty, probably too early for anyone else to be there. There are several tables with chairs set up around the room, along with a very long table on one side. There’s no food there, but there are stacks of plates, utensils, napkins, and other such items. You can smell food cooking somewhere, perhaps through the door behind the long table.

Beyond the dining hall, you find a small kitchen that you assume is there for the trainers and dolls to use, separate from whatever kitchen prepares the main meals. It has the basics: a stove/oven, microwave, coffee maker, toaster, refrigerator, sink, and a few cabinets. You open the fridge to check out the contents and find a mesh bag full of small oranges. Is it okay for you to take one? Do they belong to a specific trainer, or everyone? Shrugging to yourself, you reach in and take one from the bag. Just as you close the fridge door, two men walk into the kitchen.

One of them is very tall, with messy white hair and dark round sunglasses. The other has long, silky black hair. They were talking as they walked in, but when they spot you, their voices trail off. Both of them stare at you silently for a moment, then the one with long hair says, “Oh, hello. Who might you be?”

You’re standing there in the unfamiliar kitchen, holding a possibly stolen orange, wearing nothing but one of Sukuna’s shirts (which thankfully covers enough of you to be decent). “I’m a doll. I’m being trained by Sukuna.”

The two of them glance at each other, then the one with white hair removes his sunglasses and looks you up and down, obviously taking in your various scars. His expression changes from surprise to horror.

“Oh my God, you poor thing! What has he done to you?! Do you need us to hide you? Blink if you need help!”

“Satoru,” the long haired man says, “you’re being rude. Those scars are clearly old. Sukuna didn’t make them.”

The white haired man looks more closely at you, then exhales in relief. “Sorry, I just assumed the worst and… wait, did you just blink?”

“Uh, I tried not to,” you say. “I don’t need any help though. I’m fine. Thanks for offering.”

The long haired man gives you a pleasant smile. “You’ll have to forgive us. We don’t normally see Sukuna’s dolls unless we catch a glimpse of them as they’re arriving or leaving.”

“Really? He never told me not to leave the room, so I figured it was okay. I got hungry. Do you know if it’s okay to take an orange?”

The long haired man looks at the orange in your hand. “It’s fine. There’s plenty left.”

The white haired man is looking at you somewhat suspiciously. “Are you sure you don’t need help? I mean we all hear the screaming.”

“I’m sure,” you tell him, forcing a smile. “It’s the good kind of screaming.”

“Okay, but now you’ve got me real curious,” he says. “What is he doing to-“

“Hey, stop harassing my doll,” a voice says from the doorway. All three of you look over to see Sukuna standing just inside the kitchen.

The other two men look slightly uncomfortable. The one with long hair smiles again, though it seems like a fake smile. “Hey, Sukuna. You’re out early today.”

Sukuna grins. “I had to go buy her some clothes. Unlike you freaks, I like for my dolls to dress normally from time to time.”

Before the other two can respond, Sukuna takes your hand and leads you back to his room. After he shuts the door behind you, he notices the orange in your hand. “Got hungry?”

You begin peeling it with your fingers. “Yeah. Was it okay for me to go to the kitchen?”

“You can go wherever you want in this house, aside from the other trainers’ rooms. Why?”

“Those two guys acted like you never let your dolls out.”

Sukuna scoffs. “They’re all morons. My dolls leave my room all the time. They just never go to the dining hall during regular meal times. By choice. Have I ever told you not to go?”

You shake your head, chewing a bite of the fruit. “No.”

“Then whether you stay in here or go out there is up to you.”

After finishing the orange, you look through the shopping bags sitting on the bed. There are several pairs of jeans, in various colors, and more tshirts than you’ve ever seen in one place. They all look expensive, and they’re all in your size.

Digging deeper into the bags, you find underwear, socks, three different pajama sets, and finally, a dress. It’s short, black, and silky, with no straps. It’s beautiful, but you can’t imagine a reason for you to ever wear such a thing.

“All this for me?” you ask, holding one of the shirts up to your body.

“You’re going to be here another five weeks. Might as well have something to wear,” he replies.

You feel something then, a fluttering in your chest, a bubbling of some emotion. Is this happiness? You’re not sure, but you like it.

**************

Later in the day, Sukuna begins another training session. The doll is strung up from the ceiling, in a harness. Her arms are tied above her head, her knees up near her chest, leaving her spread eagle, naked, totally at his mercy. Just the way he likes his dolls.

He loves watching her numb body come alive, the way she goes from having no reaction whatsoever to moaning, quivering and trembling beneath his touch. When her nerves are awake, she feels everything so acutely. She becomes far more sensitive than even she realizes.

Sukuna always starts with pleasure. It’s the best way to get her nerves working and get her in the right mindset. So his fingers are delicately stroking her wet clit, being oh so gentle. She’s shaking in the harness, gasping out short little moans as she cums.

Immediately after, Sukuna pulls out a device he very much enjoys using on dolls, at least the ones who are into pain. It looks like a square metal box, with various thin cables connected to it. At the ends of the cables are small clips, which he attaches to her nipples and clit. She looks at him silently, a glint of excitement in her eyes. Whatever he’s going to make her feel, she’s looking forward to it.

The device sends currents of powerful electricity through the cables. Apparently some places in the world use it as an actual torture device. Online, someone described it as feeling as if you’re being snapped with a thousand rubber bands all at once. And that’s on the low setting. Sukuna has never turned it higher than that before, but he believes this doll can take more. So he sets the device to medium power and pushes the button to turn it on.

The doll’s body jerks as if she’s been punched in the gut, her eyes wide, her hands clenching air above her head, her mouth open as shaky screams leave her. She twists in the harness, the motions making for a truly erotic sight, all of her scarred beauty on lewd display.

He lets the currents assault her sensitive flesh for a good ten minutes before turning it off. She’s left twitching all over, her breaths catching in her throat, tears freely pouring down her face. He can’t hold back anymore. He quickly opens his pants as closes the distance between them. Before she seems to realize what’s happening, his cock is already buried inside her. She moans as he thrusts into her, hard and deep, hitting her sweet spots.

He watches her face, notices the way the tears make wavy trails over her scars, and he can’t resist licking them. After running his tongue over the marred skin, he looks at her again, and there’s an expression on her face that he’s never seen her wear before. Is she… blushing? She turns her face away from him, as if embarrassed. But this strangely emotional reaction from her is simply too delicious to ignore.

Sukuna grabs her face with one hand and turns it back to him, then parts her lips with his thumb. He kisses her, sticking his tongue into her mouth, muffling her moans as he continues fucking her. It’s more intimate than he usually gets with his dolls, but he can’t resist drawing more emotions from her. He doesn’t break the kiss until after they both cum, him pumping her full of his seed and then quickly pulling out, letting it drip from her pussy and make a mess on the floor.

She’s panting and shuddering, unable to do anything else while tied up in the harness. While she’s still in this state, raw both physically and emotionally, Sukuna steps back over to the device, sets it to high, and pushes the button.

The screams alone are enough to get him hard again.

Hours later, after baths, cleanup, dinner, and trying on new pajamas, the two of them are lying in bed. She’s on her side, facing away from him. Perhaps she’s already asleep, but he’s noticed her being oddly shy this evening. Out of curiosity, to see if she reacts, he reaches over and runs one hand down her unscarred arm. She seems to shiver, and rolls over to look at him.

“I… I felt that,” she says, wide eyed. Her feeling has never lasted this long after a session has ended. She sits up in bed. “It’s weird, I can’t feel the fabric of the sheets. All I can feel is…”

Sukuna grins. “My touch.”

Again, there’s that look on her face, as if she’s embarrassed. He finds it cute. He pulls her back down, then closer to his body, wrapping his arms around her. She gasps at the sensations, but then sighs as she curls up against him.

Sukuna feels some unfamiliar emotion when he looks at her, when he listens to her quiet breathing, when he feels the warmth of her body. He doesn’t know what it is, and he’s not sure he likes it, but it’s there all the same. So he drifts off to sleep, planning the next training session.

Tag List:

@akaotv @khaleesihavilliard @issracollen @maflorex @dabislittlemouse

#sukuna x reader #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna x reader

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janeyseymour · 1 month

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La Cosa Nostra- pt 3

Cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2.

Summary: You're interrogated... meanwhile, Melissa worries and heads to the one place that she can usually find comfort.

WC: ~2.85k

You step into the dark and solemn offices that you’re sure you’ll be stuck in for hours on end, and you sigh when you see the two agents from the night before.

“Glad to see you decided to show up,” Danik says coldly. “Almost out of time too.”

“I have two minutes to spare,” you reply cheekily. “And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take those two minutes to call my mother-in-law to arrange to pick up my daughters from school today. Since I couldn’t be home last night, my wife had to stay home with the girls instead of prep for her restaurant, and I promised her I’d get coverage for pickup duty.”

“Go with her,” Danik instructs Shaw. The agent follows you down the hall as you dial your wife’s mother.

“Y/N?” the older woman picks up.

“Hey Ma,” you sigh into the phone, speaking English instead of Italian like you usually would. If you had gone into your mother-in-law’s native tongue, that would only look more suspicious to the FBI. “Listen, I have a favor to ask of you... I need you to pick up the girls from school today.”

You silently pray that she responds to your English in English, and for once she does. “I always love an excuse to see my grandbabies, but why can’t you or Lissa?”

“I have some things to take care of with the salon while Mel is handling her restaurant today,” you explain vaguely. “Please, Ma.”

“Okay, okay,” your mother in law chuckles into the phone. “God, you two are such workaholics.”

“It’s all for our girls,” you laugh softly as you think of them. “It’s all for the girls.”

“What time are they done with school again?”

“3:15, but the lines start to get long and the girls don’t like to wait, so Mel and I usually try to get there around 2:50,” you explain.

“2:50, got it,” Melissa’s mother notes softly. “Okay. Take care of yourself, Y/N. I don’t need you overworking yourself to the point of a heart attack and leaving my daughter to take care of those two rascals on her own.”

It’s funny that she says that, because if you die in the near future, it most certainly won’t be because of a heart attack. You let out a laugh that only you know the meaning of. “I’ll do my best, Ma. Thank you.”

“Anything for the four of you,” the woman on the other end of the phone smiles into the phone before hanging up.

You look at the agent who was listening to your phone call. “Was it really necessary that you be here for that?”

“We have every right to be tracing you right now, Mrs. Schemmenti,” Shaw states. Then he lowers his voice. “But I also found it a bit overkill for me to follow you.”

He leads you back down to where you had entered, and then he and Danik lead you and Sammy into the back room.

Try as Melissa might, she’s allowing her worry for you to consume her at work. She’s made a few mistakes in terms of scheduling already today that thankfully her manager on duty caught before the final schedule went out to her employees, her stock inventory was almost entirely all wrong, she almost didn’t balance the checkbook correctly (and that would have only made your family look all the more suspicious), and she nicked her fingers while dicing various vegetables.

“Boss?” Valentina, the manager on duty asks quietly as the redhead curses in Italian under her breath. “If you don’t mind my asking, is everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” your wife replies rather snippily. “Just peachy.”

“If you need to take the day off to regroup,” the meek and mild woman tries to offer. “You know the restaurant is okay in my hands. I handled it all last night, and I can do it again today if you need it.”

“And why would you suggest that?” Green eyes glare into brown ones.

Valentina twists her fingers together nervously. “You just don’t seem to be here mentally today, and I totally understand.”

“You could never,” Melissa grumbles.

“I have off days too, and it’s okay to admit that you need the day,” the sweet woman says. And when she knows that her boss will retort something about being the owner, she quickly adds on, “even if you are the owner of this restaurant.”

Melissa blows out a breath as she expertly wraps the fingers that she had almost sliced off (and thank God she hadn’t. Not only would it be terrible to have to call you and explain that she was in the ER and she would be out of commission for a bit, it would look like someone was targeting her and had her fingers cut off).

“You could have a day to yourself to relax without those little cuties of yours climbing all over you, I know your wife is working at the salon right now... just a nice relaxing day to laze on the couch and do nothing.”

Melissa toys with the idea of leaving the restaurant for the day- she knows Valentina could handle it, and she did handle it last night. She knows too though that the picture perfect afternoon Valentina is painting isn’t at all the one she would have. As nice as it is to imagine returning to your home, and curling up on the couch- maybe with that book she’s been meaning to read; it wouldn’t happen.

She sighs, slowly nodding. “A’right, a’right. You talked me into it, Val.” She mutters, stepping past the other woman. “But you need anythin’, even somethin’ small, you call me, hey?”

Melissa waits until Valentina has confirmed thoroughly that she’ll call at even the smallest inconvenience before she leaves out the back of the restaurant. Her eyes take a last sweep over everything in the kitchen and storeroom before she fully leaves. She won’t be able to have the relaxing day Valentina convinced her of, but she has more important business she can take care of instead.

She makes the short drive from her restaurant, pulling the car you share into a different parking lot. She puts it into park, taking a deep breath. She hopes Sammy is at least doing his job and protecting you. If he isn’t, she’s going to make sure he learns. She doesn’t care how high up in the family he is. Shaking the thought of Sammy, or you, as much as she can, Melissa steps out of the car and locks it as she makes her way across the asphalt.

She carefully ascends the few concrete steps outside, tugging the glass door open to step into the small atrium. She steps up another short set of stairs before she tugs the heavier wooden door open. The previously muffled sound of the church organ plays fully in the air once the door is open, the scent of incense filling her nose. Melissa steps into the back of the church, her late entrance to this morning’s service lost beneath the noise of music and parishioner’s singing.

She dips her fingers into the font of holy water affixed to the wall. Her hand makes the sign of the cross over her upper half as she, mostly, genuflects at the side of the last pew. Melissa slips into the seat at the aisle, patiently waiting as the hymn plays out. After another few moments, the organ’s music lowers and slows as the singing ceases. The audience of the mass takes their seats once more.

“Mornin’, Babs.” She greets softly the woman that reclaims the seat next to her. The priest is summarizing the mass’ lesson for today and giving one last prayer up at the pulpit.

“Good morning, Melissa.” Barbara returns amicably, though she doesn’t hide her surprise at seeing the redhead. “I can’t recall when you last attended a Thursday service. Even just at the end of it.”

The redhead looks sheepish at being caught out at being present only for the end of this mass; that and the fact she certainly doesn’t attend as often as Barbara does. “Well.” Melissa sighs. “Sometimes a little extra prayer is needed, huh?”

“Is everything alright, dear? With Y/N? The girls?” Barbara questions, glancing at her friend worriedly.

“As much as it can be.” Melissa hedges. “More, huhm, business problems, guess you could say.” She confides quietly as the final procession begins. The priest and the altar servants making their way down the main aisle beneath another hymn.

Normally, Barbara would be back on her feet. Participating in the procession and singing the closing hymn loud and proud. Melissa and her had had plenty of conversations like this. Paused between hymns and pieces of the Mass. Today, Barb stays sitting. She sees the worry on the redhead’s face.

“I hope not with the restaurant.” She says as her hand gently grips one of Melissa’s. “I know how much that place means to you. I think you were happier the day you opened than when you married Y/N.” Barbara teases with a half smile, attempting to lighten the mood.

Melissa shakes her head, returning the squeeze of Barbara’s hand and smiling just a little at her tease. “No, the only day I might have been happier than my weddin’ day was the day my two babies were born without complication, an’ you know it. But uh, it’s the salon. I know it’s sort of…our second thing, yeah? I know it wasn’t a dream of Y/N’s like the restaurant is for me but it still means a lot, y’know? Without the salon we would've never met, had the twins…The restaurant would have never happened without it. I just…I dunno, Barb. I don’t know what to do. Y/N is in trouble and…my hands are tied. I hate it.”

Barb pulls Melissa’s hand to her lap, gripping it between both of her own now. She holds it there for a long silent moment. Melissa doesn’t question, having experienced this before. The last time had been when you were pregnant and she was worried something would go wrong with how at risk you were. Barb had held her hand and prayed. For Melissa and you both. She does the same now. The day that she had prayed for you and your unborn babies was over five years ago now, but it all feels so familiar- the sneaking into a Thursday mass late into the service, the back pew, the soft tone that the other woman had used. It takes her back to that day just briefly before she too closes her eyes and prays; she prays for your safety and for you to come home to her tonight alive and in one piece, for your girls to never have their innocence ripped from them and never have to become a part of the side hustle to stay alive.

Melissa isn’t sure how much or what exactly she believes in anymore. Of course she was raised religious. She’d never speak the doubts she has anywhere where her mother or nonna could hear. Still, with the life she’s found herself in, it’s hard to find much faith. She might not be a man on the streets, a member of the family with more…messy assignments. Even so, she’s seen plenty. Just like she knows you have. Faith is hard to be strong in when you’ve witnessed the darkest parts of the world.

When you’re in the life; you’re in. Melissa doesn’t need to be a contract killer or a capo or consigliere. She’s family. When you’re family, you’re privy to every side of it and just like blood family; you pick your battles. You pick what is worth really lending your voice to because if it isn’t actually worth it you’re risking much more than an argument over dinner or estrangement at holidays. You’re risking your life along with everyone you love’s lives. Just like blood family; there are things you pretend you don’t see- things that are never spoken about but simply are.

Melissa sighs, a soft and quiet thank you when Barbara pats her knuckles. A silent sign that she’s finished praying and is here if Melissa wants to talk more. She lightly squeezes Barb’s hand before she’s pulling her arm back to her own space. “I’ll still see ya Sunday. Just figured a check in might help.”

“You know where to find me.” Barbara assures. “You don’t have to wait to meet me at Mass either, you know.”

“I know, it’s just one of the few free times I get.” Melissa answers. She squeezes the other woman in a quick hug before she steps out of the church the way she came.

Once she’s shutting the car door behind her again, she’s anxiously checking her phone. Nothing. It’s only been a couple hours but she had hoped with Sammy with you he’d manage to get you through the process much faster. She turns the key in the ignition to start the car once more. If she’s stuck waiting hours again, and doesn’t need to worry about your girls, she’s going to do the next best thing she can. Get whatever information she can from each and every one of her contacts.

“No comment.” You mumble, crossing your legs as you attempt to get comfortable in the metal chair. You glance at Sammy, sitting to your right. He’d instructed you to say nothing else so long as agents were in the room with you. Though you both know the room is being recorded even at the moments you’re left alone.

By now, you’ve rolled through both Agent Shaw and Agent Danik being both good cop and bad cop. They’ve practically given themselves whiplash with each being your friend one moment and then tag teaming with the other to switch sides to being an enemy. They claim they have evidence that you were directly involved with Bobby’s murder- irrefutable evidence.

The only problem with that is you’re not a hitman. You’re not one of the people anyone of the family would call for a kill. You knew the hit was coming; that much is true. Though you don’t admit to that, of course. Yet you had nothing beyond knowledge to do with it. If you didn’t have Sammy sitting next to you, you’d have likely laughed the fifth time they claimed you were the one that killed Bobby.

You remember the night well. It was near Christmas. The twins were only two years old. You and Melissa had taken them to her mother’s and had watched your large family, both blood-related and otherwise, coo and aw over them both. The girls absolutely ate up the attention, acting as if you and Melissa didn’t always fawn and fuss over them. At the time Bobby was killed, you were on the way to passing out with Mel on her mom’s couch; grateful that there were so many other eyes watching your girls that meant you both could sneak a little rest. And once the two of you had joined the world around you again, Uncle Dominic had informed the two of you lowly that business had been taken care of. At the time, you just nodded sleepily into your wife’s chest, thinking that all of your issues dealing with that man had melted away and you would just be able to enjoy this little life that you’ve built with your wife and two girls. How wrong you had been.

You know you had nothing to do with Bobby. Still, you stick to what Sammy told you. You repeat ‘no comment’ until the two words start to sound like gibberish to you. Finally, the agents step out once again. They play nice, offering water or food for both you and Sammy. You both decline.

You try to stretch out your legs beneath the table, annoyed by the knot between your shoulder blades. “Sammy,” You say the man’s name, dragging out the syllables to show your annoyance.

“They got nothin’, kid.” He answers. “They’re throwin’ shit to the wall and seein’ what sticks.”

“If I’m here until three am again, I ain’t payin’ you.” You grumble.

“You don’t pay me anyhow.” Sammy shoots back.

“You and I both know that even if my wife and I don’t pay you monetarily, you get paid in something better,” you roll your eyes. “Melissa’s branzino. You’re about two steps away from really pissin’ me off, Gaetano.” You warn lowly.

His hands raise, both palms outward as if showing he is unarmed. “Ay, don’t bite my head off. I’m here to help you, huh? Just stay patient a little longer. I’m tellin’ ya, they got nothin’.”

What feels like ages later both Agents you can now easily recognize return. They each reclaim their seats across the table from you. A folder of papers set down in the middle. Shaw pushes them across the table to you, flipping the folder covering the papers over.

You glance at the forms, your brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

“Search warrants.” Shaw answers. “For the salon and your home.”

TAGS, and let us know if you want to be added!: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @dvrkhcld

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic

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murder-cookie-dust393 · 7 months

Note

i have a fic request, but no need to rush it lol

Pv and MC are in a normal relationship (like, pv isnt a yandere yet) but MC starts to feel that pv is always busy and cares about his fight with dark enchantress more than he cares for them. This goes on for a while and after some miscommunication because of MC not telling ov how they feel, MC decides that they want a divore.

Pv is heartbroken but accepts when the desicion is first made, MC thinks it is a mutual agreement. But as the divorce progresses, pv starts to overthink the situation and starts to hate the idea of divorcing MC. He thinks that it is his fault and convinces himself that if he only pays attention to mc, if he spoils them maybe they could live him again

Before the divorce could finalize, he ends up locking mc in his castle going full yandere mode (possibly trying to kill the poor lawyer)

-🍋

Pure Vanilla fic here we go- a total of 786 words in an hour

Tw: kidnapping? But more like MC moves locations within the same building?, trapping, fluffy affections at uncomfortable moments

"I want a divorce."

The words made Pure Vanilla taken a back, but he didn't show it. He blinked before questioning, "May I ask why?" His eyes were open, more alert than ever, despite his blindness. He wasn't offended by the decision, but still saddened.

"I just think you prioritize the upcoming war more than our marriage, and I think it's best that we part." MC mumbled, keeping themselves at a slight distance from him. Their expression showed no emotion, other than the slight awkwardness of the statement itself.

For a moment, he was silent; thinking of the possible split. He decides it may be the best after all, no matter how much of a shadow it brings upon his life. It is true that the war has taken up his mind. "Alright. I accept your proposal." His eyes close once more, and instead his staff's eye opens: directly staring at them with its single eye.

"Great. We can start arranging the documents and legal process soon." They then left his study, leaving him to wander within his own thoughts. He sat there on his chair, blankly. staring at the cup of tea on his desk. Until the tears started to flow. He couldn't help himself as he started to cry quietly.

——————————————————

Over the next few weeks, the two had multiple meetings with a lawyer, to divide anything if they had to, and what the future in the becoming would be like. MC happily went through the process, wanting their divorce to go through smoothly. After all, Pure Vanilla had agreed to it without any complaints or breakdowns.

Or so they thought.

Meanwhile, Pure Vanilla was miserable. Every night he lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. In his deep thoughts, he's come to the conclusion that if he were to give them all of his attention and his affection, they would be happy again. Their marriage could be saved, and they wouldn't have to go through this idiotic process of a divorce.

Yes, he would stop the split. He won't let them leave. He needs them more than he needs the return of White Lily. Night or day, it doesn't matter; he'll keep his eyes trained on them for every second. But with the divorce already in process, what can he do? They're already planning to leave him...

Unless if he forcibly keeps them. Yes that'll do. They might have a fight or two, but it's alright, his love will fix them right up. Then they can have a lovely marriage again!

——————————————————

The night before the lawyer came to let them sign their divorce papers, Pure Vanilla carefully carries MC to their ex-martial bed, a wicked smile plastered on his face the entire time. He gives them a little peck on their forehead, before going to the robot cellar not too far from the castle.

The following day, MC woke up, and found themselves in Pure Vanilla's their room, wondering how did they end up there. They go for the door, but when they try to open it, it was still tightly shut. What was going on?

They look out the nearby window, and notice a hoard of wafflebots guarding the castle, one even not far from the balcony just outside. Speaking of window, why was it barred? It's not enough to restrain the view of the landscape a far, but the gaps are too small to get a cookie through.

The more time they spend observing things, the more they feel like they're in a jail cell.

Just then, someone enters: Pure Vanilla himself. He was holding a tray of tea and biscuits/crackers. "Ah bluebell, you're awake! I hope your sleep was lovely, dear." He sets down the platter, approaching them.

They step back, a bit fearful of everything. "Pure Vanilla, how did I get here?" Their voice is a bit shaky, their eyes glancing around the room rapidly.

"Oh that doesn't matter, my dearest. Now come, let me hold you." He hugs them tight before they could step away, pressing an affectionate kiss to their cheek. "I miss being able to hold you like this."

MC, a little uncomfortable at the sudden barrage of the affection, tries to gently push him away. "Pure Vanilla, what's gotten into you all of the sudden?" He hadn't given them much attention for months now, why was he all lovey-dovey right at this moment?

He pulls them right back to his chest, holding them even firmer than before. He whispers, "You wanted more attention right? So I'm giving it to you." He nuzzles their cheek, unbelievably close. "We're not going to have a divorce. I'm going to be your husband forever and ever."

(The writing feels kinda half-assed I apologize. But yes, have this. Honestly I think this is my first "true" fic on this blog)

- Celina

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run x reader #yandere cookie run #yandere x reader #crk x reader #yandere #pure vanilla cookie #cookie run kingdom x reader #yandere cookie run kingdom

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jooniperbonsai · 24 days

Text

I'll Give You the Sun (jhs) | Part One

Pairing: SunDeity!Hoseok x MoonDeity!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Part One Length: 10.6k

Release Date: Fri, April 19, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, fantasy au, royalty, mythology

Summary: Fated to fulfill an ancient prophecy claiming he will ascend into a curse-breaking hero on the day of his kingdom’s first total solar eclipse, Hoseok is jaded and cynical over his lack of choice in becoming the king and god of the Solar Kingdom. He’s even less pleased that his coronation is to be shared with the future king of the Lunar Kingdom, whose clear obsession with power is already a sign of trouble ahead.

But when the moon fully overtakes the sun and bathes everything in darkness, the ascension of gods and kings doesn’t seem to be all that the fates prophesied. With you now coming out of the shadows to claim your rightful title, the pressure is on for the two of you to break this curse together, before it completely destroys your two kingdoms.

Warnings: Swearing, physical aggression, low self-esteem, implied emotional and physical abuse, dirty talk, grinding/thigh riding, dom! hoseok already making himself known

a/n: yayyyyy welcome to the new series! may sun deity hobi be as adored by you as he is by me. You can look forward to Part 2 where we meet our y/n very soon. -h

He can hear her shuffling down the hall. His mother. No doubt draped in the silky, long golden cape that shines as she passes by every sunny window. He doesn’t need to look at her to know that she’s wearing it. That, or her crown, pointed at all sides in honor of the many ancestral deities who have served the stars before, whose power and strength created the very particles of the universe. He also doesn’t need to look to know she’s heading directly toward his chamber, seeking Hoseok out.

He knows she is, because he was supposed to be in the Great Hall an hour ago to go over his coronation and is instead sitting out on his balcony, looking up at the moon high in the sky despite it being one in the afternoon.

“Hoseok,” his mother echos from his doorway, breathless and exasperated.

“I know,” he calls back. He knows he’s due for a lecture, but because his mother is impatient, because the entire palace and kingdom and evidently the entire fucking universe is impatient for their prince to become a king, and with that title, a god, there’s no time for a lecture.

He takes one last look up at the sky, the pebbled moon inching ever closer, and scowls before retreating back indoors.

If Hoseok had things his way, he would seek out whichever god before him who uttered his prophecy to ascend to the throne and burn him with all the power of the Sun he is so called the god of. Apollo, Ra, Helios, Tsohanoai, Sol, Tai Yang Xing Jun, whoever it was who caused this, who murmured his message before the fates, he is probably laughing at Hoseok as his mother clucks at him and pinches away invisible specks of lint from his pristine suit.

“Your father wants to see you before we begin.”

“I thought the party was already under way,” he mutters, his mother cocking an eyebrow at him.

“It is, which I now take it you are staunchly avoiding instead of simply losing track of time like I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt for.”

“Eomma, you know I don’t want to do this. I have told you so for years. I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to be a god.”

“Yes, but the fates decided it so. They chose you over your sister, and this means whether there’s a party or not, it’s going to happen. You might as well enjoy the food and music and make the best of it.” With a sigh, she adjusts the heady gilded crown pinned to her head and strolls out of Hoseok’s chamber, leaving behind the faint note of her jasmine perfume.

Hoseok knows he can’t hide here forever. He knows that once the total eclipse occurs in a matter of hours, he will be thrust into a life of duty. And not soon after he ascends, he also knows that he will be expected to begin courting someone. That is another matter entirely, one he is not going to even entertain today.

He’s not opposed to marriage or courting, not in the slightest. His elder sister married a few years ago, a marriage that gives structure and stability. Her husband clearly loves her, and Hoseok enjoys when he sees his brother-in-law when they visit during the summer months, when the days stretch into nights and for a little while, the state of things feels less cursed and oppressive.

They often have long, decadent dinners in the back garden, surrounded by the low hum of the bees as they move from sunflower to sunflower (his mother’s favorite). The summer months are coming, which means soon Hoseok will feel a little bit more like himself. Why wouldn’t he want to spend time with someone, to enjoy strawberries straight from the garden and walk along the river with the one he courts?

All of these things are exactly what he wants.

Or he used to, anyway. He glances at the mirror above his vanity, his black hair already losing some of its hold despite only being styled a handful of hours ago. Normally, it doesn’t do that. Normally, once set into place, he appears as the precise and put-together person in the room.

But today, he realizes, is not normal.

In his lifetime, there has never been a total solar eclipse over his kingdom. Which is why in many ways, today is the beginning of the end, as today he will fulfill his destiny within the prophecy:

On the Eve of day, the day of night,

when the moon fully captures the sun’s light

over the House of the ones who worship the rays,

will an alliance occur that pleases the fates:

Two kingdoms will gain what they most need

after long years of suffering from past gods’ greed.

From the cliffs off the shore where the sky hangs low,

will come the fated one crowned with a moonlit halo.

And from the flowering valleys where the rolling hills run,

will come the destined one crowned with the beams of the sun.

The shadows shattering during the fifteenth hour

shall bestow these two souls with ultimate power.

The moon stepping forward with nothing to hide

is burdened not by the sin of pride

nor the sun is he plagued by the darkness above,

but balanced with allegiance, passion, and love.

United these two the fates will regard

with the highest of honor among the stars.

What was once divided now becomes one,

with the all sacred moon and almighty sun.

And together these two blessed by the heavens’ ring,

will end the curse of the promised false king.

He can recite the entire thing by heart. It is a prophecy that echoes in his oldest memories, ones when he could scarcely understand the phrases coded within, but recognized the cadence of over time as it swirled into words he one day understood. It was read on his tenth birthday as he watched the red wax of his “10” candle slide down the pillar and onto the buttercream frosting of his cake, the red upon white almost looking like blood. It was read at weddings, graduations, all a reminder of the great hope that is to come.

Even then he knew it to be less of its intended blessing and more of a curse dooming him to follow its guidelines, to be “balanced with allegiance, passion, and love”. Hoseok doesn’t deny that these are traits he has, but he isn’t entirely sure if these are traits he was destined to have, or if through the power of suggestion and pressure over the years, he has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

He looks back in the mirror, scooping a curl off of his face, memorizing the rich brown of his eyes, the even slant of his nose. He knows his ascension isn’t technically supposed to change him, at least not in the ways that are noticeable. All of the royal advisors and lesser gods on the council have assured him, reassured him, and if it’s even possible, over-assured him as such.

Even his parents have dipped their toes into the conversation, despite always and forevermore being mortal.

It’s not like you’re going to sprout a second head and start devouring the souls of mortals. You are just going to feel different. More powerful. Rightly so. You will be.

And that’s what concerns him. Not the sprouting of another head or bloodthirst.

How can things still be the same–how can he still be the same–if he is about to be given power? Not just any power either. This is enough power to end the long-standing drought that wiped out the southeast corner of the Solar Kingdom. A drought so severe that the only thing left in that part of the kingdom is abandoned homes and stories from the Elder gods that prove it was once a vivid place full of diverse life, with lush flora that bore plump, juicy fruits, art, and culture.

The Elder gods have been around for, well, no one quite knows how long, including them. When asked, they often click their tongue, sipping whatever sparkly alcoholic concoction that fancies them that day before dismissing the curious soul who asks. After a while, time just rolls itself together. You mortals are so obsessed with it. Relax, take it all in. Hundreds, even thousands of years may have passed, but still we eat and drink and dance.

And from all that eating and drinking and dancing came the many stories about the parts of the kingdom that Hoseok had never heard of, and some he is still sure don’t really exist. How on this planet were there once waterfalls that fell up instead of down, or vines that could bear grapes the size of his head? Over time, he has learned to take what the Elder gods say at face value; they are bored and ancient and looking for something to entertain them. The only reason he knows the southeast corner once had any of these things is because of the ruins.

When he was young, he was taken there by the royal council and his parents to help him understand the weight of his place in all this, how crucial it was that he rise and grow to end the drought that forced thousands to become displaced and desperate. How better was he to understand the importance of the power he would one day be given than to see how selfishly wielding it only resulted in strife and suffering for all?

The drought is expanding, leeching more from his kingdom by the year. By his twenty ninth birthday, the Great Forest of Solaria, a region two hours south of the capital, known for its tall redwoods and cypresses, has had three sizable forest fires, forcing its people, including Hoseok’s best friend Namjoon, to flee north. Namjoon and his family have been living in the palace for almost a full year.

But because of this curse, this reign of the nefarious king Mang Shin, who tore down Hoseok’s people and the land around it for his own selfish gain, because of his cruelty that angered the fates, the Solar Kingdom has been managing a worsening drought. How much longer before the capital city can no longer sustain any of its people, when it is no longer a refuge?

His kingdom is not the only one impacted by the cruelty of Mang Shin. The Lunar Kingdom to the northwest is half underwater after high tides that led to flooding. While the capital city of the Solar Kingdom has not directly suffered from the curse of Mang Shin, the Lunar Kingdom’s capital city has not been so lucky.

A month ago, a large tidal wave capsized the northern end of the city, drowning thousands and destroying a major sea port that was essential to the booming trade industry of the north. From the rumors Hoseok heard, the crown prince was set to be in the district that morning on official business, but was running behind after spending a night out drinking and occupying the brothels in the southern corridor. He would have been washed away in the sea if he were on time.

Which means all this, all that Hoseok has been procrastinating on attending, has stopped seven times in the short hallway over, would have been for nothing. There would be no end to this curse, only the slow suffering of his actual fate.

No. The crown prince is in the Great Hall waiting for Hoseok to get his shit together and help restore balance to both kingdoms. A dual coronation. Two princes to become kings of their own kingdoms. The Lunar Kingdom exists as the Solar Kingdom exists. Both need each other now to ensure the longevity of the other. There’s no other destiny than this.

He pauses in front of the door to his father’s study, grazes his knuckles against the wood of the door. He sighs.

You have to do this. There’s no other way.

And just as he thinks to turn, to run, to flee his home and this kingdom and go everywhere and nowhere all at once, the door to his father’s study opens.

He expects to see the firm set frown of his father, to be given his final lecture and coronet before his father abdicates and Hoseok is the owner of the hefty, ornate crown he has come to despise.

He is not expecting to hear a soft feminine gasp that is very different to the sounds his father makes. Nor is he expecting to see you staring right back at him.

You’re wearing a long navy gown flecked with what looks like stars shimmering in the glow of the study’s dim light.

You should be wearing a tiara, or at least some kind of diadem like your mother, whom Hoseok saw this morning when he snuck into the kitchen after skipping the official breakfast. He should have been embarrassed, but she seemed even more so for being there and helping herself to custard cakes that were meant for today’s celebration.

I won’t tell if you won't, she'd said, her voice tight, possibly from speaking between bites of the creamy custard. Her diadem encrusted with diamonds in the shape of what looked like the constellation Cygnus gleamed in the sunlight that leaked into the kitchen.

She didn’t care that he hadn’t given your family a proper greeting, and she seemed unbothered by his unwashed and unshaved state. She looked at him like he was just a boy. So he didn’t say a word, just stole a cake for himself and locked himself in his chamber until his mother hunted down Namjoon to let him in and at least convince him to bathe.

Even informally dressed, your mother wore her head adornment, which is why it is not only odd to see you striding out of his father’s study, but to also see you walking around without anything to signify you are more than just a palace advisor or lady of the court.

Then again, you were always odd. While your families were not close by any means, their strained allyship and understanding of their dependency on one another meant that Hoseok’s family and your family had met a few times over the years, and each time he was in the vicinity of you, he couldn’t help but notice how out of place you were.

While your brother commanded the attention of everyone in the room, demanded the world stopped to hear the new song he composed on guitar or rambled on and on about diplomacy and trade relations over a feast, you instead faded into the background of every place you entered, a shadow that cast itself behind the path of her brother’s radiant glow.

So maybe not wearing a crown isn’t so unexpected when it comes to you. A crown is the opposite of a shadow. It demands everyone look at it, too. And even if you wanted to be looked at– which he assumes is not true given the fact that you’re practically shrinking away from Hoseok as he looks at you now– it doesn’t seem as though your brother would be willing to share the spotlight long enough to even give you the chance.

He realizes he doesn’t even need to ask what you are doing in his father’s study, he already knows: you are doing what you always do when he sees you, what he suspects you do when he isn’t around too: you made yourself invisible. You often snuck off during your visits here to the library or the palace gardens, returning late in the day with dirt on your skirts or charcoal on your hands. He notices the object that confirms his suspicions: a sketchbook nestled between your fingertips that is staining your inner fingers black.

“I was just–” you begin, eyes wide as you stammer. “Your father, he said I could be in here. I didn’t touch anything, I was drawing!” You hold the book out in front of you like a shield.

Hoseok raises his hands up. “Hey, hey, relax. I’m not accusing you of anything!” Your eyes soften a little, but you still remain frozen in the doorway, the sketchbook acting as if it's made of steel, not paper. “Speaking of my father, have you seen him? He said he wants to talk to me before, y’know…the thing.”

“The thing…” you repeat, finally lowering the book as you knit your brows together. You give him a puzzled look before answering. “Uh, I did. I was sketching him, actually. But he left to go to the Great Hall about ten minutes ago to deal with something urgent. But he said if I saw you to tell you to get your coronet on. It’s in here, on his desk.”

With a flurry, you twirl, heading back into the soft glow of the office behind you. As you turn, a puff of air leaves Hoseok’s chest as he sees the effect your dress has in the shifting light. It’s as if millions of stars are swirling around you, centering you as their moon in a night sky.

Whoa.

For a moment, he’s stunned, not entirely sure what he just saw. But then he remembers what he is supposed to be doing, and he follows you like a sailor follows the stars, letting you guide him into the cold room.

Sure enough on his father’s desk is the coronet, a small box of pins to fasten it into place beside it, and a handwritten note from his father.

Be extraordinary.

Or be nothing at all, he finishes mentally. Hoseok’s father has spent all of his life uttering that phrase, placing his very soul behind the words that are supposed to be inspirational. He had learned it from a book at the university he attended when he was a young scholar, coming across it and deciding it suited his philosophy: excel beyond ordinary leadership and be a great ruler to his people. If not, what was the point in being a leader at all?

This was a phrase that always unsettled Hoseok, because extraordinary measures mean one-upping himself in the process, and that is something his father seemed to push in his youth. Top marks in his class? He then needed to be the top of his class and on the student council. Developed a grant for young dancers to encourage a stronger relationship to the arts from a younger age? He must establish an entire foundation for performing arts within the next five years. Higher and higher he has always been forced to climb, until the clouds once above him are nothing more than wisps of air at his feet.

And he’s afraid of heights. Of falling from this place where he is held so high in regard and duty he might as well live among the stars.

He swallows a knot in his throat, taking the note with his father’s message and crumpling it in his fist.

You, who have been curiously watching him this entire time, raise an eyebrow. Hoseok suddenly feels particularly defensive and on edge from his father’s notice. The king has written it on official letterhead, technically making it Royal business and not familial. It’s not a phrase of encouragement for him to be extraordinary, but an order.

“What,” he snaps, and immediately regrets it as he watches your face cloud slightly before you regain composure.

“It’s a pretty morbid saying, isn’t it?” you say thoughtfully after a moment, nodding your head to the balled up piece of paper in his hands. “This idea that if you aren’t always beating yourself then you’re not successful or good enough to rule. But it’s so damning. How can you win when part of you must always lose?”

Hoseok inhales sharply, the words hitting him hard. But before he can even think to respond, you are scrambling.

“Exactly,” he says darkly. He takes the coronet in hand. “The thing is, either way you spin this, it’s a loss.”

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before stepping toward him, reaching for the box of hairpins. “I’m sorry,” you mumble and pluck a pin from the box, gesturing for Hoseok to bend down.

He isn’t the tallest man in the kingdom by far, and you’re not much shorter, but next to you, he somehow feels huge. Do you have horrible posture or something? He glances over at you, but then he notices that while your head would rest above his shoulder if you moved closer, and your back is perfectly straight–straighter than even he has been trained to stand– it’s not your height that makes you feel so small. It’s everything else. You are a walking optical illusion. In his memories, he had always placed you as half his size, and he finally understands why: it lets you fly under the radar.

He sighs, placing the coronet upon his head at last, turning over the idea of being under the radar in his mind. Something in him sours, a prick of jealousy flaring up at how you will inevitably spend the rest of the night after the coronation. “Not like you had any part in this. Soon this will all be over and you can go back to hiding in rooms with your sketch pads and books and be invisible to everyone again.”

You flinch at his words, the pin you have begun fastening to his head to steady the crown snags into his scalp.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that?” Hoseok yelps, and you jolt back, tears brimming your eyes as if you were the one who was just stabbed in the head.

“Oh, I get it. So you think this is the end of the world for you and the rest of us are just going to go about our merry way like the savior gods have solved all our problems.” Your voice is sharp, unlike anything he has ever heard come from you, and he can see the fury burning into your eyes as tears begin to spill.

“Have you ever fucking thought about how the rest of us are going to cope with these changes? Yes, I understand the ascension is damnation in its own way, and that this awful fucking curse has plagued our kingdoms for centuries but you’re so selfishly focused on yourself when there are two of you who will share the burden. And the power. Yes, you are vain and self-absorbed but your drought will end. The forest fires will have paved the way for nutrient rich soil and things here will thrive better than they ever have. Your friend Namjoon? He can return to his community and rebuild. And you, Jung Hoseok, you will live on forever in the glory of all that you saved and your stupid ego will be smoothed over with godly power. Power that who knows what the hell you’ll do with. In another thousand years you too will be bored and sighing with the other Elder gods talking about the time you saved us all and embellishing your stories to bring new life into them.

“And the rest of us? We will be doing all that work for you as you sit on your throne and watch us break our backs to continue to pay for what Mang Shin did. And then we will die. My own best friend died in the floods we had a month ago. And I will die, having only lived a life that is in service to another god. Mang Shin or you or my fucking awful brother–”

You freeze, realizing your mistake. But Hoseok is seeing red at your accusation.

“You think I’m just going to be like all those other lazy gods? I want to be nothing like them! Unlike them I care about my home, my people, and family! And you have the audacity to stand in my father’s office and claim that I won’t do the right thing? That I’m in this and moping because of my ego? Oh, fuck you, Y/N! You don’t know the first thing about me. When I walk out of this room and into the Great Hall, I am no longer me. I am the pawn they raised me to be in some game I never want to play. And you, you’re free.” He spits those words at you with a sneer.

Your nostrils flare and you close the distance between you two. He can feel the heat of your body as you shove it against him, backing him into his father’s desk so he can’t escape. The soft flurry of your gown grazes the back of his left hand.

“Free?” you say low, your voice dripping with disgust. “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not free. I am invisible. And not by choice, by necessity.” You reach down between you, grabbing one of his wrists and pinching your fingers around it. Then, you grab the other with the same motion and hold them both up to him. “One shackle for being born without the fates’ blessing. That would have been damning enough. An outcast compared to my brother. At least your sister was given some response from the fates upon her birth. Some gift.”

You tighten your hand around the other wrist, your nails digging small crescents into Hoseok’s skin. “The other for being born into a life where I will always be cleaning up the messes of a tyrannical ruler, be it a king who lived a millennia ago or my own brother or a beloved god like you.”

Hoseok’s stomach drops as you hiss the last word out and he tugs at his wrists to try to free himself from you. He feels as though he’s going to explode. Who the hell do you believe yourself to be? Royalty or not, you know there are rules in place that forbid you both from touching, though those rules were mostly enforced during the time of puberty for the both of you, but there was never an official retraction. If he thinks about it, this is the first time the two of you have ever even touched. And it’s probably for the best.

He feels like he’s burning under your gaze, a fire hotter than anything he’s ever known. Your fingertips digging into his skin, feel like needles and iron weights under him. In one moment you have gone from being small and frail to fierce and terrifying, the radiant glow of royalty your entire family wears breaks from you as your raw emotion unravels your smooth exterior.

You are in this moment the furthest thing from invisible and Hoseok’s heart beating wildly as you shift even closer to him tells him so. But Hoseok has trained his entire life for combat, knows how to put mind over matter. So he focuses and with an exhale composes himself, a devilish smirk spreading across his face.

Your brows knit together, but your hold remains firm.

“My sister can hold her own. The fates knew that. She was not suited to be a ruler when she had much better skills with people and commerce. That, and they probably knew that she too would lead with some kind of bias.” He snorts. “But you, that really is a shame. Maybe the fates were wrong about you. Maybe they made a mistake in forgetting to give you a gift.”

You gasp, and he jolts, releasing your hands from his wrists. “Don’t say that. You shouldn’t say that.”

He knows he shouldn’t. To speak ill of the fates could lead to serious punishment. When born, everyone is visited by the fates during their first long slumber. For most people of good standing, the fates bless them with some type of gift, be it physical wealth, talent, status, or some other quality or characteristic that solidifies them in society.

While there is no set pattern in who the fates often deliver gifts to, in the last few generations, most blessings from the fates are given to those born into nobility. At least for Hoseok, everyone in his family as far back as his great grandfather was given a blessing. His mother had received the precise skill of archery, picking up a bow and arrow as early as seven years old and shooting the target nearly dead center. The only reason she was off was because the bow was too heavy for her. His father was given his intellect, leading to him being a great scholar and general. His sister was given a hand mirror embedded with large rubies.

All the gifts are left in a pouch tied to the baby’s bassinet. If the gift is not physical, a small note is often attached with an explanation or hint for what will be fulfilled. Some larger gifts may just be laid next to the bassinet, but rarely is it larger than the size of one’s hand.

For Hoseok, the fates’ gift was a scroll with the prophecy copied to it, along with a gold ring engraved with a sun that he is wearing now. Not too cryptic to interpret. His parents knew from the start who he was.

Your family, however, is another story. From what Hoseok understands, when your older brother was born, he did not receive such a literal interpretation of the prophecy. Rather, his gift was a monocular that for years people thought was broken. It wasn’t until he once used it while stupidly looking up at the sun that your brother realized the monocular wasn’t broken.

Instead, it provided a very important film over the lens that allowed him to stare for hours at the sun and not go blind. During the sporadic partial solar eclipses over the years that gave Hoseok chills down his spine, your brother was often on the cliff banks, gazing at the sun flares and embracing his future.

A monocular meant for solar eclipses. What else could that mean but that he is a fated one?

As for you, Hoseok heard that the evening of your birth a handful of years later came and went with no blessing. When your parents had woken to find nothing in the pouch or the areas around your bassinet, had asked every palace worker thrice to see if anyone had entered the nursery that evening and everyone had assured that no one had entered and the door that separated the bathroom between you and your brother’s rooms had remained locked, your brother sound asleep, there was nothing left to do but accept that for the first time in generations, your family had ended its line of fated ones with your brother.

In a way, did it matter? Whether you are blessed or not if your brother is the one who will finally end the curse? Perhaps not. But either way, Hoseok can’t help but feel pissed at the fates today, and wants to poke at them a bit and let him know he isn’t happy with the gift they gave him.

Sure, no one is supposed to insult them. There are many tales told to children about what happens to those who test their authority, cautionary lessons that warn them not to misbehave or they will suffer greatly. It is, after all, the result of Mang Shin’s own challenging and disrespecting the fates that caused all of this anyway.

But right now Hoseok doesn't have a single fuck to give about what they decided anyone is destined for. How they “always choose wisely.” That doesn’t make sense to him. The fates can’t be perfect, can they? In all things. Including you.

Especially you, he realizes. Because he would be foolish to write you off as a boring nobody, even if that is the mask you wear.

“Why not? Why shouldn’t I be pissed at them and question them? If they have decided this is a burden I must shoulder forever, then let me have my doubts! I’m actually disgusted by the fact that no one has ever questioned my role in this. A savior of an entire kingdom! Me? The one who broke into the armory and stole fireworks to launch on my eighteenth birthday?”

Which, had been an awful idea. The fireworks had been locked away because of their tendency to cause fires. And with that winter having much less snow than ever before, the farmland he had drunkenly lit those fireworks in was full of dead, dry brambles. The perfect kindling.

His transgression cost the kingdom millions. He was lucky there was no wind that day to carry the fire across the creek the farm jutted up to. But the fire did enough damage to burn that entire farm’s crops for that year.

You snort. “Yes, well I think your accidental arson doesn’t alter your favor with the fates.” You gesture for him to bend again to finally pin on his coronet. The angry steam trapped inside his chest is starting to lessen. In some way, it just feels good to have said it out loud.

So he obeys and lets you change the subject as you work. “Why did you want the fireworks anyway?”

Hoseok stills, wanting to avoid another stabbing. Your fingers are more nimble this time, sweeping gently through his scalp before securing the pins. As you make your adjustments, your pinky skims the shell of his ear.

It’s that tenderness that prompts him to answer honestly. “I was sad, or rather mad that in an entire ballroom full of people celebrating, I had never felt so alone in my whole life. It didn’t feel like they were celebrating me, but this idea of us getting closer to the end of the suffering. Another year passing means another year closer to when we could more accurately predict the eclipse, if it was actually going to be a total one and pass directly above us. So my birthday became this symbol of hope I guess.”

You hum in response, a quiet prompt asking him to continue. He feels your fingers adjusting the pins in the back, gentle, oh so gentle. His eyes fall closed, trying to focus instead on his story.

“I should be happy about that, right? To be this symbol of hope for everyone. But I didn’t want that. I never wanted to become a symbol of something over being a person, and that seems to be what all this ever is. I had come to realize it at the time, and wanted to rebel, to do something for myself for my birthday instead of being in service to others.

“So I broke into the armory while everyone was dancing, said I needed a moment to relieve myself. The guard was easily bribed by a strong glass of whisky I claimed wasn’t to my taste and the smell of the feast in the hall. I told him I would find the captain to have him guard his post while he went to enjoy the celebration.”

He hears you chuckle, an infectious, feathery sound that piques his interest. He wonders how often you laugh at things. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you do so before.

He smirks. “Yeah, he didn’t think twice about that. Why would the well-behaved, diplomatic prince try to break into the armory during his birthday celebration? Once he was out of sight I walked right in and grabbed what I was looking for. Ditched the ball, grabbed a bottle of whisky and went to drown my sorrows. The rest was history. I barely got to look up and enjoy the fireworks before I saw the fire begin. And by that point I was too drunk to walk straight to even know what to do. I couldn’t run fast enough to stomp it out and I didn’t have any water with me. So I just stood and watched it all burn before me.”

Your fingers stroke the coronet in Hoseok’s hair and then he feels them fall, your fingertips combing through it, nails sometimes scraping against his scalp. It’s so soothing, grounding to him, and he inhales deeply as your hands weave around him, one side and then the other, as if you are guiding every hair, every part of him back into place.

“That’s when I started to really wonder if the fates got it all wrong with me. Because I can cause so much damage so quickly if I’m not careful. And selfishly too. What I did, that was because I couldn’t let people see me as this symbol of something that I’m not even sure I represent And if I have power? What if I use it wrong?”

“You’re right. I am vain and selfish to be complaining about this stuff when I’m lucky. I got to go on a bender and blow up a bunch of illegal arsenal and the most I got was a stern finger waggle because I’m a ‘fated one’. And once this is all over, I don’t know. I’m probably not going to be the king everyone thinks I’m going to be. And I’ll fight like hell but I’m terrified that I’m going to be different. That somehow the second I’m blessed with this power I’m going to wield it to hurt others, to be that same selfish asshole of a child that I was.”

He feels your hand pause, and opens his eyes. Your eyes meet, and your hand falls from his head, returning into your orbit as you cross your arms in front of you.

“But you didn’t mean for that to happen, Hoseok. None of that. I don’t think the fates are going to fault you for a mistake like that, and I don’t think they made the wrong choice for a human acting as a human. And even when you’re a god, I don’t know. You’ll probably make mistakes too, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be cruel.”

You sigh. “I’m sorry I said that about you. I…you’re not like him, Mang Shin. You aren’t going to be this lazy ruler or probably even a bad one. Because you care. Didn’t you repair the damage to the barn yourself?”

He nods.

“That really speaks more to your character than whatever air of diplomacy you think you need to have. And the same for your power that you’ll receive. The ascension doesn’t make you invincible, but it just amplifies the qualities you have. And you don’t have malice in you to burn down an entire farm.

“My brother however? I think if he was in your position, he would have argued the fire was the farm’s fault for not sprinkling the crops with a fire retardant or something. Or, if he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted, that might have made him so furious that he spread the fire beyond the farm on purpose. One time when we were younger, he received awful marks on an exam he admittedly did not study for, and when our tutor scolded him for it and wagged his finger in his direction, he bit the tip of his finger clean off. And he smiled as he did it.”

Hoseok blanches. He has heard that your brother wasn’t the most savory of people, some of the people of the Solar kingdom having encountered him during the royal family’s visitations. Hoseok himself knows that he’s rude and narcissistic, often interrupting during their different conversations to talk about himself or scowl at the palace workers as they try to serve his meals. Particular, they always describe the Lunar Prince. He is not a bad man, just very particular.

More like entitled, and borderline ruthless, Hoseok thinks to himself.

“Your brother sounds very...particular,” he says instead of what he’s actually thinking.

You roll your eyes. “I hate that fucking word,” you mutter, uncrossing your arms and stepping back to look at Hoseok. You click your tongue once and then nod in approval. The coronet must be even.

“What word would you use instead?” Hoseok whispers, taking a step toward you.

This conversation feels private, and no matter how private his father’s study feels, he doesn’t want the physical distance between the two of you as you share more intimate thoughts.

You hesitate. Your eyes flash to his, and then he can see the well of tears brimming up into your eyes once more. “Does it really matter anyway? A monster, a tyrant, an asshole. He’s going to be king, a god, regardless of how I describe him. And it would be treasonous, not to mention unwise, to question the decision of the fates. If he hears what I think, I’ll suffer worse. But everyone chooses to see something in him clearly that I do not, gifted him that monocular and wrote him into the prophecy to seal it. He is a fated one. And regardless of what you think or what I think, that’s how it’s going to be. I wasn’t gifted with anything. I’ll admit that I’m not looking forward to this transition and how messy it'll be. I spent most of my youth cleaning up his small messes and I’m sure I’ll be doing the big ones now. But I’m trying to make peace with it, I don’t have much of a choice.”

A renewed anger boils in Hoseok. “So your way of handling and accepting all of this, the fact that your brother is about to receive hoards of untapped power that might teeter your kingdom into oblivion, is by being invisible? By throwing your life away? How is that supposed to be helpful?”

You jerk away, the small distance between you growing larger as your dress glitters in a spotlight, casting refractions of it onto the walls and bookshelves all around you. In every pocket of the dark room, there’s a part of you shifting yourself onto everything else, including Hoseok. He opens his palm where the refraction casts, almost as though he’s holding a part of your light in his hand.

But just as soon as you’re in the light, you’re out of it, the refraction gone, and you into the shadows.

He steps forward, tries to cross the distance once more, but the intimate moment of secrets is gone, and stops him in his tracks. He can tell he has struck a wound by the sharp laugh that blares from your chest. It sounds nothing like the one he heard before.

“What am I supposed to do exactly? Go waltz in there and scream to the fates that he’s the wrong choice and we are all doomed? Demand he surrender his title and not accept this gift? Do you think anyone would even listen to me if I were to raise such doubt? I would be exiled before the eclipse reaches totality.

“I’m no one Hoseok. Not to my kingdom, certainly not my parents or brother. I’m simply here to put as much of a wedge between the blows my brother deals and the people of my kingdom who will receive it. And as far as how I’ll handle it, I have two options: I can continue as I am now, cleaning up the mess. Or I can re-enter the shadows of life and marry the Duke of Nebula and leave the Lunar Kingdom forever. Didn’t you say so yourself that I am free because of my position? That I am unburdened with the sense of duty that you are? Maybe you should think less about me and more about what you’re going to do after all this is over.”

You turn away from him, the skirt of your dress rustling as you try to make your escape, to leave him without the last word.

No, he thinks. Not like this. He has spent enough of his life not having the last word when it comes to matters about him.

Fury licks through his veins. He feels heat rush through his face, the tips of his ears, the tingling part of his scalp you were touching mere minutes ago. No, this conversation isn’t over until he says it is. He stalks over to you as you reach for the door handle, grabbing your wrist in his palm, tugging it over your head as he shoves your back against the door, trapping you.

You release the air in your chest with a huff, your other hand coming to fight him off. But he’s faster. Again, he’s trained his whole life to do this. He easily pins your other wrist above you.

“So that’s it? Your two choices are to marry some old wrinkled Duke or stay as your brother’s punching bag.”

He scoffs. You struggle against his hold.

“That’s none of your business! Let go of me!” you growl, tugging, ragged breaths heaving your chest.

“No,” Hoseok says. “I’m not done. If I’m going to walk out of here and take on the burdens of the world, then I’m going to at least spend the last moments of my mortal life ensuring you don’t waste yours. You have a choice in all of this freedom and you’re choosing wrong. The worst fucking things you can possibly choose. Consider it my first act of diplomacy as king.”

You angle your head up to him, your brows furrowed. “Then please, your majesty, enlighten me as to what you would choose for me, since you feel so inclined to do so.”

Your body is just as heated under Hoseok as he is now, a sheen of perspiration blooming in your décolletage. Both of you are boiling in your anger. Yet you take it a step further, widening your stance and looping one leg behind him to try and find the weak spot behind his knees.

You succeed, his leg slipping and tangling itself in the skirt of your dress. Rather than break the hold he has on you, however, he falls forward, his forearms falling to either side of your head, his body now fully leaning into you.

Under any other circumstance, Hoseok would immediately untangle himself, apologize, blush at the embarrassment of his body colliding with another, especially with it being taboo in the law. But this time he doesn’t. And as you struggle against him, he can feel your soft thigh brush against the front of his trousers, sending a lap of heat to his cock. It’s almost dizzying how hot it is in the study now. The room is kept at a cool temperature to ensure the books don’t warp from humidity.

Which means the heat that is scorching through his veins is from the two of you creating it. He pulls a deep breath into his chest, trying to focus on finishing this conversation, on his frustration with you for being so careless with yourself.

“If I was free like you, without the universe waiting for me outside my door, I wouldn’t be hiding in the cold shadows hoping no one noticed me. I would be out in the world, discovering all the things I’ve been denied.”

He adjusts himself against you, and as he does so, his thigh lands between your legs, resting at the crook of where they meet. A sharp intake of breath crests from you, and your eyes meet, your gaze hard.

“Like what?” you ask. “What exactly would you be chasing instead of denying yourself?”

Hoseok smirks, knowing he’s trapped you in this conversation. He really has been trained well. “Pleasure,” he says, and your eyes widen.

“What?”

“You heard me, Y/N. Pleasure. You think you’re going to find that with the Duke of Nebula? He’s so ancient, I doubt he could even get it up. And even if he still can, god what a bore he would be. He’s sired enough children in his lifetime, and can't be expected to run around and play with or care for any of the ones you would give him.

“So you would either be sitting around just the two of you for the rest of his life–gods hoping it wouldn’t be much longer–or you would be raising his children practically by yourself. They would have no status either, too far down on the family chain to have any standing. Which means you would rot in that place until you found another man to marry. And that would be your life. What a waste of your potential. You’re young, beautiful, intelligent, and throwing your life away.”

He clicks his tongue. “Pleasure you wouldn’t find with him. Maybe even the next guy. So why sign yourself up for any of that when you don’t have to? When you can feel alive while you’re alive and feel good. Know ecstasy, your joints coming loose in your body, fuc–”

“I’m not a virgin, Hoseok. I know what pleasure feels like,” you spit. Hoseok’s eyes flash. He licks his lips.

“Do you really?” he whispers. “Do you know how it feels to really fuck for the sake of pleasure, Y/N? Of letting someone else hold the reins of your undoing and pulling them so taught you think you’re going to snap, only to finally give you what you truly need and set you free over the edge?”

You shiver underneath him, closing your eyes. Good, he thinks. You’re listening, separating yourself from the rule-bound life you shouldn’t be bound to.

“What is it you really want, Y/N? What is it that you’re denying yourself of having? Of taking?”

“Nothing,” you whimper.

“Liar,” Hoseok grins. “You want so much more than this. You’re too much of a dreamer. Tell me, what do you want?”

“It’s none of your business,” you pant, though he can feel it, your resistance of your hold slipping.

“No, it’s not. But I’ll trade you. Your secret, your dreams for mine.”

You meet his gaze again, and Hoseok sees the shimmer in your eyes, curiosity blooming as you fall foolishly into his trap.

“Fine,” you yield. His grin spreads even further. He knows he probably looks deranged, but he can’t help it. He’s come this far. If the world is ending after this, he wants to know he at least spent his last moments of humanity trying to help someone else hold onto theirs.

“I want things that don’t matter. To be a mother someday. I want to write and sketch and sit in an open garden where I can stare at the sky from morning to night, counting all the stars over and over again and laughing when I lose count. I want laughter the most. For someone to pull it from me in the darkness. To bottle the feeling he gives me and fall asleep in his arms. I want to feel warm, like this, because it always feels so cold and lonely out here. And I’d miss home, but I want to leave it because it’s just as cold there during the summer winds than it is on the most mild winter days. And I want pleasure. Fuck, I need pleasure. I would divide up the universe for it. I want to feel alive as I do at this moment. Electricity, fire and ice all at once. I want to be taken and held, fucked, devoured as if I matter.”

You drag your hips up, and Hoseok gasps as you move yourself against his thigh, against what is now his throbbing erection.

He feels it too. Electricity. Fire. Ice. All at once. So he grinds his hips back down into you, giving you more pressure as he releases some of his. This is humanity, he thinks to himself. This is what I fear losing when I ascend.

He stops that thought there, buries it under the mountain of stability and refinement he’s been trained to put in its place.

“Fuck,” you hiss.

Hoseok releases your wrists, looking at your blown out pupils. He expects you to move away, but as your arms fall from over your head, they find hold on his biceps, steadying yourself as you move with each other.

“You owe me yours,” you say breathlessly and Hoseok laughs, his voice light and airy in his chest.

“You just want to know my dirty thoughts,” he teases and you dig your nails into his biceps, pinching him in warning.

More. I need more. Before all of this is gone.

He laughs again at the challenge. “Okay, okay, fine. If I dream of freedom like you, I dream of excitement. Sailing away to cities we know nothing of, learning about the people there. Dancing different dances in the street and eating foods I never would have thought I would taste. Losing days to pleasure instead of deciding what treaty needs to be signed, what law approved. Lazy mornings where I lick every inch of my lover.”

Hoseok leans in then and as if he is pulling you into his dream, licks a long strip down your neck, the salty dampness thrusting his hips sharper into yours. You moan.

Something in him shifts, a desperate need to hear it again. So he lathes his tongue along your neck and collarbone, sucking sharply on the skin after.

“Shit,” you rasp.

“Yes. That’s it. This is what you are missing out on, Y/N, pleasure.” He ruts against you. “I bet under those skirts you’re absolutely dripping, aren’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Then take it honey. Give yourself what you want.” He pulls back slightly, enough to keep his thigh firmly for you to use, and he sees the lust in your heavy eyelids, welcoming more of him into your orbit. He dips his head again, this time his tongue exploring the cleft between your breasts that peeks out over your dress. He hears you sigh, and hums in satisfaction.

He feels alive, not like those dinners with his family or sunsets in summer. This is different, a type of freedom he has never experienced before. Yes, he’s fucked people, he’s had fantastic sex in scandalous places, has known the thrumming of his pulse under his skin as he worked his body over another. But that was sex, and the two of you are still clothed, just exploring each other’s bodies.

It dawns on him. Is this what freedom is supposed to feel like?

He chases after the feeling, addicted now, teeth grazing along your breasts as you shiver below him, your hands leaving his biceps to pull through his hair, to cup the back of his neck to keep him steady.

“It could always be like this, if you wanted. Those sweet sighs, long days where you lie back and stare at the clouds and stars while coming undone on my mouth.” He presses back and you let him rise, where he fixes his gaze on your mouth.

You lick your lips, drawing him forward.

“We could forget the whole world and just be free,” he says, his lips resting mere millimeters away from yours.

And just as he moves in to claim them, Hoseok feels your hand on his chest, shoving him back. He recoils, pulling himself away to see your incredulous stare.

“We can’t just forget the whole world,” you say, and Hoseok takes a deep inhale, feeling the natural cold of the study quickly overtaking the heat in his body.

What happened? Weren’t you both on the same page?

“Why,” he asks. “Why not for a little while?”

“Why? Hoseok, look around us. What are we doing?”

He obeys, the gray walls of the study a dull reminder of reality. He looks back at you.

“I thought we were giving each other what we wanted,” he argues. “I thought you were finally understanding how much better things can be if you don’t keep pretending you don’t matter. Because you do.”

He takes a step forward again but you push him back again, harder.

Your face falls. “But I don’t.” You take a deep breath, pushing off the door and adjusting your dress. “Because what you are describing isn’t real. You said so yourself. It’s a dream. When we walk through those doors, you will be seated on the dais, waiting for the sun and moon to converge and to take your rightful place as a leader. And I will be standing in the crowd, watching you and my brother ascend and break this curse. I will not have the power to divide the universe for pleasure or anything else. I will go back to my kingdom, stare out at the cliff’s edge. Marry someone, maybe not the Duke, but someone and I’ll try to be happy. To live within my means. This is what the fates decided.”

Another jolt of reality slaps against him.

“Fuck the fates!” Hoseok roars, slamming his fist into the nearby bookshelf, toppling a few onto the floor. “Stop giving them this much power over us! To decide everything, to rip away the things we want!”

“Stop trying to assume you know what I want!” You yell back. “You don’t! You don’t know me! Stop trying to blame the fates for the world we live in! This is it! This is what we have. And we can’t play pretend that it could ever be any different. There are too many factors, too many risks. You said so yourself you care too much about your people to not do anything, so this feverish, desperate attempt at divorcing yourself from your reality needs to end.

“I’m sorry I fed into it even for a moment. I should have known better. I know it’s scary! I know this is fucking awful. A half an hour ago you were ready to dig your own grave over the reality of things. But that doesn’t mean we just…run from it!”

“I’m not running! Gods, I’m sorry I just wanted to find some other way to make our bleak reality feel better. So that when I walk into the Great Hall and stand before your monstrous brother, as I let my entire world shift beneath me, I could have something to ground me from what is to come. Do you feel it, too? That feeling of hope that things could be different? Of feeling alive? There’s hope in these dreams we have and–”

“And they’re dreams, Hoseok! They aren’t real!”

He feels like he’s been flayed open and then dragged through a pile of glass. He can see you drawing the curtain on yourself, going back into that hiding spot that he only just coaxed you from.

You scoff. “What, you fucking me in a field will somehow fix all of this? Suddenly I will be healed and you won’t become an immortal god slated to stop the end of the world as we know it?”

Hoseok sucks in a breath. His cheeks heat with embarrassment. Why did he let it go this far?

No, no you were just as much a part of this as him. “You didn’t seem to mind the idea of me fucking you a few minutes ago as you grinded against my thigh,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Don’t try and act like you didn’t want this too.”

“Stop! Stop assuming you know what I want!”

“Stop pretending that no one could ever understand what you want! Stop denying yourself of a life you could be living!”

Your hands clench into fists, and you close your eyes, drawing breath in and out.

“You know what Hoseok? I feel bad for you. Truly, I do. This is going to be a long road ahead and I know you feel like you don’t have a choice. But that doesn’t mean you get to choose for me. We are both imprisoned by something greater than us. Damned to be pawns in the universe’s game. But you need to get it through your head. This is fate. Like it or not. It’s time we stop dreaming about things that will never be real.”

His stomach sours, the music echoing down the hallway flooding his ears with an awful tinny ring. Somewhere inside me, the steady mountain of rock he’s steeled himself under cracks.

“Don’t say that.”

You are looking down, though he can hear from the shakiness in your voice you’re on the verge of crying again. “Dreaming is nice, isn’t it? It’s a break from reality. A moment we get to feel alive. But at some point, we have to wake up.”

“Stop.” He feels the fight leave him as the words lance from his throat, all the heaviness of the world that he’s been fated to carry bursting from him, toppling pillar after pillar, rock after rock among him.

“I’m sorry,” you cry. “This is just how it is. You have to be extraordinary. I have to be invisible.”

That goddamn phrase is like pouring acid on his open wounds. You’re doing this on purpose, he realizes. Adding to his agony and he doesn’t know why.

“Fuck you,” he spits, a knot forming in his throat as he tries to hold back his tears. “Fucking get out of my sight.”

You reach for the door handle, turning it and opening it a crack.

Bright light bursts forward, almost knocking Hoseok down. He can no longer see your face in the shock of it, just the glimmer of your gown as it captures the beams of the sun, using the very thing he will soon rule to blind him.

“I know you think you’re not worthy of this. Or that you can’t do it. But you can. I was there on your birthday. Maybe I was too good of a shadow or you were too drunk to remember. But you saw me as you snuck out, begged me not to say anything. So I didn’t. And I watched the fireworks from the window. Saw the spark that caught the fire. And Hoseok,” he can hear a smile in your voice. “At no point did I ever stop thinking it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

If there were any more rocks left in the mountain, they’ve now buried Hoseok alive under them. The fury and fight left extinguishes. With his eyes finally adjusting to the brightness, he watches you walk out of the dark study, toward the Great Hall, never looking back.

The rage that licks at him starts to fall away, the dullness of the room now more familiar and steadying.

After a few moments, he composes himself, sliding the mask of allegiance, passion, and love back into place over his crumpled spirit. You are right. This is just how it is.

When he steps into the light, a flicker of something on the wall catches his eye, and he realizes it’s a refraction of light like the ones you caused in the study. But you’re nowhere to be found in the hallway. Puzzled, he looks down at himself, his chest tightening at the realization.

The glitter of your dress has transferred onto him, a large concentration of it along his crotch, but it’s everywhere, even in his hair. In a flurry, he tries to brush it off, to not draw suspicion from other party goers about you two humping like wild animals in his father’s study. But he realizes it’s useless.

You’ve left your mark on him and he can’t get rid of it. As he catches his glimmering reflection in the window, Hoseok can’t help but think that he looks like he’s covered in stars.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok fanfic #hoseok x reader #jhope #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jung hoseok

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radiant-reid · 1 year

Note

aww about his first child :( he would probably sit them down and explain and talk about their future dates now that he has more time on his schedule.

this was just begging to be written

Spencer's scared when he knocks on Aubrey's door that evening. He's been scared for the almost six years he's been a dad-to-be and then a dad, but this is a big moment.

She's been in the dark about his career change since the decision happened, totally unaware of the major change happening in the Reid house.

She spins around from the coloring at her desk and runs over to him. "Daddy!" She squeals, throwing herself around his legs.

Spencer picks her up, wrapping her in a hug. He's so glad he's going to get this every day now. He'll get to pick her up from school, be there for dinner, and tuck her into bed.

"How was your day, Aubrey-strawberry?" He asks, moving her to his hip.

She deflates slightly, resting her head on his shoulder. "Well, Toby cried a lot." She complains about her two-week-old brother. "And then he just slept."

He nods. "All babies do that."

"Me?" She questions.

"You especially." He answers, thinking back to the weeks after she was born that he had off from work. "Can we have a talk?" He asks her.

She points to the table in her room, built by Morgan, for coloring and tea parties. Spencer sits her down on the wooden chair and sits on the one opposite her.

"Tea?" She offers him a pink plastic cup with Disney princesses on it.

"Thank you," Spencer says, pretending like there's tea as he takes a sip. "So, you know what I do for work?"

She nods eagerly. "Save people because you're a hero." She repeats.

"Mm-hmm, but I'm not going to do that anymore." He informs her. It still feels odd to say aloud, despite him handing his resignation letter to Emily and telling the team-his second family.

He's anxious about her reaction, which is confusion, a frown that he's sure mirrors his. "Why?" She asks.

Foolishly, he was hoping she wouldn't ask that, so he wouldn't have to answer, but she is his daughter. "Well, Toby's little, so I'm going to stay at home with him whenever mommy wants to go back to work."

Anticipated tears spring into her eyes and stream down her cheeks. "You didn't want to stay with me?" She worries, making his heart ache.

"No, baby, of course, I wanted to stay with you." He assures her, not about to admit he regrets not being around much when she was little. He reaches forward to wipe her tears up, holding her heated cheeks. "But this means we get lots more time together as well. I can pick you up from school each day, take you to soccer, and do lots of fun stuff." He doesn't want to bribe her, but he needs to see her smile. "We can do something fun every Friday after school, just me and you, whatever you want."

"What if you're- oh." Spencer watches it click in her head as she realizes that he's going to be there every Friday now, and every birthday, Halloween, and vacation.

He smiles when a precious smile sneaks onto her face. "Yeah, I'll be here all the time."

It's everything about their family dynamic changing and she sits with it for another moment, getting more excited as she realizes the possibilities. "So can we go to Disney?"

He laughs at the request he should have been expecting. "I'll ask mommy."

"What will you work as?" Aubrey asks curiously. He's always amazed by how quickly her brain works.

"I'm going to be a professor, but I'm not sure when." He says, and she frowns. "Like a teacher for adults, not kids. That might mean one day we get to move somewhere else."

"But you'll still be here?" She checks, like she's worried he's going to disappear back to work.

Spencer nods, getting up and reaching out for her before picking her up in a hug. "From now, I'm always going to be here."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid blurb

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equestriagirl16 · 2 years

Text

You reject Neige’s offer to transfer to RSA~🌹

“Please Y/N, you’d fit in so well at RSA!” Neige’s familair voice rang throughout the courtyard you were trotting through after another day of classes. Your friend from across the way once again, despite his best intentions, absolutely insisted that you transferred to RSA here and now. For what you figured to be the 100th time.

“Neige I already told you-”

“I know I know, but you don’t get it Y/N! NRC isn’t a place for someone like you. Your heart and soul are way too pure, you’d have so many friends and a warm welcome waiting for you at RSA. You just have to let me take you there!”

Unbeknownst to you both a few of your said NRC friends may or may not have been purposefully eavesdropping on your conversation ever since they caught wind that the little do-gooder stopped by. Secretly they feared your answer, they knew that they didn’t give you the easiest time here. Perhaps someone as kind as you would find a better place at RSA, and maybe they should try to accept that rather than fight it for your own benefit.

“No Neige! I’ve told you before and I’ll only tell you one more time. Night Raven College is my home! I don’t care how annoying or villainous anyone here may seem, they’re my friends and whether you recognize it or not they love me just as much as I love them. This is where I wound up, and I chose along time ago that this is where I belong. That’s the end of it!”

The dark haired boy was taken aback by your harshness, but stood still in an understanding silence.

“Look, you and everyone at RSA are my friends too but I already have a place right here. That doesn’t mean I can’t visit more of my favorite people in all the Wonderland from time to time though alright?”

“Ok Y/N you win no more pushing, but if you ever change your mind you know who to call.”

“Heh, don’t hold your breathe pretty boy.”

The two of you walked off and continued your random banter all the way to your dorm. How little did you know the impression you left on your friends hiding in plain sight after hearing your answer.

YELLING SCREAMING ROLLING ON THE GROUND KICKING THE AIR SWANGIN THEIR FEET GIGGLING LIKE A SCHOOL GIRL- Hell yeah that’s right!!!! Y/N isn’t going anywhere with that RSA nerd cause 🎶we are family~🎶 *cue celebratory breakdance*🕺🕺🕺. Very excited, very happy, goes and brags about it to everyone who wasn’t there and either revels in the shared joy or tries to rub in that “They stayed because of me obviously.”😎

- ACE & DUECE(they were totally spying on you together), Cater, KALIM, Ruggie, Floyd

Controlled chaos, like just vibrates in place and maybe does one fist bump in the air and a silent “YES” for good measure. Just very happy you want to stay with them by your own volition, they must be doing something right if you consider NRC your home! They would ensure you’ll continue to feel that way, and let the rest of their friends know too so hopefully they can keep up the great work as well. Mission accomplished.😌

- Trey, Jack, Ortho(the lil bestie), AZUL, RIDDLE, EPEL, Silver, Jade, Rook, Malleus, Lilia

*Casually throws aside large rock* Of course, he knew you’d choose them all along(was actually wildly insecure about your decision, and ready to MAIM-). It’s not like he was already mapping out an elaborate plan to send a search party after you and you drag you back to NRC cause he does not know how he’d live and/or function without your very presence hahaha that’s insane(*rapidly presses backspace in the group chat*). Just takes a much needed deep breath and relishes in your choice. If he felt like you still might be inclined to change your mind in the future he’d shape up his act, just a little, and only for you.

- LEONA, Jamil, VIL, JADE & FLOYD, Malleus, Lilia, Rook

WAAAAAHAHAHAHAHABA JSOSOSKAMKSLDOXOSIWGQUIAIAJAJA-oh, you’re staying? THANK THE SEVEN! Was so fucking upset we’re talking sad boi hours, depression mode on, preparing the emo music for the walk home. Had no confidence in the fact that you would deny the offer either because he knew he could do better, or you just DESERVED way better. But the fact that you were so adamant about staying literally just resurrected him from the sever cardiac arrest due to the sudden heart break. Such a drama queen, but only cause he cares about you so much!(maybe a lil too much, do I sniff a crutch?🤨)

IDIA, Sebek, MALLEUS, KALIM, Floyd

#twisted wonderland #yes malleus would indeed go through it #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #night raven college #royal sword academy #twst neige #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #scarabia #octavinelle #pomefiore #ignyhide #diasmonia #camiposts

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the-modern-typewriter · 9 months

Note

Are you planning to publish any more books in the future? other than the God Key, already finished that :D

Yes :)

Though I don't have a complete first draft of either of the next ones yet. I have a lot of projects up in the air which means that it can be slow going on any one project.

Contenders for up next, depending on what I finish first, are:

Totally WIP/not really posted anywhere...

Moonlight Drowning - girl trying to rescue her sister from a fairy king (probs king, dithering on changing to a queen), appetite, desire, I'm thinking dark romance fantasy vibes.

Say Yes - my initial idea was a fluffy contemporary ace YA romance. But honestly, I'm not a fluffy person, and I might veer adult instead. We'll see what happens.

Then there is all the Patreon stuff. These are probably the closest to actual novels at this stage.

Adrian and Demarion - gay pirates, so help me god I want it done at this stage. It's been lingering on my to do list for far too long and it's driving my nuts!

For Kingdom, Come - dark fantasy gay royal romance??? Magnus and Leo. Idk. Good prince gets captured by evil prince. Shenanigans. Currently sitting at 48,000 words. Nearing the end. It's definitely in the last act now.

The Forbidden Section - weirdly fluffy/angst/ust romance about a Dark Lord (Eiran) and the scholar the dark-magic obsessed scholar (Akira) who he blackmailed into being his apprentice. It's primarily a romance with a sprinkle of magical school/chosen one plot. Currently sitting at 52,000 words. Over halfway through. Maybe beginning of third act?

The Birthday Gift - a novella about a villain's nonbinary sidekick (Absolute Zero/Zee) who gets giving the hero (Evolution/Jason) as a birthday gift. Story spins out from there. Currently sitting at 25,000 words. Nearing the end.

Cheating Death - human (Sebastian) walks in on his human lover (Kristian) cheating on with a vampire (Ansel). He finds out that he's secretly been their mission to protect all along, because he has magical blood that can cure vampirism. Plot shenanigans and polyamory to follow. Currently sitting at 37,000 words.

And that's not getting into the WIPs that are currently sitting on my abandoned/needs serious re-work pile.

Double Exposure - f/f serial killer thriller. The first few drafts are finished, but I'm not 100% happy with it. Needs a lot of work still.

The Forever Girl - a middle grade novel about a girl (Maeve) who becomes best friends with Time after her dad dies. I think I need to spend more time with children if I'm ever going to finish that one. It's outlined and the first draft is 75% written haha.

#my novels #wips #my wips #stories #writeblr #there's also always the self pub versus do I try and trad pub debate #I love The God Key but I think it's pretty niche #anything from Patreon would be a self-pub as it's already out there

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pacifymebby · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can i request a peaky blinders x terminally ill reader. Like, they don’t want to fall in love with her because it’s like falling in love with a ticking time bomb that’s gonna leave them devastated, but she’s just so lovely they can’t help them self

So cause I'm not terminally ill and therefore can't write a totally honest view of what this would be like, im going to try. Some of them might not be 100% how u asked so sorry in advance.

Tommy

🌿 He can tell you're hiding something from him and the rest of the world from the moment he meets you, he can tell its something dark and sad, but he thinks that makes you just like him and so, if anything, it only draws him in closer to you.

🌿 He thinks you're beautiful, he likes to listen to you singing while you work down the market. He can sense that whatever your secrets are, they mean he should stay away, but even before he really falls for you he can't. You just drew him in.

🌿 I think in the case of tommy it would be you trying to keep your distance from him, putting up walls and trying not to let him too close. You don't want to hurt him, and you don't want to hurt yourself by dangling a future you know you can't have in front of yourself.

🌿 But one day Tommy gets fed up with all your defenses and kind of snaps, calmly, but still, he lets his frustration get to him all "Whyre you doing this eh darlin, its like I'm trying really, really bloody hard to get to know you but theres all these doors you keep lockin right in front of me fuckin face, every time i try to talk to you, another wall going up and up and up... Whyre you doin that? Puttin up walls eh?" he'd say it all so intensely, and so calm and soft by the end of it, so that you can see the affection and need in his eyes abd it breaks your heart...

🌿 And when you tell him whats really going on you expect him to leave but he doesn't

🌿 Because this is Tommy isn't it. So narcissistically obsessed with his own doom that if he'd really thought about it for a second he could have guessed that he was going to lose him. That any chance of happiness he had with you would be the temporary, doomed kind.

🌿 He kind of embraces the pain and punishes himself with it every day, but is also determined that you don't deserve this. Maybe he thinks he deserves to lose the love of his life as penance for his sins but you do not deserve to lose your life because some ugly man from Birmingham did some terrible things. So he'd be defiant about it, he'd love you anyway despite knowing he perhaps should try not to. He'd love you like pressing on a bruise, embracing the pain he's in whilst doing everything in his power to give youba good and happy life.

🌿 He won't leave you. He'll tell you he's not going to leave you, he'll make sure you're completely certain of that. "Its important to me darlin, that you know that right, I'm not gonna leave you, I love you and I won't stop just because of some fuckin illness yeah, i won't..."

🌿 Actually he'll straight up marry you. Even if you think thats pointless because you won't be around for very long, he'll insist that it happens. He loves you, he wants to marry you whilst youve the chance.

🌿 Blames himself for the illness, even though you were ill before you met him. In his head its like this... If you were fated to be the love of his life, then that is what doomed you to a premature death, because he needs to be punished for his sins. He thinks you were sent to punish him for his sins.

🌿 He won't tell you what he's doing but he'll keep searching for ways to heal you, things that could save your life. Even if he doesn't find any, he won't give up. He'll start fuckin praying again. He'll go sit in a church and break down, beg for your life to be spared and his taken instead.

🌿 But he won't let anyone see or know his desperation. On the outside he will mostly remain stoic.

🌿 And he'll want to take care of you every step of the way, when you're in your last days he probably won't want anyone else around, just you and him, him doting on your every need, holding you when you sleep. Always scared you won't wake up. Telling you he loves you, but more importantly showing you he loves you with every little thing he does for you.

🌿 You might try to make him promise you he'll find someone else and fall in love and have a family and all that without you and he won't mean it when he promises you that he will. But he'll promise you anything, say anything to keep you calm and content in your last days.

🌿 He won't let you see him crying, he won't be "weak" in front of you. He'll be so brave and determined even though his heart is breaking because he won't want to upset you. He'd want to preserve your happiness and comfort for as long as possible.

🌿 Rather than getting teary upset i feel like he'd express his emotions through frustration and take them out on other people. He'd probably be a lot less patient with other people, snapping at them and making rash careless decisions. His brothers would have to work extra hard to keep him "sane" and make sure he doesn't do too much damage.

Alfie

🐻 Is an "old man" well aware of his own mortality and of life, suffering and death. You're not the first terminally ill person he's met and he knows exactly what he's getting himself into by getting close to you

🐻 His friends warn him maybe once, maybe they ask him if he really thinks its a good idea, getting so close to someone who won't be around forever... But one look from alfie, one quick and cutting sentence is enough to warn them off ever asking again.

🐻 "Oh an i suppose you think you will be around forever do you Ollie?"

🐻 He's not naive, he knows its going to hurt but he's also not naive enough to believe then that it won't be worth it.

🐻 Because he adores you, your gentle ways, your soft beauty, your kindness, how sweet you are, all he ever wants to do when he sees you is hold your waist in his hands and draw you in close to him. Hold onto you and have you all to himself.

🐻 He loves you, to put it simply, and you, to put it even more simply, deserve love. Being ill, dying doesnt make you any less deserving of that love. And he has so much love for you.

🐻 "If I can't have you for as long as I live right darlin, gonna make sure you have me for as long as you live yeah, reckon that makes sense doesn't it, makes perfect sense to me poppet, yeah makes perfect sense to me..."

🐻 He'd be completely devoted to you. He'd spoil you rotten, he'd want to make sure you got to do everything you wanted to, see everything you wanted to whilst you were still able to. He'd piss everyone at the bakery off by taking all this time away, practically throwing his business away so that he could spend time with you.

🐻 Basically puts Tommy in this frustrating and stupid position where tommys no choice but to mind the bakery whilst Alfie is off with you

🐻 And then when you're really sick and getting weaker every day Alfie is by your bedside doing as much for you as he can. He doesnt want some nurse you dont know attending to you, he doesnt want you to feel alone... He only trusts himself to be able to take care of you and he probably does everyone else's head in telling them exactly how you like to be washed/dressed, exactly how to cook your food.

🐻 Much like Tommy he'd be desperately sad about whats happening to you, he'd feel his heart break a little more each day but he probably won't cry in front of you, he'll probably try to be brave for you.

🐻 Very short tempered with everyone else. He will cry but only when he's alone, honestly maybe in front of Tommy and only for a second before he composes himself again.

🐻 Writes a whole fucking opera about you as a coping mechanism.

🐻 Always wants to be holding you or touching you somehow, like hes scared to forget how it feels. Always holding your hand in his.

🐻 Likes reading you to sleep, putting records on for you. Writing music for you.

Arthur

🍂 Is devestated, can't put his feelings into words at all, can't cope with the idea of losing you.

🍂 Everyone warns him about falling for you but their warnings come too late because he already has and he adores you. He wants to spend his whole life with you and when it becomes apparent that thats never going to happen he is distraught.

🍂 He doesn't want you to live he NEEDS you to live, he can't accept things the way they are, has to believe you can survive even though deep down he knows you can't.

🍂 He gets so angry and bitter, not with you or at you but at the world and with everything else. He's angry at the illness for taking you from him, he's angry at the world for being such a cruel and unfair place.

🍂 Tries to turn to god, tries to pray, thinks that perhaps if he repents for all the bad things hes done or, if he begs god enough, he can trade with you, he can die so that you don't have to. Because "its fucked up isnt it darlin, that someone so fucking kind and good and pure can have to deal with this, whilst the rotten likes of me just go on living an fillin the world up with bad things"

🍂 Arthur doesn't have the self control his brother has, he won't hold back in front of you even if sometimes it would be kinder for him to do so. There are probably things you don't really need to hear about how cruel the world is, how unfair everything is, but he doesn't have a filter and sometimes when his emotions get the better of him he just spills it all.

🍂 He will cry in front of you, you'll hold him whilst he sobs into your chest and breaks down. Then apologises because "you shouldn't have to be dealin with this, I should be being the fuckin strong one.."

🍂 Takes a lot of his emotions out in the ring and they probably have to try and stop him from going there because the damage he will do with all these enotions coursing through him could be deadly.

🍂 He would get more and more unstable the more ill you got, unable to cope with whats happening. But he'd so desperately want to be a good husband to you. He'd beg Polly and his sister for help, asking them for advice. Polly would probably be his rock here, giving him advice, giving him a hug when he needs one, a slap and a shake when he needs to snap out of it and be there for you.

🍂 She'd help him take care of you, teach him how to look after you, how to be gentle when he's taking care of you.

🍂 At the point that you're too weak to get out of bed he'd lie with you or sit with you whenever he could, he wont give you peace talking to you about everything thats been happening, nervous talking too because he doesnt like the silence. But you like listening to him ramble about everything.

🍂 You also like the fact that no ones worried about talking of peaky business in front of you so you get all of the gossip.

🍂 He won't be particularly articulate but he'll tell you he loves you constantly.

🍂 Brings you little gifts of food and sweet treats all the time. Makes you food his mam woulda made him when he was sick as a child.

John

🌼 John seems so happy go lucky, laidback, still such a child at heart and you're drawn to him because of that. Admiring him from afar, falling in love with his laughter and that cheeky grin. Torturing yourself because hes something you just cant have.

🌼 You don't want to let yourself near him because you don't want to take that carefree nature away from him or taint him with the side effects of your illness, the stress anxiety and torment which seems to taint everyone you get close to these days.

🌼 But John has been in love with you since the second he laid eyes on you and he's determined to ignore your warnings about staying away from him.

🌼 As far as he's concerned you deserve to be loved, whether or not you have the potential to break his heart or not. Technically - and this is an argument he comes up with all the time - technically, everyone has the potential to break everyones heart, he could get shot and killed tomorrow before anythings even really happened to you. He could fall in love with some other lass and she could get hit by a car or die in some sudden accident. "Just because you're really ill flower, doesn't mean I shouldn't love you. Doesn't make you not worth loving... If anything it means you should be loved twice as hard now... I've got a whole lifetimes worth of love to give you so better not to keep stalling... "

🌼 His family think hes impulsive but he marries you almost imediately. Youre the love of his life and he wants to spend as much time as he possibly can being your husband.

🌼 He would want you to have the best possible life you could, even if it was only short so he'd take you travelling to see all the places you wanted to see. He'd help you do all the things you wanted to do before you died.

🌼 He'd do his best to keep up his usual ray of sunshine persona, still being boyish and charming, always teasing you, always trying to make you smile. Out of all the peaky men John is the one who treats you least like you're terminally ill. He isn't quite so obsessed with being careful with you or treating you like you're delicate. He lets you make the "I'm going to die anyway" joke sometimes when it comes to you doing unwise things like drinking/smoking or going for a ride.

🌼 He wants to keep you laughing and smiling for as long as he possibly can

🌼 When you get more sick and you begin to grow weaker he does struggle more, he doesnt like seeing you look so unwell, so in pain. He wants to be with you all the time but he doesn't want you to see him get upset.

🌼 He goes to Ada for support and she lets him hug it out or cry to her. She'd give him the love actually advice of "cheer up, no ones gonna shag you if you cry all the time" type of joking advice which is exactly what he needs to keep his head up and stay strong for you.

🌼 He too would want to be there for you and help care for you everyday even if he doesn't really know what hes doing. If he couldn't help he'd hold your hand and reassure you.

Bonnie

🍀 He's heartbroken when he finds out, naturally, no one wants the person they love to suffer, however

🍀 Rather than get too caught up in how long you have left together, Bonnie feels blessed just to have you at all and he's determined to love you for as long as he can.

🍀When he tells you this, "I love you little dove, all this love aint goin anywhere just cause you are, I'll love you my whole life I know I will..." "But you shouldn't Bon its going to hurt you so much, I'm gonna cause you so much sufferin an you don't deserve that..." "You don't deserve to be alone though do ye? And I'm tough dove, I can survive," he'd make a show of flexing his biceps to prove how strong he is and try to make you laugh.

🍀 Like John he's determined to keep you happy and smiling for as long as he can. He'll make jokes, he'll tell you how beautiful you are, how loved you are. He'll keep telling you all these things even when your light does begin to fade.

🍀 He spends as much time with you as he possibly can. Being a hopeless romantic he'll definitely want to marry you.

🍀His own mother died when he was young and his father's already been through this, Aberama would be a little torn, he'd want his son to be happy and so he wouldn't want him devoting his life to a woman who's going to leave him so soon, but he'd also want his son to be happy which means letting him devote his life to you.

🍀 Bonnie would try to be brave, he would try not to cry in front of you, and though he might not shed any actual tears, you can tell when he does want to cry, when he's upset his jaw tenses and he gets this far away misty look in his eyes.

🍀He wants to give you everything in the whole wide world but he doesn't have the time, he wants to make you proud of him so he's extra determined to win all his fights and train hard... But sometimes he also just, can't see the point? What does fighting matter, what does being the champion of the world matter when the love of his life is going to have to leave him so soon.

🍀When you get restless he wraps you up warm and takes you off on horseback to the middle of nowhere where the two of you can get some peace. He helps you bathe in the creeks and rivers, lies with you wrapped in blankets under the redwood trees.

🍀When you're ill he wants to be the one to take care of you, to nurse you, to help feed and bathe you. He won't leave your side for a second and he'll really piss Tommy Shelby off by refusing fights and refusing to work. He doesnt care if his life or future is threatened. Nothings getting between him and you now.

🍀 Sings for you whenever you ask, tries to make up little stories for you. Is still determined to make you laugh/smile whenever he can, even when you're very weak.

🍀 Always bringing you flowers and pretty things he finds for you outside when you're too weak to go exploring with him.

🍀 Holds you every night when you're going to sleep, lies awake listening to you breathing determined that you'll wake up again in the morning. Kisses your hair/forehead/temple and hands all the time.

Isaiah

🐀He loves you before he knows youre terminally ill and you're affraid to tell him because you don't want him to leave.

🐀Everyone can see him falling for you, he's not exactly subtle about it - and that fact alone means he must be falling really hard for you. He asks after you all the time, he's always abandoning his friends when he's out if he sees you, choosing to waste his time talking to you instead.

🐀And regretfully it's Michael who ends up telling him about your condition. When he finds out he does get scared. He panics and doesn't know what to do.

🐀He doesn't want to lose you, but he doesn't want to get too close... The problem is he already has feelings for you and he can't just turn them off. In fact he knows full well that even if he'd known from the second he saw you at the Garrison he wouldn't have been able to stop himself falling in love with you because you're perfect. You're his perfect girl and he would never have been able to ignore you.

🐀So he backs away a little, he tries to fall out of love but he struggles and, just as he was expecting he fails. If anything trying to pull away from you only makes him more certain of his adoration for you. He loves you. He's so sure of that now.

🐀You aren't stupid, you notice him pulling away and trying to seperate from you and though it makes you sad you're not surprised and you can't say you dont completely understand.

🐀 So you try to tell him that, you try to speak to him gently, try to tell him exactly whats wrong with you, roughly how long you have left. And he listens and tries not to get upset and does quite a good job, then when you say "it's alright Isaiah i understand... If you dont want to stay I understand..." thats when he gets upset

🐀 He gets angry, upset with you for not valuing yourself more, for accepting that someone might not want to love you. But mostly he's angry at himself because even this little argument is wasted time he could have spent holding you, kissing you, telling you how much he adores you.

🐀"No don't you dare say that, don't you dare pretend that this is fuckin fine or that you understand, I've been so fucking selfish love, you deserve to be loved and I don't fuckin deserve you because for a second I was too busy thinkin bout me fuckin self to think about you and what you need!"

🐀And from there on out hes unshakable and so stubborn about loving you, he spends as much time with you as he possibly can. He tells you he loves you like a hundred times a day.

🐀Michael and his friends can't understand whats gotten into him, he asks him one day if he doesn't think he's "wasting" his time and Isaiah has to try not to get angry. Because thats a cruel way of putting it even if thats not how it was intended to be.

🐀"Course I'm not wasting my time, she's the only good use of my time... This is the only important thing i think I've ever done with me life, you know... Loving her like... If it were you in my position you'd understand, it'd be the same for you..." "but you coulda... You know chose not to be in your position..." "nah" says Isaiah, "i couldnt have chosen anything, s'not a choice mate, i just love her and always have..."

Michael

☘️ He definitely experiences "love at first sight" which is something he didn't really believe in before. But when he sees you he's swept away by your beauty and he knows, just knows, youre the girl hes supposed to fall in love with.

☘️ He tries to pursue you and you don't really take him very seriously because he's michael gray and hes got a reputation about him when it comes to the ladies. You think he just wants a one night stand and so you flirt back and laugh him off and tease him until he ends up confessing everything to you in a desperate attempt at getting you to take him seriously.

☘️ But then he's confessed everything to you, so now you have to tell him something too, thats you've an incurable illness. At first he doesn't understand and you have to spell it out to him. "It means I'm going to die Michael... And much sooner than you will..."

☘️ His first instinct is anger, he feels upset and betrayed that you didn't tell him straight away but this quickly subsides because he isn't really angry, hes heartbroken.

☘️ "If you were to ask my advice I'd say you should go off and find yourself a different girl," you smirk, youre only joking and actually if he were to follow that advice you'd be heartbroken, and pissed off too.

☘️ But Michael is two things : a gentleman and desperately in love with you.

☘️ So he just smirks and shakes his head, "forgive me love but i dont think you give very good advice..."

☘️ He knows how much its going to hurt but he keeps telling himself he's been through worse. He hasnt but he deludes himself with this notion so that he can stay strong for you.

☘️ He won't show you how upset he is about it unless really pushed to, perhaps nearer the end he'll break down, unable to hold it in and stay strong... But for the most part he is determined not to show weakness or to let you feel sad or despairing. He wants to reassure you all the time that everything will be alright and you don't need to be scared.

☘️Cries a lot in secret. Cries to his mother about it. Pol tries her best to support the both of you but its difficult watching her son have his heart ripped out. Difficult too watching you have yours ripped out.

☘️ Sometimes you wish you hadn't fallen in love because knowing what you're going to leave behind now makes the thought so much more painful. When you talk to Michael about it though he puts on his brave face and offers you all the reassurance in the world. Tells you you'll meet eachother again one day. Jokes he might not even be that far behind you. You hate it when he jokes like that though and he often does it just to wind you up, just to get you to play hit him and lighten your mood.

☘️ He'd organise the best private care for you, go with you to all your doctors appointments and try to keep as much of it under control as possible. He'd want you to try any cure they threw at you and there probably would be arguments about it if you didn't want to try something. In the end though he'd always put your wants above his own and listen to you.

☘️ Michaels quite a serious and sullen lad but he doesn't want you to feel serious or sullen so he often has to force himself out of his over thinking moods and into a more lighthearted one. All he wants to do is keep you smiling and hopeful.

#peaky blinders headcanon #bonnie gold x reader #peaky blinders imagines #tommy shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray x reader #isaiah jesus x reader

319 notes · View notes

bat-stuff · 1 year

Note

Damian Wayne headcanons: “Totally can make girls swoon as long as he’s not standing next to Damian (we’ll talk about Damian’s body and pretty boy features in another post)”, can we get that post discussing Damian’s pretty boy features and how he most likely gets the most people coming after him thx to his perfect mix of Talia and Bruce’s genes (Talia’s brown skin color, her green cat shaped eyes w/long eyelashes, Bruce’s face (tho I headcanon the older dami gets the more he physically resembles Talia until the resemblance is uncanny, or he grows to become a perfect match of both his parents facial features), hairline (unless dami grows his hair out a little more in the future), the Wayne charm etc.)????????? Also how the others (Collin, Jon, & Billy) attractive looks attract others as well?????

Honestly, I totally forgot that Tumblr existed for a while so thess are way overdue. But here we go.

Also, excuse Damian's for being hella long but I've had a lot of time to think about Damian

Ok I also have a feeling that I haven't mentioned this before ...

All my content for these boys is aged up, which means they aren't a gaggle of 12 year olds. I'm imagining them between the ages of 16 and 18 unless otherwise stated.

DAMIAN WAYNE, JON KENT, COLIN WILKES, AND BILLY BATSON FEATURES HEADCANONS

--------

DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian has green eyes, I know people will argue and say he has blue but his eyes are definitely a dark mossy green.

Though they definitely have the capability of changing color in the sunlight, they light up and turn into lighter shades depending on the lighting and time of day, but personally I think they are a dark mossy green.

I don't want to spend too much time on Damian's eyes but for example, in Gotham they tend to be darker because of the atmosphere, whereas when Damian goes to see Jon in Metropolis, they'll be lighter shades because of the sunlight

He 100% has Talia's eyes, and facial structure. I can see him having more of Bruce's features, but his facial and body structure is closer to Talia.

Strong jawline but softer than Bruce's. Damian looks a bit like Bruce but not as sharp, so to speak. His face is slimmer and more rounded, his eyes are more pointed and are sharper but Bruce's are wider.

Bruce is ruggedly handsome, Damian is flawlessly pretty.

Damian's body structure is closer to Talia's too.

I don't see Damian really being able to pack on muscle mass in the future like Bruce. As Damian gets older his body structure looks a lot like Dick's, he's very well fitted.

He does have nice biceps tho. To the point where when he moves you could feel the muscle flex underneath if you were touching them

(If you haven't experienced this personally with anyone, I highly suggest it. Biceps are hot.)

He doesn't have thick thighs like Jason, but he's still very muscular. Sometimes it's hard to tell unless he's flexing, he's not busting out of his clothes, but he is quite strong.

On to other features, Damian isn't white.

I think we've all established it by now but just to make sure.

His skin is a lot like Talia's, light olive skin. Though, in the summer, if Damian gets even the smallest ounce of light he tans instantly. I'm the winters in Gotham, one might mistake him for white because his skin is lighter but once he's put next to Tim it's easy to see that he's not.

Damian has perfect eyebrows. Nothing else needs to accompany this. His eyebrows are flawless.

Ok, so hair. Another thing I've seen some disagreement on.

I believe Damian's hair is Black, like Bruce. But unlike Bruce it's not coarse and heavy. It's light, wispy and soft. When he was younger at the manor he used to gel it up, but now that he's older he's come to realize that it'll just go wherever he wants and it will be fine.

Damian's voice, which I've kinda already covered, is wide range. He can sound like a little girl or Corpse. He generally leans towards a deeper voice, it vibrates a little so if he's talking while you're touching him in some way you can feel the grumble.

He hums a lot. Not musically, but in response to things. He's taken up a habit of humming into words, like saying "mkay" instead of "okay".

I strongly believe that Damian doesn't laugh, he chuckles. Deep, hearty chuckles that make anyone whose near stop and listen to him laugh. He also snickers and sharply exhales through his nose to make that snorting/snickering sound, I don't know what it's called but I think you can guess what I'm talking about.

Damian doesn't have veiny hands, sorry to disappoint. But his hands are very soft for being a swordsman. His skin is very smooth and he doesn't have many imperfections. No birthmarks because of the Artificial Womb, courtesy of Talia.

Not me going back to his eyes, but he squints a lot. Out of confusion, anger, just looking at something, disgust. His eyes generally take the shape of siren eyes, so it doesn't look unnatural that he gives people sharp looks unintentionally.

His lips are on the thinner side but are still soft. Boy definitely uses chapstick. He doesn't have a big mouth or a little one, he's very well proportioned.

Probably has a plump bottom lip tho

Many know this but he frowns a lot. It's not because he's upset, but it's his thinking face. His eyebrows scrunch together when he's doing this too. If he's thinking about something unpleasant his nose with wrinkle. When Damian's thinking hard he looks very confused and upset.

Nicely shaped abs. He has a long torso

HELLA PRETTY SHOULDERS AND BACK MUSCLES MY GUY

Smells like pine needles and sandalwood. Definitely a rich person scent that's strong but not overpowering.

-----------

BILLY BATSON

Figured I would start with Billy because if we're ranking them, he's the second prettiest.

Personal opinion but you'll see what I mean.

So Billy's eyes are brown. Like a dark, chocolate brown.

Some people might say "Well in the dcau and Young Justice they're blue" but I have a personal belief that they're brown. How many blue eyed superheroes and children of superheroes are there? Too many. They're brown.

In the sun they turn into a dark honey color

DEFINITELY has light freckles across his cheeks, I mean really light tho. You would have to be pretty close to him to see them

Billy's hair is soft, and medium brunette.

it's sort of straight, but kinda wavy

the length of it depends on the season, for instance in the summer he has it cut shorter in the back. But in the winter he lets it grow out a bit more

The skinniest of the bunch but it suits him

He's not SKINNY tho, I mean he's being compared to Superboy, Batman's son, and a Gym Rat Gothamite, cut the little guy some slack

Billy has very slender, lean build. Most likely doesn't have Damian-level muscle but he's still easy on the eyes shirtless

Billy has a a bit of a lopsided smile that sometimes expresses laziness

Teeth smile 100%

He has that sort of soft handsome look

Where Damian is very sharp and defined Billy is smooth

He has softer cheek bones (squishy cheeks) and a defined yet round jawline

Billy has thinner lips

I'm not sure how to describe them honestly

Very calm deep voice, deepest voice of the bunch, adding on to this I imagine that he likes to sing and is the best vocalist in the group

His laugh, contrast to Damian, is boisterous and very open mouthed. He's loud and sometimes it sounds like a cackle, but most of the time Billy has a charming laugh that fills the room

Billy almost smells sugary with a hint of linen. Like warm bed sheets but they were washed next to a bakery.

(He once accidentally stole Mary's Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion and now has this sort of addiction to cherry scented things)

Honestly, Billy smells like a lot of things all the time, so the best description is that he smells very warm and sweet

Boy is part of the super soft hands club

Long. Freaking. Eyelashes.

Like, they might tickle you when you kiss him long

(This isn't a romance headcannon but he would be a great person to kiss, OOOH NEXT POST IDEA)

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

JON KENT

Ok so on to Jonathan

So our boys eyes are a sky blue

An open sky in the country, and where some eyes have grey tones, Jon's don't

Dark, black hair that has a loose curl to it

A lot of times it hangs down in his eyes so he developed a tendency to play with his hair

He has one of those headbands that comb/hold back your hair, and he wears it a lot

Wouldn't wear it around the guys, there's no way Colin wouldn't make a little fun of him for it. Damian honestly wouldn't care and Billy would probably buy one once he sees Jon wear it

He has pretty fair skin, but tans often due to being in the Sun at the farm a lot.

Has tan lines on his wrist and ankles from bracelets, he's that kind of guy

I mentioned in a previous post that Jon isn't really big on sweating so our boy probably always smells very clean

His scent is lemony with a hint of linen.

Not that the other boys don't smell clean, Jon is just less musky

Jon us bulkier than Damian and Billy, but smaller than Colin.

Another member of the super soft hands club, as well as the pretty shoulders club

he has a soft voice, but it also holds a lot of energy. He talks fast

the highest pitched voice of the bunch, and for the longest time was slightly squeaky.

lovely sounding voice, can't sing for shit tho. Hes a bit tone deaf.

has DEFINED dimples, the king of dimples

always has a content look on his face, looks and is incredibly friendly

I have a feeling Jon doesn't have completely straight teeth, but still a beautiful, toothy smile

he isn't a mouth breather but has a habit of staring at people with his mouth open a bit.

kinda like a goldfish

lip biter (In the cute/hot way)

(ok so my best comparison for Jon is Dave Lizewski from Kick-Ass. I feel like they would have similar energy. I feel like he and Jon would sound similar as well.)

Toned abs. He doesn't even try, they just happen

nice arms, not super huge but you can visibly see the muscle

His entire vibe is secretly buff nerd boy

loves his glasses, only takes them off when he suits up

they're the round-ish square ones with the iron rim (Dave Lizewski glasses)

sharp jawline, but has a square face

Pouty, thick lips

Jon has fairly big hands, and skinny fingers.

Slightly veiny hands

Has never had a lick of acne in his life so incredibly clean face

Definitely a pretty boy

----------

COLIN WILKES

Colin is definitely the scraggiliest of the 4

Silly ginger boy

Has straight-ish hair but probably got a perm at some point and it kinda worked for him so he's recently discovered that if he puts stuff in his hair and takes care of it right he has some natural wave

Puppy dog brown eyes that look like melted chocolate

Used to have freckles but they faded as he got older so you only see them if you're extra close

Colin had the widest smile of the group

Never had braces because he couldn't afford it so his teeth are a bit uneven

But they were significantly worse when he was a middle schooler so he's glad they figured themselves out a bit

BIG BOY

THE BIGGEST BOY

This dude has the broadest shoulders of the group, the thickest thighs, the meatiest arms.

Colin is built like a tank

Has the veiniest hands, and they never go away. Just constant veins

Is ALWAYS smirking/smiling.

Has a look on his face that always makes it seem like he'd done something bad and he's proud of it

Obviously he hasn't but it somehow lands him in trouble 9/10 times

Colin is the palest of the group, not just because he roasts like a turkey in the son but because he obviously lives in Gotham, where sunlight doesn't exist

Like Billy, his lips are on the thinner side, but they're NEVER chapped. Loves chapstick, probably would eat it

Colin has a fairly round face, when he was younger he had huge gigantinormous ears, but by 15 he had grown into them

If any of the boys had a glow up it was Colin, he went from Kiddo to Daddy within a summer

Smells like grass and mahogany. Also lysol. Sometimes leather. It depends on what time of day it is.

In the morning, it's lysol and leather because that's when he goes to the gym. But after he showers it's mahogany and like Irish spring. But by the end of the day, for some reason he smells like grass and no one can figure out why

Colin's just kinda strange

His voice is lower than Jon's, but slightly higher than Billy's. (When he's Abuse his voice is much, much deeper)

It's rumbly

Has the best morning voice

When Colin laughs, it's a cackle. He sounds like a hyena

Definitely has toned muscles. The most defined muscles of the group

Has ENORMOUS hands

Rough and calloused from weightlifting but the rest of him is fairly soft

Rougher face because he shaves, puberty hit him HARD

He's not pretty, he's hot

349 notes · View notes

zooophagous · 2 months

Text

Grey filtered light crept into the room softly, by degrees. Artemis crinkled her nose and shut her eyes tight as it gradually replaced the comfortable darkness. She opened her eyes and let out a startled gasp- only to shut her eyes and inhale in annoyance at her own reflex. Strauss lay facing her in bed, still sleeping deeply. In his “dream state,” as he referred to it. It wasn’t quite the same as being asleep, though he did report dreams.

His eyes were slitted open slightly, though glassy and sightless. His thin lips were retracted to show the tips of his fangs. The muzzle had come off at some point in the evening. He looked older like this, and as much as she hated to admit it- quite ugly, when he wasn’t able to disguise his appearance with polite mannerisms.

She slid out of the bed and into her pajama pants. Strauss was still nude, and she would leave him to sleep. He’d need it. She took the comforter and draped it over his prone form, protecting him from whatever sunlight might come in through the window.

Sufficiently robed, she quietly exited and softly shut the door behind her. Hopefully auntie wouldn’t go poking around and ask any awkward questions about why Mr. Strauss was in the wrong bed. Auntie, for her part, was blessedly silent. Her pain medications had locked her in a deeper dream state than Strauss’ own, and Artemis found herself in possession of a rare gem: A moment to be alone in peace.

This called for a celebration. Coffee would have to do for it. In their anxious hunt for supplies, they had forgotten sugar and cream, so it would have to be choked down without niceties. She brewed her cup and sipped it piping hot. The heat wrecked her taste buds and burned all the way down. At least she couldn’t taste how bitter it was like that. And honestly, something about the pain was therapeutic. Better to externalize that sort of thing. Better on the tongue than on the brain.

“Don’t drink it all, dear. I’ll need it if I’m going to shoot straight.”

Ursula yawned and toddled into the room to claim her own cup.

“Mornin’.” Artemis nodded at her aunt. “How do you feel? How’s the leg?”

“Bad. As always. But I did at least get some sleep. Are you about ready to go?”

“I can be very shortly. Not like there’s a lot to pack. Where exactly are we headed?”

“I found an affordable hotel a little closer to the city. Would be a decent place to park a car and start looking for Mr. Cunningham. I’ve managed to speak to a few of our operatives. Most of the clerical staff have been released, but none of the slayer team or security wing has been heard from. Officially they’re still missing persons, the fire department is looking for bodies.”

She sighed heavily. “With any luck, they won’t actually find any bodies and the team members are still alive somewhere. But you know, it was a very nasty fire.”

“I’ll say. Their families must be losing their shit. Have the released operatives started talking to anyone? Police?”

“The ones I’ve spoken to are quite insistent they haven’t blabbed to anyone about anything. Personally I think it’s because I’m still scarier than the Witchfinders.” Ursula smirked.

“What about us? I suppose we’re missing persons too at this point.”

“Yes, and presumed dead. The building itself is currently sectioned off and not safe to enter. Luckily it seems most of the library survived, but the rest of it is a near total loss. That medical wing is going to be very difficult to replace.”

“Assuming we’ll even replace it. Assuming the Institute even has a future.”

“It does have a future.” Ursula set her mug down with an authoritative clunking sound. “So long as I’m around, and the director is around-” She poked her finger at Artemis’ chest, “-There is an Institute, and it has a future. It’s just not clear what kind of future yet.”

“I wish I could be so sure.”

“Break it down into manageable steps. One task at a time. First things first we get to town, find a few emergency bolt holes, collect who we can and try to keep our people from getting hurt any more than they already have been.”

“If I turn myself over they might barter for the release of the slayer team-”

“Absolutely not. I’ll give them Strauss before I give them you.”

“Strauss isn’t yours to give. But something tells me he’d also give himself up before letting me take responsibility for my own mess.” She groaned and rubbed her face.

“Our mess, dear. Don’t take credit for all my hard work.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The two women froze. Artemis felt her heart plunge into her stomach and radiate a sour coldness through her body.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Ursula set her jaw and let out a stiff sigh through her nose.

“I suppose that’s the door.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s too bad.” She shook her head. “I really hoped we’d have a little more time.”

“What do we do?”

“We cooperate. We’re not in any shape to fight at this point and even if we tried, we’d only make it worse.”

Ursula made her way to the front door. A male figure darkened the window. “Stay behind me dear. If they come in shooting I’d rather it be me.”

She opened the door carefully and blinked in confusion at the not so strange face that appeared on the doorstep. A ruddy face, haloed in white hair. Neatly dressed and smiling.

“... Vicar Martin?” She stuttered. “You’re here? Have the Witchfinders exhausted their supply of fighting personnel already?”

“Miss Harker. I wish I could say it was good to see you, but the circumstances really could be better.”

“How did you find us? Did someone rat us out? Where are the guns? The police? The navy?” Ursula craned her head to see past his shoulder. Vicar Martin only laughed in reply.

“No, just me. You were expecting maybe Mel Brooks? Can I come in?”

“I feel like I ought to pat you down for weapons first.” Ursula quipped, but stood aside to let him in. “What do you want?”

“Believe it or not Miss Harker, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m sure you’re having a hard time believing that, but I’m here to warn you. All three of you are in very real and pertinent danger.”

“Not as much danger as you.”

A deep voice snarled from the stairwell. Strauss descended with a jump and landed heavily in the foyer, making the floor shake. He stuck his landing and stood on his feet, bristling in front of the vicar, teeth bared, and still completely stark nude.

“Oh DEAR GOD!” Martin put up a hand in surrender and covered his eyes with his other hand. “Why… why are you naked?”

“Why are you here?” Strauss tilted his head. “You have a moment to answer before I literally disarm you.”

Artemis stood in open mouth shock. Ursula turned bright red and began to sputter.

“MISTER STRAUSS! I can’t… why… just…”

“It’s ok Luther.” Artemis found her voice in the chaos, and used his first name to distract him from his own rage. “Vicar Martin isn’t with them.”

“For his sake, that had better be true.” Strauss hissed. “You haven’t said why you’re here. Very foolish to follow a scared vampire, Martin. Animals are more dangerous when cornered.”

“Just… give me a moment. I’ll explain, I just need a minute to collect my thoughts.” Martin let out an exasperated sigh and pointedly avoided eye contact. “I wasn’t expecting to see a vampire’s penis today.”

“You are one of the privileged few. Enjoy it.” Strauss sneered.

“You should get some pants on Strauss. We’ll all talk about this together when you’re dressed. Now, please?” Artemis asked shakily.

“The Van Helsing Institute has poked and prodded at my nude form at its leisure for this long. When I appear nude of my own free will it is a problem. I see how it is.” He snorted, but still made his way up the stairs to find a pair of pants. Artemis’ gaze lingered a moment on his backside but she quickly corrected herself to talk to the vicar.

“Sorry. He ah… he sleeps nude and he must have heard you come in. Let’s talk over coffee? Please.”

“Right.” Martin followed her into the kitchen. “Your pet vampire is very protective of you. That’s a good thing.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. You’ll hurt his feelings.” Ursula snorted. “If you are not here to throw us in the clink, what is it you do want?”

“I am here to warn you.” He looked at her very seriously. “Miss Harker. The violence perpetrated upon the institute was not something I recommended, or approved of. The Witchfinders have already overstepped their boundaries and then some, but I doubt they plan on stopping just because they get a disciplinary notice in the mail. And real help may come too late.”

“Tell us something we don’t know.” Ursula rolled her eyes and set to work dusting off a mug to pour the poor frazzled vicar a coffee. “I suppose if you can find us it’s only a matter of time before the Witchfinders do.”

“Yes. It was a bit foolhardy to move into a property that still has your name on it and expect to stay hidden.”

“What choice did we have?” Artemis asked. “It’s not like there are a lot of dedicated shelters for homeless vampires.”

“That is true. And your list of supporters has recently shrunk.” Martin sipped his bitter coffee and settled at the table.

“A creature of the night is used to operating with very few friends.” Strauss’ voice crept up the vicar’s spine and made him shudder. The vampire reappeared, mercifully dressed. He was now a little overly covered, draped in a blanket over his head and shoulders to hide from the light pouring in from the kitchen windows.

“You aren’t entirely without friends. Without staff, maybe, but what happened back at the institute… the raid, the arson…” He shook his head. “It isn’t what this is supposed to be about. Even if you were a dangerous creature- not saying I think that’s true- abducting all of those people and nearly killing several more with fire and flashbangs is hardly the way to neutralize a single threat.”

“So you claim to be on our side?” Strauss asked coolly.

“I didn’t say that. I need to finish my own personal investigation first. I told you before I am not your enemy, I’m not here to try to trap you or trick you. But I do need to be an impartial judge. And I simply must ask, therefore, Mr. Strauss.” Martin turned and made very tense eye contact with the vampire.

“Did you kill Gregor White?”

It was Strauss’ turn to feel uncomfortable. He broke eye contact.

“No. Gregor White saved my life. I owed him a debt. I would not have harmed him.”

“Why is he dead? Why does it look like a vampire did it?”

“A vampire very likely did. He was on Sylvain Pietra’s hit list.”

“And you know this how?”

“She told me. She tried to feed him to me. I refused.”

“So you have been associating with her? A known murderess, and shortly thereafter White is dead, and you claim you have nothing to do with it?”

“If you must know.” Strauss bristled. “I was assisting with YOUR investigation when it happened. I took the initiative to find Sylvain when your ilk could not, and question her about the male victim found in the park. It was both easier and safer for me to attempt to interrogate her than any human vampire hunter. I stuck my own neck out for your sake.”

“And Gregor White wound up dead?”

“Yes. I regret it. I tried very hard to prevent it. At the cost of my own skin. I am sure if you searched his apartment you found a good deal of my DNA on the floor. I was sloughing it off quite liberally when he let me use his bathroom.”

“Was it a fruitful venture then, Strauss? Did Gregor’s death at least give you any information about the case?”

“Ehh. Yes and no. Sylvain told me she was not responsible for the death of the young man found in the park.”

“And you believed her?”

“She had no reason to lie to me.”

“So she’s innocent of that murder, but guilty of killing Gregor?”

“It would appear so.”

“Your story seems very flimsy and unlikely.”

“Your neck seems very flimsy you accusing underhanded little-”

“Strauss.” Artemis interrupted. “He’s right. This entire thing looks very bad for us. It will look even worse if you tell the only impartial observer in all of this that you have a violent temper.”

“Apologies.” Strauss pinched the bridge of his nose and folded himself into a chair, looking defeated. “I am very tired and under a good deal of stress and I am very upset at having to continuously defend myself. Asking to exist peacefully should not be treated like an unreasonable request.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Mr. Strauss.” Martin folded his hands. “I don’t actually think you are the killer of either party.”

“No?”

“If you truly were a violent monster, and these two women under your unholy sway, you would have fallen on me and torn me to pieces as soon as you saw I was alone instead of inviting me in for coffee.” Martin sipped his now room temperature drink.

“I told you before and I repeat it now. I am not your enemy. I’m on the side of the truth. Whether it comes from a smiling priest or a snarling vampire is not my concern.”

“So what do we do now?” Ursula interjected.

“Our church runs a halfway house in the city. It’s been closed for renovations for some time, but it is most of the way habitable. You’ll need to pardon our dust a bit, but your name isn’t on it and nobody will be expecting us to shelter you. Officially, I’m supposed to be helping with the effort to track and capture you.”

“It will do. We can leave immediately and we should.” Ursula pushed herself up from the table to gather her things. “I do have a question for you Emille. Have you… heard anything about anything else being captured from the institute?”

“If you’re referring to the lycan, no. He’s still at large. Still considered a dangerous, kill-on-sight target. He’s not the big ticket item. It’s Strauss they really want, but if they see your friend they will kill him for revenge.”

“He is alive. That is all I care about.” Strauss turned and faced the vicar. “I have misjudged you, Vicar Martin. Vielen dank für die hilfe.” He extended a claw to the vicar to shake.

“No dead mice this time?”

“Not unless you want one.”

The two locked hands in a firm shake. Ursula set her mug in the sink.

“It’s settled then. Grab your things. I’ll start the car.”

#wayward souls #writing

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