#apologies to anyone who read all of this with their eyeballs

[holylottie]

Aching bones, aching teeth [02]

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x afab!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — 1996, you pass your last moments on your hometown before heading to nationals.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 02 — between letters and lies

1996

Charlotte Matthews was born on a cold morning, at exactly 9:46 a.m., and her cries were so loud that the patients six floors above knew that a new life had arrived.

And Charlotte's childhood continued in the same way as it began: with a lot of loud crying. She was always scolded a lot, which is why she hardly cried these days, but there were two people in the world she could rely on to dry her tears.

One of them was extremely close, her childhood best friend, while the other, her grandmother, was still enjoying her retirement: traveling all over the globe. Charlotte tried not to miss her so much (tried not to feel so angry) but it was almost impossible; her grandmother raised her, the only one who gave her affection - and the only one who accepted her after the anniversary tragedy.

Lottie's house was huge and freezing, extremely cold during the winters and with a relaxing breeze during the summers, as if several ghosts were blowing eternally through the walls. As a little girl, Charlotte swore she could hear them.

Today, the only sound in her house was of shells hitting each other, a wind chime that you and her made when the voices in Lottie's head were almost unbearable.

Charlotte went downstairs, looking for one of her parents, but all she saw was the piano in the living room, quiet as a child. 

Oh God, she's never seen a quiet child, she's never been one to begin with, maybe that's why she doesn't have any siblings —she sucked all the energy out of her parents before they could give her some company. 

The girl huffed, crossing her arms as she looked for Genevieve, the new housekeeper. She thought about what might happen if she found her, what she would really do if she saw her. Charlotte would like the presence of someone older and more affectionate, but that didn't mean that anyone older was going to be affectionate. 

She went upstairs again, back to her room and put on the first pair of boots she could find. 

Then she went out into the yard, picking up her old soccer ball and practicing shots with herself, trying to score goals between her mother's flower chairs.

The Aetos family home was near a park with a beautiful garden with a statue in the center, and the bench facing this view was your favorite place. Far enough away from your parents, but close enough for them not to complain.

You held a book in your lap, but could only stare at the water moving up and down the white marble sculpted arms.

It was a perfect sight, a comforting silence and a calm that could only be replicated when you were in the presence of your best friend. 

Your fingers clenched together, nervous, not that it was apparent, anyone who saw you from the outside would find a person as calm as the statue.

Your large, sad eyes were uncomfortable for your mother, and between humility or luxury, she seemed to see only the latter in your irises. More annoying than the eyeballs was the time you spent in the bathroom. Your parents hated your vanity.

Your yellow tights covered your scraped knees, burning from the fervent prayer you had said last night. You felt lost, begged the heavens so much to be heard, to be changed, but to no avail: you still had the same feelings —and blamed yourself greatly for them. 

Was a confession still valid if you lied about the real reasons behind her actions? you confessed seeking forgiveness, not to find other people to blame. 

You confessed, and spent more time practicing your dance routine until your toes hurt, spent more time sewing clothes without taking care with the needle; You tried everything to feel less guilty about your lack of guilt. 

You did like your mother, like the time she caught you reading The Well of Loneliness, and made you clean the whole house on your knees, begging forgiveness for yours and the writer's soul. You wondered if your mother really knew about the story, but you didn't dare question anything, your mother had certainly chastised you because she had heard what the book was about. 

Of all the literature you had ever studied, Russian literature was the one that had taken up the most space in your heart. The melancholy in every word was something no one else could replicate. At least, no one else you could read, as your Arabic was weak and minuscule.

The teacher had split the class into three and given them each a different Russian work. The group was divided into two and each member had to present their own opinion on the theme of the book —as well as doing the technical analysis that you loved so much.

And you got even angrier, you had read the book and loved analyzing it, what was wrong with doing it?

The theme of the book and Dostoevsky's damning phrases about self-opinion... A little ironic that you had got that part of the debate right.

You opened the book again, flicking through the pages as if the answers were going to leap out of the paper and straight into your head.

You loved old literature, knowing that someone, years ago, decades ago, held the same book and read the same words, made you feel as if you weren't alone in her world of thoughts —you were connected to everything and everyone at the same time, all the time.

However, the beauty of the author's words did not take away the sadness of their truthfulness, what hurt hurt, and only became art once it stopped burning.

You opened to any page, your eyes skimming over the paragraph marked in neon colors.

"We always think of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why should it be? What if, instead of all that, you suddenly find just a little room in there, something like a village bath house, dirty, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is."

That paragraph never left your mind. You had always wanted eternity, to leave a legacy, you wanted to be important, to be remembered, and thinking of eternity as a dirty little room began to drive you crazy. Did the infinitude of the soul really not matter that much? you weren't afraid of dying, but you were afraid of not having anyone to remember you.

Class passed by so painful slowly.

The biology teacher spoke about seaweed, about how they were everywhere — if there was light, there was seaweed. You looked at Lottie, on your side, imagining her engulfing you like the sea engulfed the land — if there was life, there was your love for Lottie.

You could drown in her love, — no, no, you wouldn’t drown —, you would willingly swallow more water than what you could take.

— Are you okay? — she turns around, asking with a pretty worried face.

How to tell all the complicated, sinful thoughts going through your mind? you never let yourself indulge in such desires —let alone recognize you had them. However, you knew it was clear: you wanted to keep being seen.

It took a lot of effort for you to talk, but you opened your mouth more, asked questions, broke the silence quite a few times… The team had given you a voice.

— What happened to Allie… It was truly scary — you decided to say, looking at the hand Lottie had put on the table, aching to be touched too — I never saw someone bleed so much.

It was a lie, but you never considered yourself much of a person to be upset about your bloody wounds; you bled paint, glitter pens, strawberry jam or a ribbon, nothing much human.

— Let’s think about something else, shall we? — Charlotte wanted to punch Taissa (more for giving bad thoughts to you than actually hurting Allie).

—y/n, there’s no one more blessed than you, — Laura Lee started to say, a smile so gentle on her face that the sun itself could burn — you truly are gifted, such as me, for having you.

You smiled too, enticed by the words of your childhood company. There was tension in the circle, with all the girls saying sweet (yet imposing) words to one another. 

— Laura, you are one of my best friends and I’m so glad God led me to you, you shine as bright as the sun — you loved Laura, you hoped Laura never realized how sinful you were.

You two both hugged a very tight embrace, going to another lady. You stepped in front of Shauna, tilting your head at the girl.

— Y/n, you have a… a very nice taste in clothes and phrases.

You giggled lowly, shaking your head.

— Should I be upset about your delay? — you two both laughed slightly, you blinked one eye — I really enjoy you, Shauna, I enjoy your big eyes and big words. 

She didn’t say anything back, and soon you were passing close to Natalie: — I don’t really have anything nice to say about you…

— Oh, fuck off! — she muttered back, smiling like a fool while going in Jackie's direction.

— Taissa, you are very pretty, and perhaps too witty for your own good. 

— Y/n, you are the second best on the team.

And you didn’t even get upset by it, rather the contrary, you immediately assumed Lottie was the first —and you were so happy to be so close to Lottie in Tai's view.

Finally, the time came, the lamb walked in the direction of the flames.

— Lottie! — your voice was like a surprised giggle, staring deeply into the girl’s — I know God exists because I looked you in the eyes.

— y/n… — she took a deep breath, lost in words, swallowing everything she truly wanted to say, but she smiled — if God exists, I wonder when he will bless me with your lips.

Of course, this wasn’t what she truly said. In fact, Lottie kept quiet. She gave one step ahead and hugged you tightly, whispering on your ear:

— God exists in your embrace.

Charlotte's house was not only large and full of rooms, but it was also full of space in the backyard —a plot big enough to have a vegetable garden and a pond you could bathe in. 

You weren't the biggest fan of pieces of water where you couldn't see the ground, so you loved being in the lake at Charlotte's house, where the water was almost crystal clear, showing the stones. You couldn't even think of what that pool of water must have cost Mr. and Mrs. Matthews.

Lottie was in the water, while you were sitting on the edge with your feet dangling and creating little ripples, you had leaves, twigs and flowers around, creating crowns of petals and plants. Charlotte stared at you curiously, wondering what you were thinking, although she knew that if she asked, the answer would be the same: "I'm not thinking about anything, dear Lottie, just feeling how much I love you and-"

Oh, right, that part wasn't really sincere, but Lottie liked to imagine you following the script that her own head was creating.

When Lottie thought of you, she didn't think of a love that warmed her all over, but a love that would cook her in an oven at 200 degrees and consume her entirely. 

She imagined you sitting at a beautiful table, waiting for her heart on a platter.

She imagined that you would accept the dish, that you would eat every morsel, saying promises of love —she imagined that you would accept her into your body in every way.

— Do you think the dinosaurs knew they were about to die? It makes me so sad to think that they might have just thought it was a miracle that such a shiny thing had come so close... — You pressed your lips together, stopping weaving the leaves to stare at the work in progress and pulling Charlotte out of her own head — I guess that's how it is with all warm and shiny things, one day they turn you to dust...

— Do you think it would have been different? If they'd known?

—  A lot of people only start to love once they know they may never love again, don't they?

— Well, that's Confucius' logic... But I don't know if I'd like to know that the end is so near, sometimes ignorance can be a gift.

— But it's still a lie.

— But it's going to end anyway, darling... What difference does a beautiful lie make? — Lottie stared at her best friend, she knew that nothing was more important to you than the truth, that's why everything was so painful and confusing for you.

Lottie realized that she had to be honest.

— Y/n, I need to tell you something, — she said, smiling nervously.

You looked at her curiously, stepping into the river to be closer to Lottie.

— I’m terrified of nationals. You need to come, I’ve asked the coach to put you on the regular.

You sighed slightly, thinking about how Allie couldn’t play any sooner.

— It’s a great opportunity for you, Lots… 

— I don't want it for me, I want it for us.

You stared at your best friend, a confused smile on your face, wondering how you should handle this situation.

— applepie, I need you to trust me on this... — Charlotte said, her voice serious, moving closer and wrapping her arms around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder — please. 

You turned your head, leaning it against Lottie's, your nose taking in the scent of your friend's hair cream. The water around you was cold, but your body was warm —your heart too.

— Okay... a test...

“My dearest, Charlotte

I must apologize, I am not a good person with words getting out of my mouth, but, hopefully, I will be able to make them worthy of writing in this letter.

I tell you how much I appreciate you, however, I must confess, it's surprising for me how unsure of it all you seem to be; I suppose our own light truly can make us blind.

I feel like those words weren't enough, so I hope I can make you believe it with this list.

— I love the way you look at me after I say something you disagree with; I love how you expect your eyes to say everything you can't; Most of it all, I love how they truly say it.

— I love how when you laugh (truly laughs) your eyes become very small; I love how your cheeks work as a happy measure, I know when a joke is funny when I can't see your eyes.

— I love how you tilt your head when you are trying to make people see your point of view.

— I love that when you frown, your lips are pressed together, like you are sending a kiss to those you disagree with. I suppose you are just so full of love that your body releases it without even wanting to.

— I love your smell; I can sense everytime you enter the room, it's there instantly and I look for it like a dog in an airport. I never cared that much about perfumes, from all the five senses, smell was the one I took for granted; however it is different now: I find myself taking deep breaths around you, so usually that everytime I see a pretty fantastic view on my walks, I end up lacking air.

— I love your hair; I love how your bangs are always so neatly trimmed and placed, like the wind isn't a bother to your lines; I love how you play with it when you are filled with concentration.

— I love your fingers and how they look for my hand;

— I love your skin; I love how you glow in the sun, like Apollo is making it shine just for you; Deeply, I bet he is, how could the almighty god of art not wish to perpetuate the beauty of the most beautiful creation in the mortal realm?

— I love your mind most of it all, how you think; I love how you stay dedicated to one single singer but listens to multiple songs of various people; I love how you speak your mind when you are comfortable enough; I love how your favorite shows are the ones you didn't even finished watching, there's something very pure of loving a thing you don't even know how it's going to end; I love how one of your favorite colors is grey but you only uses light tones; I love how your biggest dream is to work paleontology, how you wish to dive deep into the past and look for answers; I love how your favorite animal are dogs because you see them more (what is strange for me at first, how can you have as your favorite something so daily?; until I realized that what you love the most is to have company; I do not wish for you to prefer anything else.);

— I love dogs (now).”

You took a deep breath, putting the decorated letter inside Lottie’s locker and walked straight outside, ready to enter the bus and be taken to the airport; leaving the confession letter to your future self.

Leaving to the future.

#itmighthavebeenlibrary #yellowjackets #reader insert #autistic lottie matthews #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #aching bones aching teeth

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Kafka Taking Care Of You At A Kaiju Cleanup Sight

Kafka Hibino X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Kaiju gore, blood

Word Count: 1.3k

(A/N:) I have been so dang excited about the Kaiju No. 8 anime! I have read the manga since it came out and when they finally announced it getting an anime adaption, I freaked out. So yesterday was so awesome, I watched it three times! XD So I apologize for the fangirl I'm about to become and hopefully all the other Kaiju No. 8 fangirls can appreciate what I'm about to do! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

You just knew your bosses hated you. It wasn't unusual for companies like Izumo Tech requesting specialists to go out in the field and oversee the kaiju cleanup crews. Only to make certain that they were receiving the best parts of the kaiju to create weapons, armor, and various forms of gear for the brave men and women who take the battles to the front line. But for some unfortunate reason you were the one being constantly sent out to supervise. It had to be done, even though the majority of the cleaning crews did their jobs right, but you'd be out of a job if you didn't go. This time you were to watch and take note of the Monster Sweep Inc. crew. The best of the business and always making sure they sent nothing but the parts Izumo requests. This wasn't the first time you had overseen this crew and you enjoyed being around them. What you didn't enjoy was dodging spurts of blood, or tripping over entrails, or squishing eyeball pieces under your shoes. The Defense Force always left a mess and it was the brave and iron stomached men and women of the cleaners.

Rubbing at your temples, fighting the oncoming headache, while your driver navigated the destroyed streets of the city. Your bag across your knees and the seatbelt strapped tight. You said a small prayer for the poor white shirt you unwittingly wore today. The car squealed to a stop as you couldn't go any further in the vehicle. Giving you a sorrowful smile, your driver let you out before backing out as fast as he could, leaving you alone in front of a giant bloody kaiju mess. Heaving a large sigh, the tainted coppery tang of kaiju blood filling your nostrils, you got to work.

"Hey Kafka," Masahide called to the dark haired male.

Kafka lifted his face shield wiping sweat from his forehead before heading to Toku's direction. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach, sensing he was being dragged into something else. He just hoped it wasn't entrail duty like the other times. But when Kafka saw you standing at Toku's side everything became clear, but it still didn't mean he was dodging entrail duty just yet.

"(Y/N) just got here. She's being assigned to your side since you're closer to the parts Izumo Tech are looking for."

You gave him a small wave, holding your bag tightly and standing as straight as could be. Making yourself as small as possible seemed like the safer option of keeping clean. You and Kafka knew each other pretty well by now as you had been on several scenes with him and the crew. You had become his charge every time you were on scene and it wasn't unusual for you both to go out for drinks and dinner afterwards. Majority of the time the other guys would join but sometimes you both were alone. So in Kafka's care you always felt safe as he tried his best not to splatter you with any kaiju fluids. Majority of cleaners didn't like you around, thinking that you were only here because the company thought they were doing their jobs wrong when it was the complete opposite. So it wasn't unusual for you to get doused in gore in an act of retaliation.

"Welcome back," Kafka said giving you a warm smile.

"Looks like you guys have your work cut out for you this time," you replied.

He sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat, "They keep upping our finish dates every time a kaiju is dispatched. They're really working us to the bone."

"Well if anyone can do it and handle it it's you guys," you offered him what little encouragement you could.

"Thanks." Kafka walked past you leaving you a little confused as he went to the company van. He tugged a large protective jacket from a bag on the floorboard before setting it on your shoulders. You gratefully slipped your arms inside and zipped it up to your chin. It swallowed you but you wouldn't complain.

"Thank you so much!"

Kafka blushed, "Didn't want your pretty shirt to get messed up."

"I didn't know I was coming out into the field until I came to work," you grumbled. "I would have dressed accordingly. Please continue like I'm not even here."

"I couldn't do that even if I tried," Kafka laughed. "Follow me. Some idle chat would do me some good."

Time passed by quickly as you and Kafka fell into easy chatter and before you both knew it lunch break was called. Majority of the time the smells of the dead kaiju killed your appetite but some form of luck came your way as the wind was right. Blowing the majority of the stench in the opposite direction. But still you couldn't do anything more than nibble on a few veggies you had packed in your bento. Kafka noticed you barely eating, so he dug around in his cooler. Tossing you a can, you caught it, barely.

"Ginger ale," he said at your confused glance. "It'll help settle your stomach. I carry them around just in case I'm on entrail duty. I also have some nausea pills somewhere too." He started to pat around in his pockets.

"No that's okay," you hurriedly grabbed his wrist. "This is more than enough thank you."

Sipping at the cold beverage and testing out a few bites of your lunch. You were able to finish most of it, but didn't push your luck as you had a couple more hours of staying on sight. The bark of the tree you leaned against, bit into your back. But you enjoyed the moment of just being able to take it easy. It was a rare thing to get to enjoy the slow pace of life. Between kaiju attacks, rushing around for work, and the fast pace of just life in general; you didn't find many times like this. Kafka, now finished with his lunch, leaned backwards cushioning his head with his hands. He breathed deep relaxing as the sun danced across his skin.

"Want to grab something later together," Kafka asked. His shoulders shaking as his nerves almost made him redact his question. You carefully slid your hand over, tugging at his sleeve, Kafka removed the hand you wanted from behind his head. You clasped his tightly in your grip, threading your fingers together causing him to stiffen. He knew he was sweaty and it only made his hand sweat worse and he didn't know how you felt about that. But you didn't let go.

"I would like that a lot," you replied. This time resting your head on his shoulder. "Thanks for taking care of me Kafka when I come here."

He gulped, "I enjoy it and want to make sure you're safe."

That had always been the thing. Nobody made you feel as safe as Kafka did. Accidents happened all the time at the sights of kaiju clean up and while it was dangerous for everyone involved. With Kafka you felt like at his side was the safest place that existed. Kafka squeezed your hand, closing his eyes and relishing in the touch of you. He would keep you safe no matter what. As he felt it as his duty as a man and friend. That is just who Kafka is deep down in his core. He squeezed your hand tighter resting his head on top of yours. Taking in the moment with you before you both got back to work. Yeah if you were by his side it was the safest place you could possibly be.

#Kafka Hibino X Reader #Kafka Hibino / Reader #Kafka Hibino #Kaiju No. 8 #Kafka Hibino Imagine #Kaiju No. 8 Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

[aquaburst3]

One debate going around on TWST Tumblr is about the OB boys and how the narrative handles them. On one side, we have someone saying that the OB boys' actions towards Yuu are shitty, horrible and traumatizing, so that the game should take time out to have Yuu lash out at them and have the boys "compensate Yuu for their actions". Some people agreed with that OP. One person in the replies of that post even went as far as to say that they quit playing the game based on that fact. On the other side, we have a person replying to that take basically rebutting that statement. They believe that the game shouldn't condemn them for their actions, and that we aren't meant to read their actions as scaring. Another portion of the fandom agreed with them. (No, I'm not tagging anyone for obvious reasons.) Personally, I'm somewhere in the middle between those extremes.

On one hand, we all came into this game knowing that they are based on Disney Villains, right? So, what the hell do some people expect? The NRC boys to be lovable Disney heroes with a heart of gold? Of course, they are gonna be morally grey anime pretty boys, who do some questionable actions. That's the whole fucking point of the game. xD

I also agree with that second OP that expecting "compensation" from people who were dicks towards you is not how life works. Sometimes people are just dicks towards you and you have to move on. Hell, I think characters like Vil compensated Yuu to a realistic amount where they acknowledged their actions, apologized and tried to make it up to them. I don't know what else some people want here.

On the other hand, I think this is one example of a HUGE flaw with the writing —the static characters and them having zero consequences for their actions, including their fucked up ones. Something I noticed in the game for awhile now is that most of the time, it completely brushes off the boys' actions and they get only a slap on the wrist. It's not just in cases of OBs either, it's in general. Almost Thanos Snap your friend? He instantly forgives you. Almost suck out the magic out of people and want to do it to the world? Nothing happens other than "forcing you to live with your guilt". Almost turn people into living puppets? You are allowed to get away scott free without anyone being the least bit mad about being almost subjected to a fate worse than death. You see what I mean? It's fucking laughable and unrealistic. Actions always have consequences, and so should theirs', whether they are based on villains or not. To be blunt, it's shitty writing. Plain and simple. Unless you are writing a flat arc, characters need to change and develop. It can be for the better or worse. But there has to be...something. Otherwise what the fuck is the point of having a story?

You can have both. You can write morally grey teen/young adult characters in a coming of age story AND have them have realistic consequences for their actions and grow and change. The Crows prove that.

The Crows from Six of Crows parallel the NRC students in a lot of ways. They are both in the same age range. (Even though, I think aging them up to be in their 20s and early 30s in the show was a smart move, since you can buy a guy in his late 20s being a powerful gang lord over a teenager. I think that's part of the reason why aging up the NRC boys to be 20-somethings in university is so popular in this fandom. It's much easier to buy Azul as a 20-something owning the lounge, for example. But that's besides the point.) Both have morals and care about a select few while being rather questionable. Both have done some VERY fucked up actions. For example, Kaz pulls out a guy's eyeball at one point. One key difference is that the Crows are more dynamic as characters and have actual consequences for their actions.

For example, Kaz is a hardened criminal who only shows his softer side to a select few. However, at the end of Crooked Kingdom, Inej, the woman he endlessly simps after and cares about a lot, says that she needs time away from him, joining a crew to find her lost family. The reason why he did this? Because he was emotionally constipated and needed to work on his issues more before getting into a relationship with her. That is a very real consequence for his actions and how he treated others. Hell, the way I interpreted that bit is that whenever she came back, she would be more ready to be in a relationship with him. (We would've gotten that in a SOC series. Thanks a lot, Netflixs!) There are plenty of other examples like that in the series. The group doesn't instantly let in Mattias into the fold thanks to him hunting down other Grisha before, tension forms between Jesper and Wylan thanks to the love triangle between them and Kuwei, etc.

The game could've done something like that. Have them still be morally grey people, but have fallout for some of their actions and have to earn their redemption. Do more things like what happened to Vil in Book 6...but have it actually make sense and not a stupid deus ex machina to make Malleus look like a Gary Stu. (God, the whole "Vil turning into an old man thing was fucking stupid.)

Plus, these guys are based on VILLAINS, so you'd think that characters like Ruggie would be more angry and want revenge. The fact that they quickly forgive and forget makes no sense in that regard as well. Hell, I'm still surprised that Ace, Leona and Vil never got mad at Honest Fellow or called him out in the new event. I thought they would try to kill him for what he did given the fact that they are based on villains. That's what the Crows would've done.

While, yes, I think part of this is due to the game's design as a gatcha. Plus, they want to make the boys as appealing to the player as possible in order to entice them pay more, so that includes not focusing on some of their deeds. However, I also think part of this is due to Yana herself.

During the 2020 guidebook interview, Yana said that she honestly believes that the boys' only appeal is that they are "bad" and they should always remain that way. So part of the reason why the game doesn't focus on that is because calling them out and having them change would go against her own mentality as a writer, because "character development=bad" to her, which hampers the story on all levels. That's why I think the light novel was able to dive into this aspect—Yana's not behind it, somebody else is. So, yes. Yana shares a chunk of the blame as well as the head writer, and is yet another example of her being a terrible one.

Another problem is that Yuu's lack of presence and blase attitude towards everything. The aren't phased by anything that happens to them in the narrative. It's not just the OBs either, but in general. On the first night, they have a GOOD night sleep despite being thrown into another world. When their home is destroyed in Book 6, they simply don't care. Like...what? Who acts like that? They have no impact on the events and mostly act as an observer, being more like the Crew in The Office than a fucking character. Hell, my toothbrush has more of a presence then Yuu! Again, it's shitty writing.

So, yeah. I think the side wanting these guys to be paragons of virtue or to make them repay Yuu for their actions is asinine. But at the same time, I think that Yuu's unrealistic responses to things, the character stagnation and them not having any real consequences to their actions is holding the story back. While I don't think the characters should beg for forgiveness from Yuu or go to rehab or something stupid like that, I think they should have some setbacks as a result of their actions that they have to work overcoming instead of moving on to the next boy. This should be a coming of age story, so that's a basic requirement that Yana is intentionally not meeting thanks to her own stupid mentality.

#twst negative #twst critical #aqua rambles #twisted wonderland

[skippyv20]

Australian Article re; Spare nterview

Prince Harry’s ‘idiotic’ tactic for reconciling with his family falls completely flat​

https://www.news.com.au/entertainment/celebrity-life/royals/prince-harrys-idiotic-tactic-for-reconciling-with-his-family-falls-completely-flat/news-story/24fba855f1063fe95086cce87e3f37b8

Revolutionary Russians were hardly big fans of the monarchy – just ask the Romanovs – but ironically, when it comes to the state of the royal world at the start of 2023, no one put it better than Lenin who said: “There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen.”

We are currently in one of those weeks, thanks to 

Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex

 who has not one, but two, huge TV interviews as well as the publication of 

his autobiography 

Spare

 set to land in the coming days.

All of this is, of course, after he and wife 

Meghan, Duchess of Sussex

 unleashed their hitherto biggest offensive yet against the royal family – 

their interminable Netflix whinge-a-thon

, six hours of finger pointing and the sort of anti-establishment grenade-throwing that would have cheered up the Bolsheviks no end.

But there will be no rest for our poor, tired eyeballs because Harry is back at it, again, carping on about his family with all the self-pitying of a teenager who has been forcibly parted from his Xbox.

The 

first trailer for Harry’s interview with the UK’s Tom Bradby has been released

, with him saying he wants a family “reconciliation”.

“I would like to get my father back,” he said. “I would like to have my brother back.”

It’s hard to find the right words here to truly quantify how stupefying, how ridiculous, how downright idiotic the Duke’s logic is here. Harry wants his family “back” and the way he is going about that is by pillorying them afresh to a global TV audience? By giving an interview to US 

60 Minutes

 that was being promoted on Tuesday as “explosive”?

Does anyone imagine that in their Birkhall drawing room, all Jack Russell fur-covered sofas and discreetly tucked away ashtrays (probably), 

King Charles

 and Queen Camilla will sit down to watch Harry – again – cast the royal family as a perfidious bunch of leakers, only for His Majesty to tearfully, full of regret, want to reach for his phone to issue a public apology to his son?

Or that 

William and Kate, the Prince and Princess of Wales

, will, watching the Harry confessionals on their iPads in bed, suddenly turn to one another and decide they were in the wrong all along? Somehow I doubt a Peter Jones gift hamper with a heartfelt mea culpa and far too much gluten will be winging its way to Montecito anytime soon.

If Harry and Meghan really wanted nothing more than a true royal rapprochement, a true healing of hurts and mending of fences with the House of Windsor, is there a single, solitary soul on the planet who thinks that the best way to achieve that is via hours and hours of the Sussexes bad-mouthing the royal family?

Which brings us to one indisputable fact in this hub-bubbling mess: 

Harry has a book to move

.

In a week, the Duke will release his memoir, a book that so far promises to be the least fun beach read since the 9/11 commission report came out.

Penguin Random House, for the privilege of publishing the princely pariah’s tell-all, reportedly forked over $29 million for a four-book arrangement with the Sussexes. (The other three? According to the 

Sunday Times

, we have a “wellness-focused” title from Meghan, “a book about leadership and philanthropy” and a possible memoir from the Duchess to look forward to. Oh goody.)

Harry, or Aitch as we recently learned ‘Meg’ calls him, has millions of copies of a book to shift in the same way that the Sussexes, in return for their reported $140 million deal with Netflix, had to deliver stonkingly good viewing figures for the streamer.

No amount of morally superior window dressing about wanting his father “back” can obscure that money, to some degree, is now an animating force for the Sussexes.

(Harry has also committed to donating $2.2 million of proceeds from the book to his charity Sentebale and $530,000 the UK’s WellChild of which he is patron.)

When the couple put out their Instagram post that was heard around the world nearly three years ago exactly (January 8, 2020 if you want to observe the solemn day) they said they wanted to become “financially independent”.

Since then it has become apparent that their version of independence seemed to still involve Charles ponying up millions and British taxpayers happily footing the bill for bodyguards to follow the Sussexes around North American organic shops in pursuit of activated almonds.

As Harry told Oprah in 2021: “My family literally 

cut me off financially

.” (I know, there aren’t violins small enough …)

Which left the couple needing money – and a heck of a lot of it – which they have proceeded to earn by inking highly profitable deals – deals that so far have largely involved them airing a commercial laundry’s worth of dirty royal linen. (Even Meghan’s 

Archetypes

 podcast, yet to be renewed for a second season, was peppered with the occasional revelation.)

This picture gets even more complicated when you consider that a “source with knowledge” of Harry’s memoir has told 

The Sunday Times

: “I think the book [will be] worse for them than the royal family is expecting. Everything is laid bare. Charles comes out of it better than I had expected, but it’s tough on William, in particular, and even Kate gets a bit of a broadside. There are these minute details, and a description of the fight between the brothers. I personally can’t see how Harry and William will be able to reconcile after this.”

And yet, Harry wants his father and brother “back”. How exactly does he see this happening?

The ‘logic’ in all of this requires such mental contortions I think I need a lie down.

The truly unsettling thing in all of this? The week has not even really begun, with hours of interviews to be watched (or, endured) and hundreds of pages of 

Spare

 to be ploughed through yet. What will Harry’s relationship with his family look like on the other side of this?

I think the only thing we can confidently say that will be going “back” anytime soon is that Peter Jones gift basket for a refund

Thank you❤️

[chaifootsteps]

Could you show the hc of how sandy and sally met? Its fine if its long, im very interested in reading it, is that ok with you

Sally and Sandman's relationship starts where her relationship with Jack ends. She's the one who walks away...she loves him too much to resent him because he keeps forgetting she exists, or run the risk of him resenting her because she keeps reminding him, and she knows that's exactly what's going to happen if they stay together. The only thing more devastating than losing their "simply meant to be" would be to lose Jack, her beloved friend.

Still she wonders, maybe hopes, that he'll try to stop her. It's three days before he even realizes she's moved out.

It's too painful to stick around town, so she packs a few things and heads for the Hinterlands. She reaches the holiday doors, and then keeps going, and going, out into the corners of the world Jack wove grand visions of them exploring together someday, and she was sure in that moment he meant it. She walks until she comes to a place where the trees grow twisted and strange and too close together, but the wet loam smells so strongly of pine, it clears her head like a strong drink. Through the gaps in the trees, she can see the silhouettes of mountains.

There, sitting high on a branch, she meets...someone. 

He’s covered in blue feathers and has a strange, curved face, like the beak of a bird. Like the crescent moon. He jumps about a foot in the air when he sees her, feathers bristling, yellow eyes wide. She apologizes for scaring him, and suddenly, like his mind is catching up and nudging back his bird reflexes, he smooths, straightens, answers her in a strange, rolling accent unlike any she’s ever heard before.

“No, no. There are a thousand things you don’t expect in the forest. Of all of them, you’re a welcome surprise!”

He points her in the direction of a stream she can drink palatably from -- cleanliness isn’t an issue, but she likes her water as cold and not brown as much as anyone else does  -- and how to get to the nearest village. She tells him she thinks this place is beautiful, and he agrees, but warns her that strange things happen out in the mountains, and to be careful.  

The directions he gave her takes her to a village, and she makes a little temporary home for herself on the outskirts, and sometimes in the catacombs underneath. It’s not long before the kids in town catch wind of the fact that there’s a weird ragdoll lady living in the woods, and takes about as long before they love her. She’s an amazing storyteller and knows what plants can stop a heart. When their parents freak out about this and try to find her, they never can.

As it turns out, the adults are right to be on edge; something’s been sneaking in by night and blinding the children. Not just blinding them, but stealing the eyeballs right out of their heads, the orifices left behind smooth and black and immaculate. All anyone can seem to remember in those last moments when they had sight is a plumage of blue feathers, a flurry of sand, and a face that looks like a crescent moon.

When Sally hears this, her heart drops like a stone. She knows. 

But it doesn’t mark the first time someone who was kind to her showed their true colors, and she doubts it will be the last. She’s more concerned with the fate of the children, especially the most vulnerable ones, the orphans and the ones who sleep in empty houses because their parents aren’t around...but especially, especially this one particular little orphaned girl who reminds her so, so much of herself and Jack. 

The kids have already built up a rough idea of who they’re dealing with, and what they have to do to protect themselves, and by getting together and comparing notes and brainstorming with Sally, they’re able to confirm that for whatever reason, the Sandman can’t or won’t force their eyes open if they don’t do it themselves. That he can come in through locked doors, but prefers rooms with windows. Most importantly of all, that he won’t harm them if they’re under the blankets.

And for a while, it works. More and more children wake up with stories of the Sandman visiting their houses, the horrible chuffing noises he makes as he moves around your bed, even reports of him tapping them on the foot, but they don’t look, and he always leaves by morning. When their parents come to get them, that’s when they know it’s safe, and that they’ve made it to see another sunrise. The plan is solid, and it works.

That is, until it doesn’t.

A little boy, who Sally will always remember because he once asked what kind of leaves she was stuffed with. His mother called for him, and he assumed that it was safe to open his eyes. It couldn’t have taken her 10 seconds to walk from the kitchen to his room, but that’s all the Sandman had needed.

The other children stick to the strategy, but they’re scared and vulnerable. Sally’s favorite girl starts sneaking out to her shack to sleep alongside her, and although it’s risking her own safety, Sally doesn’t have the heart to stop her. She holds her tight, keeps an old gardening scythe in hand, brings her back by morning, and never sleeps.

And then, one night, as she’s lying there clutching this little girl she adores -- the one who’s fascinated by her potions and loves being overdramatic -- she hears the sound of someone coming up the stairs. She knows the door was locked. She knows who it is.

It’s all she can do to wait until he’s standing right over her. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do if the little girl opens her eyes all of a sudden, if he’ll take them even as Sally’s holding her, how she’ll live with herself then. But she waits, listening to the sound of him moving around, trying to entice her into waking up and looking, hating him more than she even hated Oogie, hating him more than she ever thought it was possible to hate anyone. Her hand tightens around the handle of the scythe. 

She feels her little girl start to move, waking up. 

She jumps up and swings.

In all truth be told, she was aiming for his head. He jumps back at the last second and she gets his arm instead, cutting him straight to the bone. He clutches the wound as blood spills from it and feathers float around the air, like a badly hurt chicken set upon by a weasel and destined for the dinner plate. She winds up to swing again, and when he looks up at her, she expects to see the same unbridled hatred she feels for him mirrored back at her.

But all she sees is fear, and utter, utter despair.

It gives her a moment’s pause, just a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. He shoots by her and pulls back the locked window, jumping into the night’s sky, only to wobble crazily on the air before crashing back into the ground. As she locks the window again, she can hear him running, hear the bushes crashing.

She tells the little girl to stay put, keep the doors locked, hide under the blanket, and stay there until she gets back. Grabbing the scythe, she follows the Sandman’s blood trail into the woods.

She finds him beneath a tree, just like the one he was sitting in when they met. The ground’s all torn up beneath his feet, and as she draws closer, she realizes he’s trying and failing to fly. When she approaches him, he pulls himself up off the ground and faces her, a weakened shadow of the monster that’s been preying on the village children all these months.

“I don’t care what you do to me! But only let me go to my children.”

“Your children?” 

“Yes. Let me die by my children.” Sally hesitates, unsure whether to believe him, and his voice cracks, frantic. “Prakeikimas! Did you think it was for me?! All this time, every mouthful, it was all for them.”

Sally’s fingers twist around the scythe handle, unsure, as her mind races for a compromise. “Take me to them.”

“Impossible.” 

“I don’t want either of our children to suffer, but if you want me to--”

“No, no, impossible.” With his good hand, he gestures to the crescent moon, hanging low in the sky. It isn’t long before she understands. When he speaks, there’s no hope of his own survival, no remorse...only a desperation that maybe, at the end of this night, his children will live. “Please...let me go to them one last time. Let them feed on my eyes. My body. It will be enough.”

“...Come here.” He doesn’t. “I’m going to fix your arm.”

He stares at her, stares at the scythe in her hands, which she lowers, but doesn’t throw away. Slowly, inch by inch, he makes his way closer to her; when at last she reaches for him, he’s tense as a board. She realizes she is too, both of them expecting at any moment to be set upon by something long and sharp. 

“Answer me one thing. Does it have to be...eyes? Do they have to be fresh?”

“Yes. Very fresh, and very young.”

“Look here. I think I can help you. I think I might know of a way that your children will never go hungry, never again. But you have to give me your word that you’re willing to give it a try. And if you can promise me that, then I’ll fix your arm.”

 “If I can’t?”

“Then I leave you here to jump for the moon until you make it, or you bleed to death.” She pauses. “And if I hear that you’ve come back to the village, hurting my children...I find you.”

The Sandman stares at her for what seems a long while, but can’t be more than a minute. Slowly, he nods.

“You have my word.”

He takes a seat before her. She sets the scythe on the ground, but near to her hand, and joins him. The tension in the air abates considerably once they’re both seated on the forest floor, and neither of them has taken the opportunity to lash out at the other, and Sally produces her needle and thread from her pocket. It’s a deep wound and the blade was filthy, and upon seeing it up close she’s hesitant to sew it shut with nothing more than a little water to rinse it clean, but the Sandman assures her it will be fine. The whole time she’s stitching the wound, he never flinches. 

“How many children do you have?” she asks after a while, as genuinely curious as she is eager to break the silence.

“Three.”

“That’s nice. What are their names?”

“I call them what my father called us. He called us all Little Ones.”

When the gash is stitched, and he stands and tests it, she figures this is the moment of truth...that if he’s going to attack her, this will be when it appens. But he never does, never even seems to consider it, and his strange face is weary and grateful and worn. 

“A bargain, then. What would you have me do?”

On the back of a piece of sewing fabric pulled from the bottom of her pocket, she sketches out a crude map and a rough set of directions; what to do when he arrives, and who to speak to, because some things are bigger than her history with Finkelstein. She thinks it’ll be enough to get him there, and if by some chance it isn’t, that Halloween Town will find him. It always does. 

He asks her name, then. She tells him. 

“Thank you, Sally. For your mercy.”

He turns to the moon and jumps, arms out to steady himself. For a moment he rocks dangerously and she thinks this might not work, that the wound was just too deep. But then he corrects his flight path, pointed straight on toward the stars, and as the clouds blow back from the curved face of the moon, he’s illuminated by the light, a shining, blazing blue.

And then he’s gone.

                                                      ***

She stays around the village for a while, wanting to make sure the Sandman holds up his end of the deal. The children are astounded that she even tried, her account of the story growing wilder with every version they pass around. Somehow, the ones who’ve been blinded get it into their heads that she’s somehow negotiated for their lost eyes back. It’s the hardest news she’s ever had to break, but she tells them not to lose hope just yet. 

The weeks turn into a month, and then a month and a half, and no children lose their vision to the Sandman. They don’t see him at all, lurking around their bed or otherwise. It’s cold comfort to the ones he’s already come for, but a sense of cautiously optimistic relief begins to settle over the town, young and old alike, that at long last, the nightmare is over.

Then, one night when the crescent moon is high, the Sandman comes back. But not for the village's youngest members.

“My children,” he says to her, a smile about his face, “are the fattest barrels. I think they may never be light enough to fly.” 

She wipes the dirt from her hands, caked on from where she was planting herbs, and laughs. “They didn’t mind the change, then? Switching over to eyes grown in a lab?”

“They would eat them all day if I’d let them. They’d eat until they burst.”

“I’m glad it all worked out. For you, and for them.”

“If only our paths had crossed sooner.” It’s the closest he’s come to showing regret for what he’s done, and she strongly suspects it’s because the village children were objects that she loved, but she’s always been one to pick her battles. She agrees, but tells him she’s got something in mind. Then he tells her he’s got something for her. 

He produces a bunch of flowers the likes of which she’s never seen before, never even dreamed They’re twisted and shining, like metal or crystal, but consisting of neither. They smell like cold, thin air, and wind, and dust. They smell like the moon.

“For potions. Or whatever else you see fit.” 

She smiles into the strange, stiff fronds. She can think of a dozen things at least she’d like to try with it, ground up or melted down or pulled apart for its secrets. But in the end...

“I think, this one, I’ll just keep.”

                                                           ***

She spends the rest of the week planting herbs and saying goodbye to the children, promising that if anyone ever harms them again, they’ll have to answer to hurt. Promising to visit again very soon, and she means it.

Before dawn, she shoulders her bag. Walks out onto the path. Takes a deep breath.

And then she heads for home.

#tnbc sally #tnbc #the sandman #the nightmare before christmas #paul berry #long post #very long post #stitches and eyes #actual blog post

[halothenthehorns]

How Do You Say Gods;

Chapter 19: ANNABETH DOES OBEDIENCE SCHOOL

'Just play it cool,' Nico coached himself as he got up to take the book. You're fine, nothing's wrong, just act natural.

He read the chapter title to the others stiff as a bored like somebody was about to keel over.

Then again...considering where Percy was headed...

"That's odd, I thought Annabeth was perfectly behaved on this quest," Alex smirked.

"No, no, she does the training," Thalia mockingly enlightened. 

"Oh come on, Percy's not that bad," Will laughed. "He's housetrained and everything."

"I do attack without warning," Percy mock raised a fist back, making Will dramatically clutch his chest.

For the first time in his life, Nico didn't have to suppress a laugh at one of Percy's jokes. Which was odd. It was his usual humor, he clearly didn't mean it and obviously wouldn't hurt Will, he smiled as charmingly as ever as Nico turned back to the book. How strange.

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

"Even the dead don't like trespassers," Magnus grumbled, one to many establishments always spotted him for the homeless kid he was and shooed him along except for Fadlands.

  It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"And the plan is?" Jason demanded eagerly.

"I heard no apologies!" Percy reminded.

"Speak Jackson," Thalia gave him a smack on the shoulder.

"Okay, ow." Percy explained in quick, and almost sorrowful sentences what he'd gathered from his trip so far, he even moved to pat his bag before his hand stilled and he wished he could take Annabeth's hand all of a sudden.

"Remind me to go to Annabeth for Obedience School," Will chuckled that had worked.

Nico swallowed a laugh now as he glanced at Will but quickly went on, he refused to be distracted again. He couldn't let anyone see how much being down there was going to bother him.

Which it wouldn't, of course. He spent most of his time around the dead, and he was preparing for an even longer trip now. This was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Crap, Will was still watching him. He read on louder than ever.

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative."

"Is a positive attitude Hades's secret weakness?" Alex mocked.

"You know, I don't think anyone's ever tried," Thalia shrugged.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

"It sounds like heaven and hell all in one place, I'm not sure how to feel about it," Magnus admitted. He'd never been a religious person much before to think of her 'anywhere', but he wasn't looking forward to this depiction anymore than Percy, or Nico apparently, who was still reading like there was another dinosaur in polyester about to show up in here and strap him to a bed.

I took the pearls out of my pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given me in Santa Monica.

They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.

"Shove one up their nose and in each eyeball, I think it'll work like a charm," Alex assured.

Annabeth put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

"Apparently it might be!" Jason mock agreed with Alex now. "Percy survived on it somehow!"

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

Percy was still chuckling at all of their nonsense commentary as Nico had kept going, and Percy was smiling so much now it was hard to believe in that moment he wasn't anything other than a regular kid fixing to grab his skate board and keep having the time of his life with his friends.

Will was waiting for it, looking for it now and saw how Nico scoffed loudly and kept reading. Yet it felt...practiced? Forced? He had no clue what kind of history these two really had, but Percy had never treated Nico any differently than he had anyone else. He knew he certainly wanted to ask now.

I looked at them both, and felt really grateful. Only a few minutes before, I'd almost gotten them stretched to death on deluxe water beds, and now they were trying to be brave for my sake, trying to make me feel better.

"The truest of friends," Percy smiled at Thalia, and then to everyone in the room. He really hoped now this was some trap to make all of them hate each other, because it was working terribly.

I slipped the pearls back in my pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

"Doesn't DOA stand for Dead on Arrival?" Magnus frowned.

"Are you surprised?" Percy waved to the book.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine,

"Not exactly the place of nightmares most people fear in death," Jason frowned.

but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking ... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

"Haunted waiting room does sound a lot scarier in theory than in practice," Alex grinned.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

I read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

Jason snorted in surprise

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

Will shivered in disgust, and he'd always thought Cerberus was the thing to be afraid of during this.

Nico couldn't help but notice, sitting right next to him, the guy was still watching him too, and he only spoke to try and make him stop that. Go back to a mild distraction, this book was almost done, Will would wander back off whistling show tunes. "He's not so bad, give him a drachma and a compliment and he knows how to keep his mouth shut."

"Um, thanks," Will smiled all the same, but he was a bit concerned now how much time Nico spent around this place. He wasn't sure he liked this guy spoke with such familiarity about the land of the dead, even if it was his domain.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent-British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"To be fair, he's behind his desk and we can't see his lower half," Alex shrugged.

"And even if we could, he could be hiding it in his chair!" Magnus agreed, he found he could actually speak around her so long as he wasn't speaking directly to her, agreeing with her fell somewhere in there even though he kept looking curiously out of the corner of his eye at her when he did.

"Wait for it," Thalia shivered. She had half-formed memories about this guy. She'd never died, but her soul had been trapped in that tree. She might have been in that lobby, or somewhere nearby as she wandered aimlessly around in search of nothing. Thankfully she couldn't properly remember, but his accent came back with perfect clarity...

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," I said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N.

Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man.

"How often does that happen?" Will stage whispered.

Well it would just be awkward if he ignored him now. "Often enough he complains about it," Nico muttered back.

And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

'He's not very good at his job, not knowing they're not dead,' Hearth signed in surprise.

'I don't think they're going to complain about that,' Magnus was just relieved they hadn't spontaneously died by walking through the door like a veil.

His question caught in my stomach like a fastball. I looked at Annabeth for support.

"We want to go to the Underworld," she said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" she asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um ... drowned ... in the bathtub."

"You guys really know how to talk under pressure," Thalia laughed way to hard at that as far as he was concerned.

"Technically, we're all talking under pressure, and you're an expert at it with your head in the clouds!" He huffed back.

"All three of you?" Charon asked. We nodded.

"Big bathtub."

Charon looked mildly impressed.

"Maybe he thinks your celebrities, town like that," Will nodded.

"I can't decide if this guy's stupid or messing with them," Alex looked dubious of both, no two monsters had the same intelligence when catching this so far.

"I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children ... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." I set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash I'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now ..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in ..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at me. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through my chest.

"Is that better or worse than through your head?" Jason asked.

"Depends on what the hole does?" Percy sort of answered.

"Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," I said. "I'm dead."

"You could be both," Alex said seriously.

"Well I'm not, and if you don't know which by now, I can't help you," Percy shrugged.

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," I insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Okay, this got creepy fast," Magnus shivered.

Hearth was feeling no better about this depiction, he'd swear Andiron's spirit haunted him until he left.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I tried to sound braver than I felt.

"You always do a remarkable job of that," Nico nodded absently, it explained so many times where he'd thought Percy was braver than the gods. He still couldn't stop finding it so fascinating how many times it might not be true.

Charon growled again-a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh ... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"I love it when idiots answer their own questions," Alex laughed.

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

"So far your plan seems to be working," Jason looked so fascinated it should have been insulting, but he really was digesting this interaction with care. Perhaps minor gods would be more accommodating to their quests if they had temples like the gods cabins?

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

"In between your mother and stopping a war with deadly water balloons?" Magnus muttered.

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"Phase one complete," Percy pressed down on his ear like he had a nonexistent piece he was sending commands to, smirking at Thalia and convinced the rest would go off without a hitch.

She called him a dork, and Nico really had to agree in that moment.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"And then?" Magnus asked with dread.

Nico knew he probably shouldn't answer, he'd been spouting off to much knowledge about this place already and if he kept going his gig would be up. They'd figure out he was a son of Hades very soon.

Magnus looked truly upset at the prospect though, and he'd been following Percy's story very closely. It didn't take much imagination to grasp he had a loved one who had passed. "He sneaks a soul or two on board with every vessel, he says it's to move the process along faster, but I think he likes defying the system. Women and children first, and then men if he hears enough prayers about them to get the noise out of his lobby, so he says. Most people aren't in there over a year unless they've done something to deserve it."

Magnus looked, relieved. Nico felt unreasonably warm all of a sudden, he couldn't recall ever having used his knowledge of the Underworld to help someone feel better before.

Will was still watching him, but the expression was more genial now. He even finally looked away when he kept reading, so he felt like he'd definitely done something right about getting this guy off his back.

"Oh," she said. "That's ... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," I said.

"That's the spirit!" Will praised.

"That was terrible," Nico frowned at him. 

"I'm with him on that one," Percy agreed, "we need to work on your puns man."

"Never!" he scoffed.

"To be fair Will," Alex began saintly, "Percy is a swell guy, we should take his advice-" she was interrupted by Will laughing to loudly to continue and Percy flipping her off so she was satisfied enough to let Nico go on.

"Ha."

I got a sudden dizzy feeling. We weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

I blinked hard. When I opened my eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets-like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

"So a cheerful chauffer," Will grimaced, he wanted to wrap Nico in a blanket and never let him out of sight again for how casual he made this sound!

"That was kind of cool though," Jason insisted.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I managed.

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge.

Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things; plastic dolls, crushed car-nations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so ..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across, hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

"I'll be sure to throw my hopes and dreams up instead, surely they'll do some good that way," Alex rolled her eyes.

Magnus gave her a concerned look, he didn't know if she meant that literally or figuratively and really wanted to ask.

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Will shivered in disgust, that sounded far to much like how Python was described, or even the power of the Oracle which he still had no real want to be around.

 Nico shifted his weight around and still sort of felt like a freak, if lesser than ever before, but Will and most demigods still thought this place, and anyone associated with it was freaky.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me ... they were dead.

Annabeth grabbed hold of my hand. Under normal circumstances, this would've embarrassed me, but I understood how she felt. She wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

"I don't see either of you holding Grover's hand," Thalia laughed for herself. Percy was wringing his own hands now and still looking sadly about like he hoped to catch a wisp of blonde curls from his girlfriend rather than her cousin.

I found myself muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one I had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones-the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

"It'll be top of the list," Jason rolled his eyes, no wonder this guy hadn't gotten a pay raise, he had poor management skills.

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

Everybody except Nico felt like they were holding their breath, just a bit. The Underworld was not a frequently traveled place.

I'm not sure what I was expecting-Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

"How is the most mysterious thing to Mortals the least mystical thing going on?" Magnus asked in fascination.

"Overhype," Thalia sounded a tad disappointed too, Annabeth had given much grander detail and that made it feel like a let down.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top.

Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

"Why do I feel like being a ghost dog wouldn't stop him eating you?" Jason frowned.

"You've been paying attention," Percy agreed.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH.

Now Nico felt that familiar tightening in his chest, the sense of disconnect he so often did around others for knowing that place like the back of his hand as he conversed, often pointlessly, with the ghosts in there fruitlessly searching. Better their half-wit company than any dreadful looks he usually got from the surface.

The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" I asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

Nico felt a little funny talking for Annabeth explaining this. It was a good thing, this was general knowledge any half-blood should know so nobody would be the wiser about him. He still felt a little off, like if he tried to explain how the sun's UV rays worked to Will.

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos,

Nico noticeably grimaced and Percy did a double take which nobody was sure they could wrap their head around. Thalia had been to the Underworld with these boys before and they hadn't run across him, so this must have some interesting story she'd ask the two about when Percy got his head back on right.

Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare, people like that.

"I have so many questions," Magnus said in fascination.

"Like?" Nico asked indulgently.

"Who judges the ghost to decide the ghost-judges!" He got out first.

"Hades himself every few centuries," Nico explained, "in between the current judges will step down if they feel another soul can take their place, which is a great and rare honor." It was how Minos got the position, the conniving deviant.

Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward-the Fields of Elysium.

That's where his mother was, Magnus instantly decided. It was probably naïve, lots of people probably thought the same who no where near deserved it, but she'd sacrificed herself for him. That had to have earned her something special.

Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"As long as Stephen King didn't send me there," Alex smirked.

Magnus jolted like she threw the book at his head as he asked in excitement, "which is your favorite of his? I always found his writing style-"

"Yo!" Percy called in a sharp, clear voice like he was hailing a taxi rather than cutting in what was clearly fixing to be a full debate according to Alex's interested look. "Underworld, three headed dog, saving the world! Interested in this one first?"

"Oh, right," Magnus blushed.

"Harsh," I said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk.

The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." I did remember now. We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff.

"Hades is my new favorite god if he does half of what I want him to for that," Alex said viciously. At least he was up front about what he did to his souls.

Nico choked on nothing and smiled at her. Maybe the enthusiasm should have been weird, but it was more weird than anything this hadn't been going nearly as bad as he feared. Will and Thalia weren't even looking at him like a zombie about to eat everybody, just watching him as casually as everyone else.

I said, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur-the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

"Like what?" Alex still begged for details.

"Something tailor made to what he did," Nico assured, "perhaps he'd have to spend forever in an orphanage hearing all of the things he kept away from those children, or his bank account would constantly be in the negative every time he checked, something of that nature, though my fa- err, Hades is pretty good at getting creative with it," oh gods he hoped he hadn't slipped up too noticeably.

"Go on Nico, you can say your personal favorite," Will covered for him. "Mine is some of the classics, like Tantalus," he was still affronted about that guy taking over Chiron and relished him being back where he belonged.

"Hmm, maybe later," he wasn't sure if he was promising or not, which was strangest of all. He'd never looked forward to a conversation before like Will's smile tried to encourage out of him.

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"Not a mental image I needed!" Will protested. He'd decided if Nico was comfortable talking about this place he'd get over it and maybe start with this and find a way to branch off.

"Same here man," Percy sighed as he rolled his eyes, he wished he could control what popped up in his head, then it wouldn't be on display!

"But if he's a preacher," I said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see.

"That Mist is some freaky stuff, to even be working on the dead," Magnus frowned, he would have thought it would wear off at least then.

"It's all about perception," Alex shrugged.

You're very stubborn-er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, but I still couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

Then, about fifty feet in front of us, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

I hadn't seen it before because it was half transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at me.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

"Does the breed make that better or worse?" Alex asked.

"It's not a stereotypical pit-bull?" Percy asked back.

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, mostly invisible, and had three heads.

"A breeders nightmare, or wet dream?" Jason muttered, hoping nobody would answer, and he got his wish.

The dead walked right up to him-no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," I muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

'She's not allowed to answer questions anymore!' Hearth shivered at the thought.

'You try stopping her,' Magnus protested.

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to me. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"It?" Alex protested. From their position, they should easily be able to tell if the dog was male or female.

"I'll gender check the monster when it doesn't threaten to eat me!" Percy protested back.

Alex pursed up her lips and was very curious if she could turn into Cerberus, and how much of an issue she might have with Percy going forward now.

"Hades calls him a him," Nico smoothly interjected. "When he gets around to taking him out anyways, but his name is gender neutral, and doesn't make sense, so, maybe something gets lost in translation seeing him in person," he finished with a shrug.

"Cerberus, isn't his name?" Magnus asked in confusion.

"His name is Spot, I thought he was a Dalmatian when I found that out," Nico was smiling of all things now. "I've heard Persephone call him Fluffy too, so maybe we all see him different?"

"You guys honestly make me question my sanity," Magnus was starting to feel like he could drown in the amount of questions all this brought up before he was thrown back up to the surface.

"It helps to just take it one step at a time," Jason assured. "I'm still playing catch up too." He was so calm most of the time he didn't come across that way at all, but it was a comforting reminder.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

"I'm going to pretend that's a good thing," Will sounded oddly like how Nico imagined Percy had at the time, his voice higher than was natural. Huh, he didn't get it, he'd thought the dog was cool from the moment he'd seen him. Not so much when he was grounded and had to clean up after him though, so he was guilty of not spending as much time with Cerberus as he should too.

I took the big stick out of my backpack-a bedpost I'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. I held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus-Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants. I tried to smile, like I wasn't about to die.

"Hey, Big Fella," I called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

'That was an agreeing growl right?' Hearth asked weakly.

'Grover's still not around to ask,' Thalia reminded in disappointment.

"Good boy," I said weakly.

I waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on me, completely ignoring the spirits. I had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"You're definitely not getting the kind of body language you want," Nico sounded way to thrilled about this right now in Percy's opinion! Who sounded that casual reading about this monster?!

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go kersploosh in the River Styx.

"Think Charon will charge you extra?" Thalia was still trying to smile and laugh this off.

"If I go back and ask I'll let you know," Percy groaned.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well ... he's hungry."

"Amazingly, I got that without a translator," Alex was on the edge of her seat, but at least she was watching the book rather than Percy so he could delude himself she wasn't picturing him as the chew toy.

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

Uh-oh, I thought.

"Five seconds," Grover said.

"I think I'm more impressed than anything he could count, or gave you that kind of mercy?" Will smiled.

"We can stop asking that question any day guys!" Percy groaned.

"Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO.

'Why did she keep that?' Hearth asked, had she really wanted a memento from there? The snow globe would have made more sense at least.

'It was already in there?' Magnus wasn't any more sure, must have been a bunch of junk in the bottom like the pen and postcard too.

"Were all of you guys Waterland stuff still on you?" Jason added. If so, than Mars's backpack wasn't as strange as he'd thought.

"Yeah," Percy shrugged, it had not been at the top of his mind to mention.

Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I was sure that any moment she would become the world's largest Milkbone dog biscuit.

But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

That at least caused a great burst of laughter from them all. Getting squashed by a three-headed dog was at least more interesting than the eternal wheat field.

Annabeth said, "Good boy!"

She threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" Annabeth ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

'That girl deserves Valhalla just for that,' Hearth signed, looking faint enough for both of them.

She turned toward us. "Go now. EZ DEATH line-it's faster."

I said, "But-"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"The girl has found her calling," Jason said sincerely, "she could train an academy to guard your camp."

"Who says she hasn't," Will said mysteriously.

Grover and I inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you?" I asked Annabeth as we passed her.

"I know what I'm doing, Percy," she muttered. "At least, I'm pretty sure... ."

"Confidence and repetition is key in this," Nico sounded like he was coaching her now! Will's mind was boggling just a bit as he imagined him scratching this dogs belly...but he might consider looking into getting him a hell hound puppy if he really wanted one to entice him around camp more...

Grover and I walked between the monster's legs.

Please, Annabeth, I prayed. Don't tell him to sit again.

"All dogs are lapdogs," Thalia snickered.

"You keep that in mind when you're letting air out of your tires," Percy rolled his eyes.

We made it through. Cerberus wasn't any less scary-looking from the back.

Annabeth said, "Good dog!"

She held up the tattered red ball, and probably came to the same conclusion I did-if she rewarded Cerberus, there'd be nothing left for another trick.

She threw the ball anyway. The monster's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"How did you do that?" I asked her, amazed.

"Obedience school," she said breathlessly, and I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes.

Percy's hands twitched, he could so vividly imagine wanting to lean in and hug her he was sure it was a real memory for a moment.

Nico felt bad for him! It was like he kept losing his mother over and over, this repeat realization the love of his life wasn't here with him and he wished she were. It was strange though, seeing him be so, normal. He wished he could offer words of comfort for Percy because he knew exactly how that felt with his sister residing down there, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to take his hand and promise it would be okay or just sympathize like Thalia was for him as she rubbed his shoulder and promised they were almost done with this book.

Odd how he'd never questioned before what exactly he hoped Percy would ever want from him back.

"When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

Thalia felt as useless as Percy did now as she wished to comfort her friend who had never mentioned this either! What had happened to the poor dog, had Fredrick gotten rid of him? Had a monster attacked, the dog saving the little girl? How soon after this mess before she'd finally run away?

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at my shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth stopped.

She turned to face the dog, which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

Nico had never expected to have anything in common with Annabeth before, with one outstanding exception, but this day was just full of surprises! Maybe somebody would actually want to go visit the Underworld with him, see there was more to the place than death and betrayal.

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I-I promise." Annabeth turned to us. "Let's go."

Grover and I pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"Is this a Saturday morning special now?" Alex demanded. "Is Arthur going to pop up somewhere and thank us for continuing this contribution because of viewers like you?"

"I can't even promise no talking aardvarks are going to show up, what do you want from me?" Percy groaned.

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody, even monsters, needed a little attention once in a while.

Jason was now more convinced than ever maybe he wasn't the only one who was missing something, maybe Camp-Half Blood was too when it came to all of this stuff. Not every monster needed a sword to fell it, Percy's plan had worked.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pretended not to see Annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek as she listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend.

"Chapter was over," Nico whispered as he handed the book to Will, who purposely met his eyes as he took it.

He let their hands brush together over the orange binding, just slightly, and smiled warmly before turning away. The darkness in him already felt a little bit, less. This was doing him some good, he was sure of it.

#Percy Jackson #PJO #Percabeth #solangleo #solanglo #Will solace #Nico di Angelo #Alex Fierro #magnus chase #fierrochase #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #Hearthstone #reading the books #fanfiction

[maliro-t]

this is maybe a weird ip combination, but i was talking to a friend yesterday about grief in tms5 compared  to w*nd*v*sion bc the most recent ep got me thinking (this is a pretty long post about the former, sorry).

So Vision says “What is grief, if not love persevering?”, which is such a great line, and really resonated with a lot of people, including myself, and it’s really maybe the crux of this series that has been imo a really great exploration of grief. The whole ep was so impactful for me, and I had a moment after where I just went. Huh. In an entire season, tm never said that once. I think there are moments where they come close- Alice and Hamish’s conversation about his wife maybe, or that one fleeting genuine moment between Eliot and Fen in 5.11, or we could rope in the mountain of ghosts if you really stretch, but I think all of those still miss that mark.

So like, they frame the whole season around grief, but they don’t really say anything about it, or tell a valuable story about it. It feels honestly like they spend most of their time treating it like an obstacle that needs to be overcome and like, what are they trying to say with that? That it sucks? Because I would say that in general, people know that! Or was it that people who DON’T get over it have some sort of pity-worthy-but-ultimately-condemnable character defect? Like I’m sure they were aiming more to show how different people process things in different ways, and that wallowing forever can destroy you, which is...true, and maybe half executed well, but it also doesn’t feel valuable (especially when their queer characters are disproportionately targeted by it), and seems like it tries to put an acceptable timeline on Getting Over It Completely which just kinda Sucks. It probably wouldn’t harp on it this much if they hadn’t been so up their own asses at sdcc trying to explain how important and worthwhile this kind of story was. 

It’s also part of why where Eliot ends up at the end of the season feels so heinous, because he really is in pretty much the same place he started; he’s the only character who really ISN’T given the opportunity to ‘overcome’ grief. Again I don’t even feel like that’s a valuable story, but he just feel so singled out and it fucking Sucks that even within their shitty framework he ends up kind of damned. I think the stuff with Charlton was supposed to counteract it a little- I maintain that he says some good things that sort of recognize why tdk stuff was maybe not great, and as much as I Hate this I do actually think those little mosaic parallels were Intentional as part of that. The way Eliot actually reacts though is so not indicative of growth or any actual healing- it feels more regressive, like s1 Eliot just kind of taking what’s being offered to him to cope, and it’s Weird and Sad, besides the whole thing just being laughable.

And like, for the record, I’ve said this a few times, but I am someone who is really glad they watched s5, and really didn’t agree with a lot of the issues people on here took with it. But that also doesn’t mean that it was actually good on the whole, and one of it’s main failures was...kind of the exact thing they apparently felt so strongly about they had to make a whole season for which just. ugh.

My main reaction after 5.03 aired (which I love, and am grateful for) was just. AGONY. I could not fathom why this story about so much pain (and specifically queer pain) was the one that they wanted to tell, and unfortunately by the end there just isn’t really enough pay off for it to be worth it. 

Anyways idk if any of this makes sense lol, I’m kind of rambling at this point and I don’t know if anyone who follows me even Watched season 5 besides like One (1) person lmao. I have more to say Always, even like a year after the fact.

#it speaks #apologies to anyone who read all of this with their eyeballs #i can't get myself to shut up apparently! this is my version of journaling #also fwiw i'm mooching off my sister's d+ account lol; i'm not gonna pay disney to watch the Singular show i was interested in #edit like 2 weeks later: i'm pretty sure no one will try to pick this bone w me but. i did go rewatch that fen and eliot scene in 5.11 #bc that's the scene that cames closest to this in my memory #gonna be as brief as i can bc this is really for me #so el does say you can love something even after it's gone BUT there's a nuance that separates it from the vision line which i think #is important #bc the reason that line really really resonated with me is bc it recognizes that the grief itself is a part of that love #if that makes sense- like the being in pain etc that's all just. a continuation of that love; that you aren't loving them still in Spite of #grief or loss etc #it's the merging of the two that felt significant to me; and it really felt like that was missing from tm (if not being pushed against) #blah blah blah #sorry to sound fake deep in my defense i didn't write the line #but u know. it was a little bit deep for me #pretty simple but also just something i needed to hear. got my gears grinding

[maswritingblog]

The Arrangement - Part Four

Summary: After their first failure, Lucy and Marcus continue with the schedule as planned and hope for the best. 

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY!), Oral (f receiving), mentions of trying to conceive, mentions of fertility, pregnancy tests (in case that is triggering for anyone) Unedited because I literally finished it and wanted to post it, so sorry for any mistakes.

A/N: Here is the next part! I hope you all enjoy it and I once again apologize for the long wait for this chapter. It’s a long one, coming in at about 7k words.

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Lucy’s phone chimed on her desk beside her, pulling her attention away from the email she was composing. She had been needing a break, her eyes starting to get tired from staring at her computer screen all morning. She took the opportunity to draft the email and sat back in her cushy office chair, unlocking her phone to view the notification.

Ovulation day!

The two words were framed by little flowers from the theme for the dumb cycle tracking app she’d downloaded a few days after she had started sleeping with Marcus. She hadn’t realized it was her ovulation day and she cursed inwardly; not only was it Tuesday, she also had to work late tonight, so spending an extra night at Marcus’s wasn’t an option.

Dammit. She sighed heavily, placing her phone back on her desk as she thought for a moment. She couldn’t afford to not stay late tonight, but Marcus couldn’t afford to lose one of the best days they had. That really only left one option…but she wasn’t sure if Marcus would agree to it, or if she was up for it either.

She debated it for a long few minutes before she decided it was a risk she was willing to take, and she grabbed her phone to send Marcus a message.

Meet me in the parking garage in five minutes. Level 8.

She hoped she wasn’t being too crazy, that he wouldn’t think she was out of her mind when she revealed her plan. Honestly, she was out of her mind for even thinking about doing something like this at work.

Marcus’s reply came back almost instantly. Everything okay?

Instead of answering, she dropped her phone on her desk and pushed her chair back. She made sure her computer was locked and secured before slipping out of her office and heading towards the elevators. She tried not to look into Marcus’s office on the way, though she knew he must be confused about the situation.

She wanted the mystery to work in her favor.

Level eight of the parking garage was one of the levels that didn’t get much traffic. It was where the extra government vehicles were parked and agents would use them occasionally when they couldn’t use the ones assigned to them. The secluded level would be perfect so long as there weren’t any agents needing a temporary vehicle.

Lucy rode the elevator to floor six and got off, walking quickly to the SUV she’d been issued for her team but didn’t get to use that often. It might as well get some use now, even if it wasn’t exactly what the big-wigs had in mind when they’d handed her the keys.

Driving up to the eighth floor, she moved down the two rows of matching black SUVs and finally parked at the end of the row on the left side. She only hoped it was far enough away that nobody would notice anything.

She tried not to think about the fact that she was slightly turned on by the idea of doing this. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught, of the consequences of being found doing something so inappropriate on government property.

Stepping out of her car, she walked around to lean against the back end as she waited for Marcus. It only took another minute before the elevator dinged and he stepped out, looking around with a look of confusion on his face before he spotted her and headed her way.

“Lucy? What’s going on?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of her, his brown eyes searching her face for any kind of answer.

For a brief moment, she almost wanted to chicken out. It would be easy to change her mind, even if she would have to come up with an explanation as to why she had dragged him to the parking garage in the middle of the work day.

“So, it’s Tuesday,” she started slowly, trying to decide how to approach the situation.

He nodded slowly. “…yes…”

Lucy laughed lightly, more at the situation that she’d put herself in more than anything else. “It’s Tuesday, and I have to stay late tonight to work on the briefing for tomorrow. But the thing is…I’m ovulating. Today’s the highest chance for pregnancy according to my stupid app, so I didn’t want to miss the chance to try.”

As she rambled, he seemed to put it together. His eyes widened nearly comically and he glanced around the parking level as if someone would be lurking in the shadows watching them.

“You—you want to do it here?” he asked, voice laced with surprise. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

She nodded quickly. “I know it’s crazy, but this could be the day and this is the only time we’ll have to try. We don’t exactly have time to drive anywhere offsite, and I’m not about to do it in a bathroom or a supply closet where anyone could walk in. I figured this would be the best place since nobody really comes up to this level.”

Marcus sputtered, seeming to lose all ability to speak. “W-What? How—How?”

She wondered if he was flustered because he thought she was nuts, or if he liked the idea. She had to admit that the prospect of getting caught had an affect on her in a way she hadn’t realized before; perhaps it had something to do with breaking the rules.

“The back seats lay down, leaves a good amount of room in the trunk. But we don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it; I just won’t be able come over tonight and I didn’t want to miss an ovulation day.”

He was silent and she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Sometimes she felt like she could read Marcus like a book, and sometimes she felt like he was locked in a safe and she didn’t know the combination. As he eyeballed the back of the SUV, she wondered if she had truly lost her mind when she had thought this was a good idea.

Finally, he gave her a pointed look. “Are you comfortable with this? I don’t want you to think you have to do this just for me.”

Of course, he was being a gentleman about this. Of course, he was putting her comfort above his. It was so on brand for him, and yet that didn’t stop her from being surprised by it. She appreciated it, while also wishing he would think of himself more often.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m the one suggesting this, remember?”

Marcus paused in thought for a moment, his eyes moving from the SUV to her multiple times before he finally nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He agreed.

She wasn’t sure why she was surprised, maybe because she thought public sex was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. If she were being honest with herself, it wasn’t a line she had ever imagined crossing either. Desperate times called for desperate measures, though, right? Something told her this wasn’t what the person who had coined that phrase had in mind.

“Okay.” She echoed, moving to one of the back doors and motioning for him to go around to the other side.

Pulling the door open, she reached for the lever to lower the seat on her side and watched as Marcus did the same. With the back row lying flat, there was plenty of room for the two of them to lay down, which seemed like the best way to not be spotted should anyone actually come to this level. Climbing in was a bit awkward, but they managed to get the doors shut behind them. Kneeling in the back of the SUV, they stared at each other for a beat.

“So, how do we do this?” Marcus wondered, asking the same question she had been mulling over in her head.

She didn’t know why she had to have the answer for everything, but it could have something to do with the fact that she had initiated this encounter. She had been confident about this idea when she’d come up with it, but now she found herself blanking on the next step. Perhaps she didn’t have it in her to be this spontaneous?

“I didn’t really have this all planned out…” she admitted slowly. The awkwardness felt like the first time all over again, and it almost made her laugh.

Marcus nodded. “Okay, so I don’t really want to be caught buck naked at work, so I’m thinking that we stay as clothed as possible.” He suggested.

It was something she could agree with. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. So, pants only then?”

“Pants only.”

Lucy reached down to work on her belt and he did the same. Once her pants were undone and she’d pushed them down her thighs slightly, she sat fully and started pushing them down her legs. It wasn’t the easiest task in the back of the SUV and she found she had to lay down a bit to even get them to her knees.

Marcus’s hands were gently pushing hers away then and he pulled the tight slacks down her legs.

“If I had known this was gonna happen, I would have worn a skirt today.” She joked, slipping her shoes off so he could pull her pants off and push them out of the way.

“Definitely would have been easier.” He teased as he slotted his hips between her thighs and leaned over her to press his lips to hers.

His belt was hanging open, the cool metal pressing against the skin of her inner thigh and making her jump slightly. Their tongues tangled and she wanted to run her hands through his hair the way he liked, but she didn’t want to make it obvious what he’d been doing away from his desk. Instead, she reached down and finished opening his pants for him, lowering the zipper and slipping her hand inside to palm him over his briefs.

Marcus groaned into her mouth, pressing his hips into her hand as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip and then her chin before his lips returned to hers in a heated kiss. He rolled his hips against her palm and she squeezed him gently, pulling another groan from his throat, followed by his hand grasping her wrist in warning.

Lucy chuckled against his lips, beginning to squeeze again only to be surprised by his next move.

The grip on her wrist tightened and he yanked her hand from his pants, pinning her wrist down next to her head. He pulled away to stare down at her, his chest heaving as his eyes narrowed playfully at her.

“What?” she asked in feigned innocence, stifling a laugh.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he simply shook his head at her with a laugh of his own. He released her wrist and supported his weight on his hand next to her head, the other reaching down to begin pushing his pants and briefs down.

Taking it as a cue, she reached down to do the same with her underwear, sliding them down her legs as best she could as he pushed his down to his knees.

“Can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” He commented as he situated himself between her legs again, his erection bobbing against his stomach where he’d pulled his dress shirt up out of the way of any potential messes.

She wanted to ask him if it was as exhilarating to him as it was to her, but she thought that maybe he didn’t see it that way, that he’d find it weird that she did. She’d discovered a lot of things about herself since they’d begun sleeping together, a lot of things that excited her despite the fact that she’d never considered them in that light before. Perhaps she was more depraved than she realized.

“We don’t have to.” She reminded him, just in case he was having second thoughts. She wasn’t sure if he was given the way he was already so ready, the tip of him already leaking. Despite his body’s reaction, though, she wanted to give him the chance to back out.

Marcus’s met her gaze, and his voice came out soft despite the way his eyes had darkened with lust. “I want to.” He reassured her while silently asking if she still wanted this as well.

There was a long beat of silence as she stared up at him. She admired his handsome features, the way a lock of his perfectly styled hair had fallen onto his forehead and the way his nose curved down towards his plump lips. That single dimple that she found so endearing.

It still baffled her how he didn’t already have a beautiful wife and family.

She found herself unable to respond verbally, so she reached up to pull his mouth back down to hers.

He got the hint, pressing his body down close to hers as he reached down to position himself at her entrance. He slid his tip up and down her folds a couple of times, gathering her wetness before pressing into her slowly. He eased in until his hips were flush against hers, both moaning in unison as their lips parted, their foreheads pressed together.

There was no going back now; Lucy’s knees brushed against his sides as she hitched her legs up further on his hips, pulling him deeper inside her with a soft sigh against his mouth.

His hips drew back slowly and then he slid forward again, repeating the movement a few times. As good as he felt, as good as the slide of him inside her walls made her feel, she knew they didn’t have the same amount of time they usually did and anyone could come up to this floor at any time.

“We have to hurry.” She gasped as he filled her again.

He pulled almost completely out of her and paused. For just a moment she thought he might stop, but then he thrust forward, driving into her hard and fast, wasting no time before he did it again, and again.

Lucy clung to his shoulders, hands fisting in the material of his shirt as she held on, small and breathy moans escaping her each time he filled her. She knew his shirt might be wrinkled by her hands, but at least he could cover it with his suit jacket if he needed to. For now, all she needed to be focused on was the pleasure rolling through her with his movements, and the hope that the risk they were taking would pay off in the end.

The rhythm they had created had the SUV rocking gently; if anyone saw they would definitely know what was happening inside.

Marcus was hovering over her, supporting his weight on one hand as the other hooked under her right knee to press her leg closer to her chest. The new angle had him driving deeper inside and brushing against her just right; the slap of his hips against hers as he worked at a bruising pace only echoed by their sounds of pleasure.

One of Lucy’s hands scrambled down from his shoulder, desperate for purchase. She gripped at his side where his shirt was raised, nails biting into the skin as she rolled her hips up to meet his.

Marcus groaned above her in response to the scratch of her nails and as he thrust forward again, he took a moment to grind his pelvis against hers.

“Oh, fuck.” She gasped, reaching up to cup his jaw and pull his mouth back down to hers.

Their tongues tangled as they moaned into each other’s mouths, hips working together to get them closer to their release. Just as Lucy felt herself approaching the cliff, the ding of the elevator startled them.

They both jumped, freezing their movements as Marcus hunched over her as if he was trying to shield her semi-nude body from any prying eyes. His head lifted slightly to peek out the window and Lucy waited with baited breath for someone to catch them.

They would surely be fired if they were caught having sex at work.

Marcus’s brown eyes were locked on whoever had arrived on the parking level. The sound of voices filled the concrete structure and Lucy thought for sure things were going to end badly.

Unexpectedly, Marcus slowly rolled his hips against hers, causing her eyes to flutter involuntarily.

“Wha—?”

“Ssshh.” Marcus shushed softly, eyes not leaving the window as he pulled out slowly only to fill her again at the same pace.

Was he really doing this? As he rocked his hips again, it seemed he was.

His eyes never left the window as he moved slowly over her. She could hear voices on the parking level, although they were several vehicles away. Each push and pull of his hips had him brushing up against the sensitive spot inside her and it only served to drive her closer and closer to the edge.

Although she tried to stop it, she couldn’t completely hide the small moan that escaped her as his hips ground against hers. She knew she needed to keep quiet for both their sakes, but it just felt too good.

Marcus gently shushed her again, the tips of his first three fingers pressing delicately to her lips to keep her quiet.

God, there was something about the need to keep quiet that had her so close.

The soft thudding of car doors shutting echoed through the parking garage and Marcus used the opportunity to snap his hips against hers just a little harder, pulling another whimper from her throat as her eyes fluttered closed.

An engine started before the vehicle could be heard driving down the ramp exiting the level and Marcus pulled his hand away from her mouth, driving his hips forward as he returned to the pace they’d set before the interruption.

Lucy tried to ignore the way she missed his fingers over her lips, choosing to drag his mouth back down to hers for a heated kiss, lifting her hips to meet his hard thrusts as one of his arms wrapped around her to hold her body against his.

“Fuck.” Lucy gasped against his mouth, feeling herself once again on the precipice. One of her hands fisted in his shirt again, while the other seemed to have a mind of its own and slid around to grasp a handful of his backside as if it would help guide his movements. She couldn’t think straight, all she knew was how good he felt, and then she was tumbling over the edge with a string of moans.

Marcus buried his face in her neck, working her through her orgasm with a groan of his own at the way she pulsed around him. His arm tightened around her, fingers digging into her ribcage as his thrusts become shallow and deliberate as he desperately chased after his own release.

Lucy’s hand left his shirt, reaching up to smooth through the hair on the back of his head as if she was encouraging him to let go. Her nails dug into his backside as she gently tugged on the soft locks of hair, eliciting a moan from where he was tucked into her neck.

A little encouragement was all it took and he was there, warmth blossoming inside her as he filled her with rope after rope. He moaned slowly, nuzzling against her neck as he came down from his high.

They laid there like that for a minute or two as they cooled down, tangled up in each other despite the fact that they didn’t have the luxury of their normal wind down time. Even though they needed to get back to work before anyone noticed they were both missing, neither of them moved. Perhaps it had been the fact that they had almost been caught or that they had done this at work, but it had made this time more exhilarating, and in turn had exhausted them.

Regardless, Lucy didn’t mind a little extra time with his arms around her.

After what felt like five minutes or more, she rubbed both her hand up and down his back slowly. “We have to get back to work.” She spoke softly, her voice raw.

Marcus nodded against her throat. “Mmhmm.” He mumbled, arm squeezing around her tighter for several seconds before he slowly pulled back to look down at her, his eyes darkened with something other than lust.

Lucy’s fingers brushed over his cheekbone and she glanced at the fogged over window over their heads. “We totally missed the opportunity to recreate Titanic.” She noted with a chuckle.

He laughed lightly, brushing her hair off her forehead. “Maybe next time.” He offered, still slightly out of breath from the exertion.

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmm…are you trying to get caught with your pants down regularly?”

“Well, I was thinking we’d park somewhere more discrete, but if you wanted to do it in the middle of the road, that’s fine too.”

She shook her head at him, rolling her eyes playfully. “As thrilling as it was to almost lose my job, I think we should stick with discretion in the future.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh, it was thrilling for you, huh?” he teased.

Another eyeroll. “Getting less thrilling by the second.”

He snickered, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a chaste kiss that quickly turned heated.

She allowed it for a few seconds before pushing against his chest. “Okay, okay, we gotta get back to work.” As much as she would have enjoyed potentially going for another round, she knew they could both only be away from their offices for so long before it became suspicious.

“I know, I know.” He sighed, taking a second before he slipped out of her and rolled onto his back, beginning to put his clothes back together.

Lucy reached for her underwear, pulling them back on before moving for her pants. It was a bit awkward trying to redress in the back of the SUV, but they quickly got themselves presentable.

“Okay, I’m gonna drive this back to where I originally parked and you can go back to your office. That way we don’t show back up at the same time.”

He nodded as he opened the car door and climbed out. “That’s probably a good idea. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”

She rounded the back end of the car and reached up to fix his collar before smoothing her hands over the wrinkles on his shoulders from her hands. “Well, I think they’ll probably figure it out when I get pregnant.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

Marcus paused, eyes widening slightly as he took in her words. Lucy didn’t seem to register what she’d said, adjusting her own shirt as best she could using the reflection in the car window.

“When?”

She turned at the surprise in his voice, finding his face open with awe. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?” She teased him with a chuckle. Inwardly, she too realized that she’d said when instead of if. Maybe it was just positive thinking, or maybe she just knew it was going to work out for him. As good a guy as Marcus Pike was, he deserved to have a family and surely whatever deity reigned above would see that.

“Y-Yeah,” he swallowed hard. “I guess it was just different hearing you sound so sure about it.”

“Look, I know I’ve been sort of a Debbie Downer the last few days—”

“—No! It was rough when things didn’t work out, I understand why you were upset. I was, too. It’s just nice to hear you feeling positive again.”

Lucy grinned at him, stepping closer and resting her hands on his hips. “Well, that would be the endorphins, probably. You know, from the mind-blowing sex we just had?”

He couldn’t help but laugh in response, nodding his head in agreement. “Well, I suppose you’re right.”

“I always am.”

Stretching onto her toes, she pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss before she stepped away. If she let it go any further, they might end up in the SUV again.

“Okay, get back upstairs before someone notices.”

“As you wish.”

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Peeing on a stick always felt so weird to her. She’d had her fair share of pregnancy scares in college, so it was nothing new, but the act of trying to land as much urine on the tip of a stick as she could was always odd. Having to stop several times to use multiple tests was just as strange, but soon she was standing in front of the bathroom sink with three pregnancy tests in front of her.

Two minutes and she’d know. Two minutes and her life would either change for the better or continue to be stressful for the short amount of time Marcus had left before his surgery.

“Are you sure it’s not too soon?” the man in question asked from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

She’d opened the bathroom door after she’d peed on the sticks, not wanting to wait for the results alone.

“I don’t know, these tests say you can take them as early as ten days after unprotected sex.” She said, studying the box again. “I mean, we’ve done it plenty of times since the SUV, but something about that time felt like it worked.”

“Probably just those endorphins.”

She gave him a wry look, rolling her eyes even though she knew he was probably right. She couldn’t explain it, but something about that time felt right. And, yeah, maybe it was just the rush she’d gotten from almost being caught or the fact that it had been one of their best moments together, but she still needed to check. Besides, the only harm that could come from a negative result would be disappointment, and she was already chalk full of that.

“It’s been two minutes.” Marcus said softly, breaking her from her thoughts.

She took a deep breath and stepped closer, leaning down to check the tests. Her shoulders slumped.

They were all negative.

When Marcus spoke again, his voice was closer, in the room with her. “Maybe we did it too early.” He offered softly.

Lucy sighed heavily, scooping up the tests and dropping them in the trash can with a loud thunk. This was the first time they’d tried actually taking tests—the first failure had come in the form of her menstrual cycle—and she had hoped for the kind of excitement that happened in movies all the time where the couple takes the test and see the positive result and cry in each other’s arms; that was a sham.

“Hey, hey,” He seemed to pick up on her mood shift immediately, his hands moving to rest on her shoulders. “It’s probably just too early. Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time? Marcus, you only have like forty days before your surgery. I thought this would be easier. Like…I know that people struggle with this stuff all the time but we’ve also been having a lot of unprotected sex. How could one of those times not have taken?”

He maneuvered her body to face him, his hands returning to her shoulders where he continued to squeeze reassuringly. “Sometimes it just takes time, remember? Don’t get so stressed out, it doesn’t help.”

“It’s hard not to be stressed when your clock is running out.”

There was a long silence between them before he perked up. “Let’s go out tonight. Blow off some steam, have some drinks. It’ll be good for the both of us.”

Lucy shook her head. “We’re not supposed to drink, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “One night won’t hurt us, I promise. We both need to relax a little.”

For a moment, she thought about it. What could it hurt to have some fun for one night? If the stress was already ruining things for them, then alcohol could only help, right? If it loosened her up and made her less stressed, that had to help a bit. Perhaps it was a good idea.

Finally, she caved. “Okay, okay. Let’s go out.”

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Lucy couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her as they stumbled into her apartment a few hours later. She was lingering somewhere between tipsy and fully drunk, feeling good after a night drinking away her worries; they weren’t supposed to drink while trying to conceive, at least according to all the research, but it had been nice to unwind after feeling so stressed out. Stress wasn’t good for conceiving either, so she figured alcohol wouldn’t hurt this once.

Marcus, who was equally feeling the effects of the alcohol, locked the door behind them and ushered her into the kitchen. He immediately went for the cabinet he knew housed her glasses and pulled one down, filling it with water from the faucet and taking a gulp before handing it to her.

Even wasted he was a gentleman.

Their eyes locked over the rim of the glass as she drank and she slowly lowered the glass to the countertop, eyes never leaving his. The silence was palpable, the tension in the room so thick she could cut it with a knife if she wanted to. She reached for him and he met her halfway, their mouths meeting in a searing kiss.

His hands were all over her as hers bunched in his shirt, their tongues tangling, and Lucy was reminded once again that she wasn’t as good at keeping things casual as she would have preferred. She wondered if he felt the same or if this was easier for him.

He trailed kissed down her jaw and neck, nipping at her skin gently and soothing over the spots with a flick of his tongue as she panted, a whimper escaping her as he sucked lightly on that sensitive spot beneath her ear.

He didn’t stop there. He pressed kisses to her collarbone and then her chest, moving lower until he was kneeling in front of her. His hands brushed against the skin of her thighs and slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, his eyes turning up to meet hers as he pushed the fabric until it was bunched around her hips.

She gasped as his lips pressed against her inner thigh, light as a feather as he trailed kisses upwards. In all the time they’d spent together, they hadn’t done this—they’d been more focused on getting straight to the point—and she felt like her heart was about to explode out of her chest.

Fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, his eyes on hers once again as he began to drag them down her hips and thighs until they fell to pool around her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside as she gripped the edge of the counter in anticipation. She was already soaked.

His hand gripped underneath her left knee and he lifted the leg to hook it over his shoulder. His eyes finally left hers as he began trailing kisses up her leg from her knee until he reached the spot she wanted him most. There was a moment of pause as he seemed to take her in, before he leaned forward and dragged his tongue through her folds in one smooth stroke, ending at the bundle of nerves, which he circled slowly with the tip of his tongue.

Lucy gasped, one hand leaving the counter to thread her fingers through his hair. Her eyes fell closed as she relished the feeling.

He certainly knew what he was doing as he got to work, and before long she was moaning breathlessly as she clung to him. She canted her hips slowly against his mouth, and she wasn’t sure which she liked more: his tongue on her clit or when his tongue trailed further down and his nose rubbed against it just right.

Her right leg was shaking as it tried to support her weight as she verged on the edge, her body was on fire. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten so good at this, but she didn’t want to think about the women in his past too much either.

His tongue flicked her clit once more before his mouth closed around it and he sucked lightly. It was all it took to send her over the precipice with a whine. Her fingers tugged on his hair and she struggled to stay upright, and he gripped her hips to keep her standing as he lapped at her center and slowly brought her down from her high.

“Shit.”

Marcus chuckled against her, pulling away to look up at her once more; his face was shiny from her wetness, and he licked his lips before wiping his face on the back of his hand as he stood.

She reached for him, pulling his mouth back to hers for a kiss, tasting herself on him. That had definitely sobered her up. She could feel his hardness pressing against her hip and although her legs were shaking, the release sent a thrill through her and she reached down to quickly undo his belt.

Perhaps he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, or maybe going down on her had sent him into a frenzy like some kind of shark, because he gripped her hips and turned her around to face the other way. As her hands landed on the countertop, she could hear his belt jingling and then the unzipping of his pants. Her teeth bit into the pillow of her bottom lip in anticipation, still amped up from her high.

The rustling of fabric told her he’d freed himself, and then his hands were on her hips; he pushed the skirt of her dress up higher and stepped closer, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down her spine. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation and then he asked with a raspy voice: “Is this okay?”

It was something she found she really loved about him—he had already brought her to orgasm with his tongue and they’d had sex numerous times, but he was still asking if it was okay to take her from behind. Anyone else would have laughed, but she found it to be very attractive.

“Yes.” She replied, barely over a whisper at the thought of what was to come.

He nudged her feet further apart with one of his and then she felt the tip of him brushing through her folds. She leaned forward over the counter more and angled her hips better and then he was pushing forward slowly until he was fully seated inside her.

She moaned softly at the feeling, pressing back against him.

Marcus pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her scent as he remained still for a moment as if he was collecting himself, or maybe gathering the strength to continue. Then, ever so slowly, he withdrew until just the tip was left inside of her. He paused again, adjusted his grip on her hips, and then thrust forward quickly to fill her completely. He repeated the motion several times until he was pounding into her.

She wasn’t quite sure how he managed to be gentle and rough at the same time, and the pace he had chosen surprised her; not that she didn’t think he had it in him, but that it was new. If it stole the breath from her lungs, she wasn’t complaining. He mouthed at her neck and shoulder, where the thin strap of her dress had fallen down her arm. The contrast between the gentle grazing of his teeth on her skin and the brutal thrusts inside her had her weak in the knees.

“Fuck.” She moaned, doubling over to press her forehead to the countertop, relishing in the cool surface against her heated skin.

Marcus’s hands were gripping her hips tightly, his own hips meeting her backside over and over and creating a delicious noise that echoed off the kitchen tiles, the grunts and groans spilling from his lips matched her own. One of his hands smoothed up her back and he gripped her shoulder, angling his hips on the next thrust and pulling her back against him.

Lucy’s breath left her again in a string of moans as the new angle hit perfectly every time.

“Stop that racket!” a voice shouted from the other side of the wall, along with a fist pounding.

She couldn’t help but laugh at her neighbor, an elderly man who made tons of noise but hated when anyone else made even a peep. She heard Marcus chuckling behind her, but the intrusion only seemed to spur him on and his hips smacked harder against hers. It had her moaning louder, and she realized that had been his intention all along.

Though she probably wouldn’t admit it, she liked that he wanted to antagonize her neighbor.

The hand that had been at her shoulder slid down her side and around her front, dipping between her legs to circle her clit with the pads of his fingers. As she reached to grip the edge of the counter, her arm knocked into the forgotten glass of water and sent it tumbling to the floor where it surprisingly didn’t shatter. Neither one of them paid it any mind as their releases approached rapidly.

The neighbor was pounding on the wall again, but it was doing him more harm than good as the sounds echoed louder against the tiles.

“I am going to call the landlord!” the elderly man yelled on the other side.

“S-So call them!” Lucy shouted back, just as her orgasm hit her like a freight train. If the neighbor hadn’t made such a big deal, she would have tried to stifle her moans, but instead she lifted her head from where it had been resting on the countertop and let him hear it just because she knew it would infuriate him.

Marcus’s face was buried in her neck and his warm breath huffed against her skin as he laughed at her reaction. His movements were frantic, desperate, as he chased his own release and it didn’t take long for him to stiffen behind her. He pressed his body close to hers and groaned into her ear as he filled her.

They were still for a long moment, panting as they came down.

“I don’t think your neighbor likes you.” He joked, pressing a kiss to her neck.

Lucy laughed out loud, knowing it would also annoy the man in question. “I don’t really care.” She shrugged the shoulder his head wasn’t resting against.

“I’ll leave earbuds on his doormat.”

“No, let him listen. It’s probably the most action he’s gotten in decades.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a Tuesday night two weeks later that it happens. She’s reorganizing her bathroom purely due to boredom and she stumbles across a box of pregnancy tests. She peeked inside and felt her heart race a little; there was one test left.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she pulled the test out and debated using it. They had been keeping up with their schedule, meeting at his place minus a couple of times when they really wanted to annoy her neighbor. Even though the three tests she’d taken two weeks ago had been negative, it didn’t mean she wasn’t pregnant then. False negatives happened all the time if the test was taken too early.

Maybe now is the right time.

She ripped the plastic wrapper off the test and moved to the toilet, glad she hadn’t used the bathroom yet. As she finished and set the test on the sink so she could wash her hands, she glanced up at herself in the mirror.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Luce.” She whispered to herself. She knew if it came back negative, which it more than likely would, it would only hurt more.

She had to step out of the room because she knew it would only make the minutes go by slower. What was that saying? A watched pot never boils? So, a watched pregnancy test never develops? She moved to the kitchen to start putting away the dishes in the dishwasher. By the time she finished, five minutes had passed.

It was time.

“Shit.” She whispered to herself, shuffling nervously towards the bathroom.

What was she going to do if it was negative? Marcus didn’t have much time left, if it wasn’t going to happen then that would break both their hearts.

But what if it was positive? It was what they’d wanted all along, but she couldn’t help but feel her stomach flip with nerves at the idea that all their efforts had paid off. It wasn’t because she didn’t want a baby, but because she did.

The test was sitting upright on the counter, all it would take was for her to step forward and she’d know. One step forward. It was just one step.

Knowing if she didn’t do it now, she’d never do it, she stepped forward quickly and snatched the test up, lifting it to stare down at the tiny plastic window.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

It was positive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I didn’t add pregnancy on the list of warnings because I didn’t want to spoil it. But also, if you are reading a fic that is specifically about getting pregnant, that is kind of a given.

Tag list: (strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you)

@absurdthirst @meanperegrine @hopeamarsu @bison-writes @giselatropicana @melispunk @hnt-escape @cheekygeek05 @bluemoon-glen @star-wars-hell @lawfulgranola @underwaterwonderscapes @words-way-of-life @kesskirata @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @nicolethered @fangirl-316 @finnisrioting @janelongxox @hellovanessax @a-trial-run-on-paper @christina-loves @moonlightburned @generallybrontidefeelings @shakespeareanwannabe @griscka75 @neganwifey25-blog @tacticalsparkles @daffodin @fastandfeminist @valentinasubmarina @a-skov @ptutts @librariantothejedi @janebby @redsilentwolf28 @tuskens-mando @spideysimpossiblegirl @skeletonstwins 

Please let me know if you would like to be added to (or removed from) the tag list!

#The Arrangement #marcus pike #marcus pike smut #pedro pascal smut #marcus pike fic #the mentalist #pedro pascal fic #mywriting #didn't add pregnancy as a warning bc i didn't want to spoil it so i apologize

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Siren’s Reflections (Siren!Shin x Reader, Part 2)

Happy Shin’s Daylight release day! My apologies for the long wait with this one but it is finally here!

This one shot takes place alongside Siren’s Call (which I would strongly recommend you read before tackling this one), rather than acting as a sequel as I wanted a chance to explore Shin’s perspective. I do intend to write a part 3, which will act as a direct continuation of the events in Siren’s Call but there are a couple of other fics I want to finish before getting to it. That’s enough rambling from me, enjoy~

Potential triggers include: some violent imagery, mention of consumption of human flesh and magical compulsion, If anyone needs me to add any other warnings then please let me know!

Shin hated the lagoon. He hated the calm, gentle waters that felt like a mockery of the roaring ocean he’d been born in. He hated the dull, placid fish, so slow nearly all of them had been ripped apart and feasted on by his kin after only a couple of nights of them being contained. He hated all of it, almost as much as he hated the Mer King for sealing him there. 

And that was before the wasting sickness had struck.

As he floated in the cool dark waters, the last rays of sunlight receding from the horizon, it was impossible to escape the memories of watching his people degrade and fall apart, withering into nothing. A fate he’d believed he would share, resigning himself to it the night he’d watched his brother’s diminished form finally collapse in on itself, like all his insides had rotted away, and the outside was the last thing to go. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d resigned himself to death. That had been when he was prostrated on the seafloor before his brother, held down by underlings of that damned sea snake while they accused him of invading their territory—as if they didn’t know the whole ocean rightfully belonged to him and his kin. Shin still couldn’t understand why his brother had bowed his head in exchange for his life, still felt the rage and humiliation of it burning whenever he caught sight of his own sunken left eyelid in his reflection.

He did so now, glancing down at the faintly rippling surface of the water and seeing a dark outline of his own face reflected back at him. Shin remembered thinking he’d have been better off dead when his brother’s claw had gouged out his eyeball—a part of him still did—but things were different now. Not only did he have a chance at escaping and restoring his once grand race, but he would also be achieving what his brother, in the end, could not.

It had just been the two of them for a time, after their father also fell to the sickness. They hadn’t even been able to perform the funeral rites for him; where a siren’s body is given over to the sea that has served them for so long. No, instead the great Siren King’s body had been left as a grim, mouldering soup at the bottom of the lagoon. 

Shin had been so angry, so frustrated, he’d thought he might weld it against the seal. Fiery rage burning so brightly in his veins, it seemed impossible anything would be able to contain it. The seal had managed it though. He’d thrown himself against the invisible barrier trapping them in the lagoon until his body was covered in sores from where the magic had held him back, kept him trapped. 

Eventually his brother had told him off, said that wasting his strength on something so futile was forbidden. Carla had already started to show signs of the sickness by then—dark mottled bruises marred his pale skin and his tail, a once brilliant deep red, had started to fade at the tip, like the life was being slowly bleached from it. Neither of them knew why Shin was the only one who had managed to escape it thus far and, although it went unspoken, neither of them thought he could possibly go much longer without the sickness coming for him too. 

Those final days with his brother had been one of the worst parts of being trapped in the lagoon. Watching the person he’d admired above all others slowly corrode—a miserable, pitiful death. Many nights were spent thinking about just what he might do to the Mer King should he ever force his way free, how he’d delight in shredding the king’s intestines with his claws while the mer was still alive so that he could feel some fraction of the pain and misery that Shin’s race had felt.

It was in those final days that Carla had spoken of his idea on how they might be able to evade the seal. The thought of mating a human made Shin’s stomach churn and from his brother’s expression, he shared the sentiment, but it was the only chance they had of freedom and restoring the siren race. The problem lay in that no humans had come by the lagoon since they’d been confined there. Shin had lost track of how much time had passed since he was able to roam freely in the ocean but he knew it was enough that the Mer King must have done something to keep people away from the lagoon. 

Shin and his brother might have been equipped with a perfect lure to bring humans to them, but a siren’s song was not meant to work across broad stretches of land, not unless they were calling for their mate. There was still a chance, however, that some human might wander close enough for the magic to catch, to reel them in like a fish on a line. And if the mate mark didn’t take, well, at least he and his brother could have one last good meal. 

They’d sung together that night, and the next, and the one after. When the moon rose and their power reached its height they would sing until dawn. Until one day when his brother’s voice ran dry and they both knew it was too late. 

The night Carla died, Shin had tried one last time. He’d sung and sung and sung until he was coughing up blood, casting the net of magic as wide as it would go. But nothing caught. As he’d sank down into the water, throat raw, he’d resigned himself to his fate and curled a tendril of his power around him to let him sink into a deep, long sleep. Perhaps it made him a coward, not facing the sickness head on, but his voice was spent and he couldn’t take so much as looking at the lagoon a moment longer. He hated being trapped. He hated feeling powerless. He hated that his once proud race had putrefied right before his eyes, their meagre remains still taunting him from the bottom of the pool.

And there he would have stayed if it hadn’t been for you—his mate. Well, maybe future mate was the more accurate way of putting it. 

Shin frowned up at the few stars that specked the sky as night began to fully draw in. It probably wasn’t a good idea to try calling for you just yet, no matter how awful the wait was he had a much better chance of bringing you all the way here when the darkness, and in turn his magic, were at their strongest. 

Letting out a low growl of frustration, Shin lay back, floating so he could watch more stars flicker into existence above him. He was getting very very sick of waiting—somehow the closer he got to his goal, the more he itched with impatience.

Truthfully, he couldn’t say exactly how long he’d waited for a chance to leave the lagoon. His sleep in it’s depths had been deep and dreamless and so it had been with some confusion that he’d woken to the scent of human blood in the water around him—your blood. For a moment, he’d thought himself dreaming, or perhaps even dead, until he’d registered the plants that had grown over him, cocooning him in the same spot he’d fallen asleep. Shin had made fast work of freeing himself, sharp fins easily slicing through stalks and tangled leaves with just a few swipes of his tail. He had hardly been able to believe it, there was a human in the lagoon!

He’d swum up to the surface, taking care not to breach it too suddenly in case you startled and fled before he could catch hold of you. A quick scan over the faintly rippling water was all he needed to spot you. There you were, sitting on a cluster of rocks. 

Shin was made to live under the moonlight and in the darkest depths of the ocean—he could make out every inch of you in the dim light. He’d gotten lucky, you clearly weren’t a child, but you weren’t so old that the mate mark would be unlikely to take either. You looked straight at him then, turning your head and squinting into the darkness. He froze for a moment, still drinking you in, one hand was held to your chest, a dark stain running down it and into the water. Shin could faintly taste your blood in his mouth and in that moment he made his decision. You’d do.

Sinking back into the water, he’d powered towards you. Just because you were going to be his mate didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with you first. And it had been fun, hearing you scream when he’d grabbed you, dragging you down into the water while you struggled, terror clear on your face. It had been a long time since Shin had been able to toy with a human, and while you might not have been his first choice as a mate, that frightened expression of yours certainly did something for him. So was it really any wonder that he’d gotten carried away?

In all fairness, he genuinely hadn’t thought you’d be able to make it to the shore when he’d let you go. You’d been trembling so badly he’d doubted you’d last any time at all before your limbs gave up on you and you sank beneath the surface, struggling pathetically against your inevitable demise until he felt gracious enough to retrieve you. That was the plan, to terrify you just enough that you wouldn’t be able to think of going against him and then drag you back to the rocks you’d been sitting on earlier. There, he could keep an eye on you until the mate mark took, all the while thinking about what he could do with you to soothe his rage if it didn’t. If there was any other way he could use you to escape this damn prison. 

And then you’d gone and exceeded his exceptions, not only making it to the edge of the lagoon, but even dragging yourself onto the beach. That was fine though, he was a siren after all, there was no way you’d be able to resist his song from that distance, seal be damned. He’d bring you back and you’d quake in horror as you regained your senses and realized there was no escape, not really. 

You were not getting away from him.

Shin had felt it when his song caught you, and even if he hadn’t, it was obvious from the way your eyes glazed over and you mechanically got to your feet and started to walk towards him. His lips had curled into a wild grin as you’d taken those first few steps back into the water, so tantalizingly close to being back in his grasp. 

Then, suddenly, he’d felt the connection snap, like a thread stretched too thin. You’d halted, barely a couple of steps from the point where the seal kept him contained and he could have reached you, awareness flooding back to your features as a hand reached for the bite mark on your neck. 

The Mer King’s magic must have weakened his and allowed you to break free with little more than a jolt of pain. He’d cursed furiously as he’d watched you run off into the woods before breaking back out into song, pushing as much magic into it as he could. It hadn’t taken long to come to the conclusion that it was useless when you failed to reappear. 

He’d sunk back beneath the surface of the lagoon and punched and clawed at anything he could reach until his anger finally subsided and he succumbed to the exhaustion that came with pushing his magic too far—a sure sign that if he couldn’t complete the bond with you and escape the lagoon soon then it would be the end of him. The end of the entire siren race. Shin drifted into unconsciousness with the taste of you lingering on his tongue and a single thread of thought that he couldn’t afford for this to fail.

The nights immediately following Shin’s encounter with you had been some of the worst of his life—worse even than those hours spent in desperate song with his brother. Each night he woke under the starlight sky, he would reach out with his power, trying to find a single thread of connection signalling the mate mark had taken. And every time, he would find nothing, the only magic brushing against his senses being that of the Mer King’s barrier, and Shin was left with only his rage. Rage at the Mer King for imprisoning him, rage at himself for being so powerless—and most of all—rage at you for slipping out of his clutches.

He hadn’t been able to understand it. Even as diminished as his power might be, something as primal as mating magic should still be more than potent enough to do its work. If you were another siren then perhaps you might be able to throw off its influence, but you were only a weak, fragile human, there’s no way you would be able to put up any real fight against it.

Were you dead then? Had he truly spent so long isolated that he’d forgotten just how much you could toy with prey before something gave? Or were you just a particularly feeble specimen?

You certainly hadn’t seemed quite that frail when you’d managed to give him the slip.

There was little life left in the lagoon that Shin could tear apart with his claws to take out his frustration, so he’d settled for thinking about what he’d do to you for causing him so much trouble. Mate mark or no, Shin was very sure that if he managed to get hold of you a second time, you wouldn’t be walking away from him.

He’d almost given up hope by the time he finally felt the magic take—a hot twisting sensation in his gut while he’d been drifting in the cool dark waters of the lagoon, magic flaring brightly as it began the process of binding your life to his.

Shin couldn’t help exclaiming into the otherwise still night air as the burn of the magic had started to fade, so close to finally achieving his freedom. But there was still an emptiness to the bond, something that needed to be filled before he could claw his way free. It ultimately didn’t matter though, as frustrating as it might be for the moment, you couldn’t escape him any longer— a half-bond was all he needed to reel you in and finish the job.

Which is exactly what he set about doing—a summoning song in the oldest of all siren tongues. 

Come to me, come to me, come to me. 

It had been something of a surprise when the cord of song bringing you to him had snapped. Another effect of the barrier surrounding the lagoon perhaps? Or maybe the mate mark had yet to fully settle into your skin, your humanity slowing the process. Regardless, he could still feel the whisper of the bond—a lifeline—and he clung to it with all his might. He had you now and one way or another, you’d inevitably be drawn to him.

Shin could tell that each new night his song brought you a little closer, magic making short work of any obstacles keeping you from him. Soon, very soon, you’d be brought right back into his arms and his goal would finally be realized. He hadn’t quite worked out how to get you to complete the bond yet. Compelling you wouldn’t work, you had to make the mark of your own free will for it to be binding.

It should irk him, the idea of allowing a human to mark him, even in such dire circumstances, but there was a primal part of him that hungered for it, for the feel of your teeth on his skin, claiming him as he’d claimed you.

It was revolting. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

While his thoughts had been full of you ever since he’d awakened to the taste of your blood, it was different now, since the bond had taken. Before, they were accompanied by anger, a part of him wanting you to show up at the lagoon again just so he could teach you a lesson for making a fool of him. And although those thoughts were still there, they were twisted by a yearning that had come to infest every part of him. He longed to feel the softness of your skin as he traced his claws across your throat, down your chest. To get his mouth on you once more.

The fact you were currently roaming around freely, where any old human male could lay their hands on you, was driving him mad. Hell, for all he knew, the reason why you were taking so long to reach him was because you had some human lover sequestered away in your home, holding you back when the magic started to draw you to him. Shin hadn’t smelt anyone else on you when you’d been swimming in the lagoon, but if there really was someone who thought they had some sort of claim over you, then tearing them apart was the first thing he planned to do once he got a pair of human legs. He’d make you watch too, to show you what would happen if you ever had eyes for anyone else.

Shin wasn’t entirely unused to envy, but to feel it like this was new. Your bond was having more of an effect on him than he could ever have considered. 

In abstract, he’d known it could—mating magic was primal, unstable, you could never quite count on just how strong the bond would be. He’d been arrogant, had thought that as a weak human you’d be the one to suffer the worst of it, left to pine over him while he was free to use you as he pleased. It was already clear that wouldn’t be the case and you weren’t even properly his mate yet. But it was too late to go back now, not when the only other alternative was dying a miserable death in this lagoon.

Shin wanted to be angry you’d done this to him. He should have spent the past several nights trying to work out how to be rid of you once he’d made it past the seal rather burning with rage at the thought of you with someone else—someone who probably didn’t even exist. It couldn’t be helped though, not when every instinct he possessed told him to latch onto you and never let go. You belonged to him and no one else. Always.

Oh he still intended to have you pay for making him wait so long, but his fantasies of cutting you open with his claws had been replaced by those of pinning you down and finding other ways to make you cry out.

There were a lot of things Shin planned to do to you once he was free.

The moon had risen high while he’d been lost in his thoughts, his power growing to its peak, still great and terrible, diminished as it was.

Shin wet his lips as he prepared to call for you once again, hoping that tonight was the night you were finally delivered to him. He opened his mouth and the first few notes of his song drifted out into the cold night air.

Elsewhere, you rose from your bed and began your mindless march towards the lagoon, lost in dreams of siren song.

#Diabolik Lovers #shin tsukinami #Shin Tsukinami x reader #my writing #one shot #Siren AU #Siren!Shin

[2-cute-4-school]

𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴/𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦

requested by the national cutie pie @heartyyjeno​

Mark Lee

he can be a bit oblivious sometimes bless his soul꒰๑˃͈꒵˂͈๑꒱୭

so he’s kinda clueless as why tf you’re so pouty 

has he said anything stupid earlier? forgotten any important date?? or... even worse

ARE YOU ON YOUR PERIOD?? (ｼ;ﾟДﾟ)ｼ  ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵖᵉʳᶦᵒᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ᵐʸ ᵐᶦⁿᵈ ˢᵒʳʳʸ

he’s too nervous to even prod at you rn

especially after a trainee who just happens to be wearing his hoodie passes by and you-

did you just growl?!?? ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

but you’re his baby and you’re just SO deflated and he HATES seeing you anything but happy and lively so he just can’t stand by and watch you so upset cuz his lil heart hurts too (๑◕︵◕๑)

“babe, are you uh alright?”

“yeah, just a little bit cold” *trying to subtly hint him*

“oh! that’s not good, you should have dressed warmer, should i go ask manager-hyung to turn up the heating in the practice room??”

 ‘maybe i should just set your ass on fire to warm up’ (►˛◄’!)

“or do you maybe want my hoodie?? it should be enough so you won’t be cold anymore, where did i... ohhhhh”

*light bulb turning on above his head* (〇o〇；)

“it’s fine mark, it’s not like you love me anyway it’s fine i should have seen this coming” *loud fake sobbing in your hands* *mark panic*

“no no baby come on-”

“let’s just get the divorce papers, mark lee!!!!”

“but we’re not married-” *sobbing intensifies* “i’m sorry, I’M SORRY!!! i didn’t mean to!! here, just a second!!” (´⊙ω⊙`)！

this specimen just took off his shirt and draped it over you in the middle of the practice room

“mark, wtf are you doing?!?? i was only kidding!!”

“how was i supposed to know, what if you were seriously upset-”

“hyung, can you help-”  *chenle slams door closed* *dolphin screams* “you’re paying for my eyeball removal surgery, you nasties!!”

“chenle NO”

Huang Renjun

my man here catches on pretty quickly what your pout is about

you didn’t make it exactly hard to notice either (；¬д¬)

“y/n, want some ice cream?”

“no, i’m cold, you can shove it up yo ass and share with dear [redacted]”

jesus i wonder why your s/o is mad renjun

he’s not sure how to approach the situation at first, worried that he might get a tube of ice shoved somewhere he wouldn’t want it to ゞ◎Д◎ヾ

he decides to just be himself read as blunt

“baby come oooon, i can ask them to give it back”

“no, then i’ll seem like a possessive bitch” (Θ︹Θ)ს

“don’t call yourself that!! but then should i just run back to the dorms and get another hoodie?”

“no, i missed you this week, i don’t want you to leave”

“then you can just come with me?” (≖^≖๑ )ﾌ

“but i’m too lazy to get up” same reader same

renjun : ఠ ͟ಠ then wth DO YOU WANT ?!!!?!!

your soul renjun

he’s a bit lost and you’re kinda under the weather too and he HATES it because you’re his kitten and he CAN’T and WON’T allow you to feel anyhting but like absolute royalty with him ೕ(⁍̴̀◊⁍̴́ฅ)

so he just drapes himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around you, caging you in a warm embrace and nuzzling his cheek into yours

“who needs a hoodie when they’ve got a junnie??!?!” (˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑)

how could anyone stay mad when a cutie like renjun just curls himself around you and pulls you flush against himself, wrapping his limbs around you and peppering kisses everywhere in reach

you’re basically purring in content at this how could you not 」(￣▽￣」)

depending on how tired the both of you are, you might qualify for a good ol’ nap cuddled up against renjun 

but don’t let this fool you

you AIN’T gona catch him making the same mistake again

he’s asking you first about absolutely anything

“no renjun, i don’t need the last of your toilet paper, why do you even- you know what, don’t answer that, just go take a shit in peace” Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

Lee Jeno

we all know jeno is too much of a sweetheart to say ‘no’ (๑′ᴗ‵๑)

he might be freezing himself and he’d still give his hoodie away to the first person who asks learn how to say NO kids

so now you’re both freezing and on top of everything you’re upset too

that’s a DOUBLE KILL for sweet babie jeno (๑◕︵◕๑)

“babe i’m sorry how was i supposed to know you don’t like them??”

“it’s not even that, jeno, you’re literally shivering!! why would you give it if you’re cold too?”

and that’s when jeno’s bf sathelit sprung into action

“wait... ‘too’?? are you cold, my baby??!??!?” (ʘᗩʘ’)

“no, wait, i mean yes, but that’s not-”

“i’ll be back in a second” he isn’t even kidding

he comes back with a blanket AND heating pads (that he doesn’t miss a second to clutch to your cheeks and then coo at your fish face)

“where did you get these from?” *suspicious*

he tells you he borrowed stole them from hyuck by politely asking for them threatening with a flex of his arm while eye smiling the entire time hyuck stood no chance ( ⚆ ᴗ ⚆ ) *nervous chuckle*

but jeno allows you no debating time before he wraps you in the blanket like a lil cutie patootie WARM burrito and leaves a *smooch* to your forehead ( ˘ ³˘)♥

you can spend an eternity arguing with him that you should take turns since he’s cold too, he isn’t taking ANY OF IT

his bubs isn’t allowed to be cold and he wants you to forget about who he lent his hoodie to too

the only way you can get him to relent is refusing to stay cocooned in it

“y/n, wear it or you’ll catch a cold!!” ( •̀ω•́ )σ

“sorry to burst your bubble, but you can and will catch a cold too!!”

that’s how you found yourself sandwiched between jeno’s arms, suffocating from both his bodt warmth and the blanket enveloping THE BOTH of you

best sauna would 110% recommend ୧( ⁼̴̶̤̀ω⁼̴̶̤́ )૭

Lee Donghyuck

my man here knows EXACTLY what he’s doing once *that person* asks him for his hoodie with a flirty smile

he lends it over with that shit eating grin but not without watching from the corner of his eye as you deflated like a loney baloney ( ◞᷄દ◟᷅ )

pretends to not notice your pout and lack of answers to his remarks

“y/n, wanna order chinese tonight?”

sweet, but not on my watch asshole *silence* (˵¯͒⌢͗¯͒˵)

“i’ll take that as a yes, i’ve been craving some seaweed soup”

*eye twitch*

‘fine u lil booger two can play at this game’ (•̀o•́)ง

you leave the room and return... wrapped up in MARK’S sweater and plop down back next to hyuck proudly (ฅ⁍̴̀◊⁍̴́)

he tenses up and turns to you

“y/n” ooooh damn you’re in deep shit

*you bat your eyelashes innocently* “yes my dear?”

“you stink, can you move further away?”

you... did not... JUST HEAR THAT??!?!!? (ﾉꐦ ⊙曲ఠ)ﾉ彡┻━┻

but you get up and walk with your tail between your legs to the other side of the room and curl up in a ball of failure

you both do your own things insilence until-

*sniffle* *hiccup* *SNIFFLE*

“y/n?” *silence*”baby??” *hiccup*

oh no oh no NO NO, hyuck’s baby ain’t crying on his watch (╯’□’)╯

he DASHES to your side and envelops you in his arms while cooing apologies and sweet nothings in your ear

“come on baby, you know i didn’t mean it, i just want your attention and your attention only and i only meant that mark’s hoodie stinks, never you, you’re my baby, you can’t-” ヾ( •́д•̀ ;)ﾉ

and then your shoulders start shaking and hyuck starts to actually worry until your sobs turn into... giggles?? hold up, WHAT??

he turns you around just to see you in a fit of giggles, the only tears present are the ones building up in your eyes from laughter

“oh you think you’re smart, don’t you??” (⁎⁍̴̀﹃ ⁍̴́⁎)♡

ATTACC OF TICKLES FOR YOU

Na Jaemin

another sweetheart tbh who wouldnt be able to refuse out of courtesy

but he just KNOWS he fcked up the moment you turn away when he leans in to kiss you (︶︹︺) ╯ ( ് દ ് )

but he ain’t giving up so easily

no matter how upset you are, depriving him of his dose of kisses? federal crime!!!! CRUELTY!!!!!!! ╰[ ಠ Ĺ̯ಠ]╯

so he keeps on pushing his affections on you

a clutching back hug, a rushed kiss wherever he is able to land it considering your struggle to avoid him, a nuzzle against your cheek, a pinch to your cheeks, a failed attempt to lockyour hands together

my man here tries not to show disappointment whenever you succesfully escape his ♡ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 ♡   

jaemin, grumbling: “you and jisungie, a couple of hooligans, i’ll leave you on the welcome mat tonight for this” (҂⌣̀_⌣́) he won’t he loves you too much, he can’t fall asleep if he’s not 110% sure you’re well fed and happy

but he still babies you to no end

“come on my baby, what should i do so you forgive me hm?”( *¯ ³¯*)♡

you, an entire baby: *huff* “so now you care huh? go ask or no, go TAKE CARE of [redacted]” 

jaemin’s last braincell performing swan lake on thin ice male version 2020 be like ₍₍ ◝( ･’ω’･ )◟ ⁾⁾

so he sighs and leaves the room

so NOW you’re worrying that mayyyybe you pushed him a bit too far

but before you even get the chance to walk down the hallway in your mighty search for your boyfriend, everything suddenly goes black

no you didn’t pass out or did you

jaemin just creeped up on you and ENGULFED you in a blanket hug for which he DEFINITELY didn’t run a marathon to buy༼つ ் ▽ ் ༽つ

when you finally manage to worm your head out of the fluffy cocoon he engulfed you in, your words were still muffled

“nana?? how did you even-???”

he just hugs you tighter and cuts off your questions

“shhh, all that matters is that you are ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE and i am maybe perhaps forgiven??”  ◕ ‿ ◕ 

how could you ever refuse this precious soul

Zhong Chenle

so i can see one(1) scenario in which he would lend his hoodie to someone he SPECIFICALLY knows you don’t fancy

if you had a let’s say disagreement before and we all know he can be PETTY big time sooo basically he’d do it just to spite you ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

and the lil shiz looks SO PROUD of himself

but you’re not letting the brat win we ain’t no losers _へ__(‾◡◝ )>

so you just creep up behind him and stick your glacier hands up his shirt and rest them on his warm back

when i’m telling you he broke the record for the highest jump and most likely shattered any windows in the vicinity ༻(〃ຶ⌂〃ຶ)

“y/n!!!! keep your ice cubes to yourself!!”

“but i’m cold”

“your cold, your problem”

“watch me say the same thing when jaemin’s chasing you around with a wooden ruler” （；¬＿¬)

things settle down after that

or so he thought!!!!! (งಠل͜ಠ)ง never let your guard down lele sigh

another sneak attack to make sure chenle gets a SOUR taste of absolutely pure pettiness so he gets sick of it himself lol

this time a bitch ain’t joking

you shove your entire head under his shirt and then slither yourself so the top of your head pops out of chenle’s shirt collar let’s hope chenle made the wise choice of wearing a loose shirt so you both won’t suffocate

so you just blink up at him like (◕ᴥ◕)

and chenle is shrieking the entire time sigh

and while you’re too cute for him, its not exactly comfortable for either of you so he pats your head and begs asks you to get out of his shirt(?)

“am i getting your hoodie then?”

“i can’t just barge in and ask for it back”

“alright them i’m suffocating you FUN” (╯✧∇✧)╯

“i’m buying you an entire store of hoodies, JUST GET.OUT!!!”(;≧皿≦）

you have to restrain him for actually going on a shopping spree cuz he LOVES spoiling you but he pays in cuddles while you’re snuggling in your favourite hoodie of his

Park Jisung

confused babie /(@ﾟﾍﾟ@) a mood 

he probably lent his hoodie cause he was too shy to refuse and didn’t even know you don’t like the person he gave it to

and then he’s clueless when you’re pouty ｢(ﾟ<ﾟ)ﾞ??

jisung: “do you want some water??”

you: *grumbling visibly upset* ( ｰ̀εｰ́ )

jisung, at a safe distance away from you, scratching his head, rethinking life choices: “...okay, maybe not. how about choco milk?”

he keeps an eye on you but other than that he’s LOST lol

that’s when the ✨𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓼✨ kick in

emergency contact momma jaemin is the first person jisung calls once he escaped to the ‘bathroom’

“jisung, you know i love you, BUT ARE YOU DUMB?? HOW COULD YOU- blahblahblah” my man is listening to an entire rant about how to treat your partner well 101 (۶* ‘ꆚ’)۶”

now that he knows the theory, he needs the practice

but you might already worry that he fell in the toilet with how long he’s been gone for god forbid you fall into that dark void

so he calls chenle

“chenle, i’m treating you to hotpot if you bring me a blanket or hoodie in less than 5 minutes”

“add in some steak and it’s a deal” ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)

“i’m so selling your soul for a piece of gum, FINE!! just be quick!!”

THIS BOI RIGHT HERE!! A TREASURE!!!! he would step on his honour just to make sure his bubs is hapyy ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰

so after he excuses himself again to retrieve the blanket from chenle

he BURRITO WRAPS you in it and then sits down next to your confused but undeniably happy form and pats your head nervously while he rambles you’re still his most sought after for of comfort no matter what

“i’m sorry for being a bad boyfriend, i should have realized you’d be cold too and that i should always put you first and i-”

you cut him off with a chaste kiss to his cheek which definetely doesn’t leave him speechless and tomato red in the cheeks (๑♡⌓♡๑)

“it’s okay, i was just being dramatic, you should always put yourself first tho, okay baby??”

baby is malfunctioning but he still nods mindlessly and kisses your cheek back ( ᵅั ᴈ ᵅั;)

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #nct #nct dream #nct reactions #nct requests #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct fic #nct dream fic #nct x reader #nct mark #nct jaemin #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct jisung #nct haechan #nct chenle

[letarasstuff]

Girl meets World

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and is based on a show named 'Boy meets world', tho I never watched it so I went solely with the summary from said anon. I hope you still like it :)

Summary: Spencer's daughter is not ready for her first kiss. But are her classmates fine with that?

Warnings: Mean kids, angst but fluff at the end

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________

Being on the not so popular side in school is not particularly hard, but it doesn’t exactly make things easier for (Y/N). That’s why Spencer was happy to hear from her invitation to a classmate’s birthday party.

“You call me and I’ll get you. I don’t mind if it’s in ten minutes or in two hours. Whenever you feel uncomfortable or you are done with peopling, it’s fine wanting to leave. Ok?” Her father tells her, sitting with her in the car in front of the birthday girl’s house. “Understood. Thank you, Dad. I see you no later than ten. Love you!”

Off she goes. Spencer watches (Y/N) going up the path to the front door, a bright colored bag with a gift in her hand. He considers driving up to Penelope’s apartment, which is only five minutes away, and cries with her over his daughter growing up with a tub of ice cream in both their hands. A second later the father puts his plan into motion.

Meanwhile (Y/N) is inside with a bunch of people from different classes. All those kids already make her nervous. But she is determined to make it through the night. After all, the girl doesn’t want to be seen as a baby that gets overwhelmed by a room full of human beings.

At first it isn’t that bad. (Y/N) finds a few classmates she has a class or two with and they converse. Until someone screams “Let’s play Spin-The-Bottle”. Now the eleven year old kind of feels like she is on a movie or a show. What’s next, she has to kiss the boy she has a crush on since the beginning of the school year?

Still all of the children gather around in a circle and a bottle is placed in the middle. “The rules are simple”, a kid explains, “The bottle chooses two people. They get five minutes in that closet over there.” Right, just like she predicted. (Y/N) is hesitant. They are too young to do something like that. Once again she doesn’t want to be the party pooper, so she sits down between two classmates.

Every time the bottle spins a dread weighs down in her stomach. (Y/N) is only eleven years old. Is she even ready to have her first kiss in a closet? Shouldn’t it be out of love, willently without anybody forcing two random people to such an act?

Seems like the others think these rules are fair and square. Everybody is participating with the utmost joy. Maybe it’s just her, who grew up with romantic novels written by people who not even her Grandmother witnessed alive being read to her for bed night.

Deep into calculating the probability of the bottle pointing to her, it needs a few shouts and a nudge to get (Y/N) out of her head. “Looks like it’s your turn to go into the closet”, her neighbor says to her, gesturing to the bottle, which in fact points towards her. The girl swears that the color of her cheeks is even darker than a tomato.

Shyly she gets up to the wardrobe. The remaining girls nod encouragingly while the next person is chosen by the bottle. Luckily it’s not the boy she has a crush on, this would be like in a fanfiction, too much like a cliché.

Just a few seconds later she finds herself in the closet. Is it appropriate to make a joke about coming out of the closet?

“Well, here we are”, the other boy says. (Y/N) thinks his name is Tyler. “Yeah, I guess.” She shuffles her foot and scratches her neck. “So, shouldn’t we kiss or something?”

Geez, that boy is out for action. “Uhm, what about if we do not? I’m not ready for that and no offence but I want my first kiss with somebody special and you are just a boy from my grade and there are no feelings between us and I need that special moment, because I’m a hopeless romantic.” The girl says all of this in one breath, making her speech pace compete with her father’s.

But Tyler smiles. “It’s okay. I get it, really. I won’t tell anyone. We can just sit here and talk until they knock. How does that sound?” (Y/N) smiles and nods. They sit down on some boxes and just laugh quietly about anything and everything they tell each other.

As soon as they have to come out of the closet, the other kids bombard them with questions. Tyler shuts all of them with one answer up. “A lady and gentleman are quiet and enjoy themselves.”

The rest of the evening goes relatively uneventful. There is a nice buffet and after that the kids watch a couple of movies until the first parents show up to pick up their children. Spencer is relieved to see his daughter so energetic and happy after the party.

“And then we played spin the bottle like in a teen movie. Dinner was also really nice and I think I made one or two more friends. Isn’t it amazing, Dad?” He answers her enthusiastically that he is in fact very happy for her. And Spencer is. But it kind of also implies that she grows up, a fact he doesn’t like.

The party was on a Saturday night and now it’s Monday, the first day after it. (Y/N) is ecstatic to go. In her mind her classmates finally accepted her for who she is. But as soon as she enters the school yard the kids from her grade look weirdly at her.

Immediately the girl’s mind goes into panic. Has she something on her face? Is it the way she dresses? Or is it some- The kiss. Or technically the not kiss.

“Hey Reid, I heard you are unkissed. What about I show you in the janitor’s room? Do you also want rose petals and candles laying around?” Someone starts to taunt her. The bystanding classmates begin to laugh.

(Y/N) has to listen to similar comments for the rest of the school day. A few boys from her science class make kissing noises whenever the teacher isn’t near them. Tyler once catches her eyes, mouthing an apology. But it’s not relevant to her at this point. The only thing that counts right now is getting through the last class without breaking down in front of the others. She can’t show them any more weakness.

When his daughter comes home, Spencer is already there. Hotch gave them an early off, since the last few cases were draining for all of them.

Instead of greeting him with a smile and the definition of happiness she enters the apartment with the biggest frown the father has ever seen on her face. “Hey Dad”, (Y/N) flatly says before disappearing into her room.

Confused, he assumes that she just has to do a load of homework, so he lets the girl be for the next couple hours. But as the clock is pushing near dinner time, he begins to worry.

“Sweetheart, I thought about cooking pasta for tonight. Do you wanna help me try Uncle Dave’s new recipe?” He asks at her closed door, respecting her privacy. There is no answer, just a sniffle from the other side. This alarms Spencer. “Sweetheart, may I come in?”

A few seconds pass until a faint “Yes” makes its way to his ears. Inside (Y/N) sits on her bed, her eyes are red from crying. “Oh Sweetheart, don’t be upset. Whatever it is, we can fix it. Tell me, what’s wrong?” The young doctor tries to console her. It’s always more difficult to calm your own family down than any stranger he meets on a case.

“I-it’s stupid. I don’t know why I’m upset over this.” (Y/N) frantically wipes the leftover tears away. “Hey, don’t say that. Your feelings are valid. You can be upset about anything you want, ok? If you don’t want to tell me about it, it’s fine. But I promise you that I’ll value whatever you say.”

The girl nods, finding her composure. “I- At the party we played Spin-The-Bottle and whoever was chosen had to go into the closet with the second one and kiss. I-I was in there with a boy named Tyler, b-but I told him I wasn’t ready. H-he was really sweet about it and respected my reasons. Dad, I’m not old enough and it wouldn’t be anything like I imagined my first kiss would be. But now the whole school or what feels like the whole school makes fun of me a-and I was so embarrassed.”

Spencer can feel her pain. Kids can be worse than professional torturers, he witnessed both first hand. “Oh Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ll think of something about it. How do you feel about coming with me into the office? The others are missing you, especially Emily. She has a ton of pictures of Sergio she wants to show you. And for tonight we get your favorite take out and watch a movie of your choice, ok?”

(Y/N) smiles at the thought of the pictures she is going to see. “Yes! Can we get pizza and watch Lion King?” Even though it will be the fifth time they watch this movie this month, Spencer is happy to do anything his daughter wants. She has him wrapped around her finger.

So not long after this heartfelt conversation they sit on the sofa in the living room, crying their eyeballs out after Mufasa died. He deserved better.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x child!reader #x reader #reader insert #x child!reader #x daughter!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 20 - The Deep Dark Depths

Author’s Note: MERRY GLITCHMAS EVERYONE! I HAVE RETURNED WITH THE GIFT OF “GLITCHED” FOR YOU ALL!! :D

My god, it’s been 2 YEARS since I last posted a chapter and I deeply apologize for the LONG hiatus. I’ve had this chapter nearly done for that long but never finished it until recently. I didn’t - and don’t - have writer’s block, it’s just difficult to put my exact thoughts and vision down into words and make it come out sounding as good as I’m picturing in my head, you know? That and life just sometimes gets in the way of writing. So I haven’t given up on the fic, don’t worry! If I was done with it, I’d let you guys know, believe me.

I have no idea who still cares about this fic and if anyone will be interested in reading more of it, but you know, quite frankly I don’t care. Although it’s a challenge to write, I do thoroughly enjoy writing Glitched and will continue to do so until I finish it (or get tired of it, thought I HIGHLY doubt that’ll happen).

Now this chapter actually came out really long - longest chapter to date. It felt too long to be one chapter SO I split it into two separate parts. So I’ve chosen to give you guys Part 20 for your Christmas gift today, and then Part 21 I will hopefully be uploading on New Year’s Day (NOT Eve - gonna start the New Year off with Glitched). You guys have been waiting a long time; seems only right to give you guys two chapters a week apart.

Slight Warning: Of course I couldn’t come back without giving you guys a chapter involving a warning. Now granted, this isn’t a really gory chapter, this isn’t all blood and guts and torture so don’t worry about that. However, there is SOME bloodshed and some gross descriptions of a rotting corpse as well as an eyeball. Aside from that, the atmosphere of the chapter is filled with dread, suspense, and eerie tension. 

This chapter, as well as the next, are very important to the story and are peaking the climax. They answer some questions but also raise more questions.

Read this while listening to this playlist.

Hope you guys enjoy it! It’s good to be back :) 

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From the moment Jackieboy Man had decided to plunge himself into the open vastness of the void, shadows had curled around him and had enticed him into going further with each step he took. A deep-seated growth of harrowing proportions was enlarging at an exponential rate in the pit of his stomach the deeper he went. An unrelenting fear for the other egos. He hadn’t received any sort of response from any of them when he had called out to them and that never happened. When Jack had shown up fatally injured and bleeding out on the ground, everyone had raced to his side. When Chase had given an attempt at suicide, the firing of his gun had alarmed everyone so much that not a single ego hesitated to rush out to see what had happened. When Jackie had called out to them…there was nothing. All the hero received was a deafening silence just the same as the one he was currently engulfed in.  

  He marched onward and didn’t dare look back, keeping his eyes forward as he journeyed into the unknown. His thoughts were running astray, all focused on one individual: his creator. Jackie didn’t even know where to begin on the Irishman’s behavior back there before he had gone off to check on the doctor. Jack had looked and sounded like Jack, but the choice of words – the things he had said – didn’t seem at all right. To add as more evidence that something was off with the YouTuber, his eyes, his smile of reassurance – they had been completely void of any warmth and sincerity. His words may have slipped out sounding like he cared and meant what he said, but Jackie wasn’t blind, nor was he an oblivious fool. Those sea-blue eyes had been unnaturally dark, empty, cold. Orbs of otherworldly properties glazed over with false empathy. It had felt like he had been staring at a mask – someone else wearing not just a mask of his creator’s face but an entire bodysuit. 

His pace was gradually faltering, a biting shudder choosing then to straighten out his posture. He didn’t know if Jack was Jack or not, that was the truth. Whether the Irishman was himself or someone impersonating him, the fact remained that he wasn’t alright, he was off. Had he been affected by something or had he been replaced? And if he had been replaced, then by what? Nothing could get in and out of the void, nothing except for Jack himself – Jackie knew this. So if something had managed to get itself inside the void somehow, someway, how did it get by without Jack noticing? How was that possible?

  Jackieboy Man didn’t know for a fact that the man he had spoken with wasn’t Jack – he couldn’t prove it, not just yet, anyway. He did, however, know this: Something was being kept hidden from the superhero and he had a feeling he was going to find it somewhere, here, out in the open void.

  A brisk chill swept past him, finding its way into his suit and tugging at the hairs at the back of his neck. The air seemed to be growing colder the further he went. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. The masked hero slowed himself to a halt, taking the time to look at his surroundings, although there was really nothing to see. His torso twisted, his legs following the motion, turning around to get an idea of how far out into the void he’d gone. His vision was completely obscured by the dark, not a single thing in sight. Shimmering neon trees were no longer able to be seen, nor were the colorful circling portals to the respective homes of his brethren.  That couldn’t be right; he hadn’t gone that far – at least, that’s what it felt like to him. The luminescent branches of those trees should’ve been visible from where he was. Even if he had gone quite a ways out, there should’ve been light in the distance.

  There was no light, not a speck of it. This didn’t shock the ego as much as it had before. He knew deep in his gut something was wrong with the void, and this was only proving it. Like before, he had once again found himself swallowed whole by the discomforting shadows of the void. The only difference this time? He hadn’t heard or seen any –

  A sweet childish giggle came bubbling out from somewhere off in the cold vastness behind him. It carried an eerily similar charm like Ilsa’s voice.  

  Jackieboy Man’s body went rigid, spine straightening and shoulders broadening with the motion. A shuddering breath slid past his parted lips, visible to the eye due to the drop in temperature. Eyes were fixed forward, unblinking, flashes of a little girl’s undead corpse flickering before him.

  It’s happening again. No sight of the crossroads…The feeling of being watched, He swallowed thickly, …Her giggle…

  His eyes darted to the left, he licked his lips, and hesitantly, he turned around – head moving first, then his body. Heart skipping a painful beat, he saw what he had feared to see yet again in the distance up ahead. It may have been darker than dark but he could see her, he could make out the small pale body of the good doctor’s youngest daughter, Ilsa. From where he stood, he could make out her messy hair, blotchy discolored skin, and the maroon-red stains in her dress. Her smile was abnormally wide, stretched bloody from ear to ear due to the corners of her mouth having been cut open. Jackie released another uneven breath at seeing her stand there, hands behind her back and looking as innocent as ever – well, as much as she could with her body decomposing anyway.

  “Ilsa…” Her name came out rather hushed and not like a question. He wasn’t questioning it this time; he had hoped she would show up again. He had known he had in fact seen Ilsa before and now here she was yet again, come to see him in this uncharted area of the void.

  The four-year-old girl didn’t move, merely bounced on the balls of her feet and giggled happily at the hero’s reaction to her being there. “Hiii!” It was dragged out in that cute way young kids would normally do when shy and meeting someone new.

  Jackie felt the corner of his lips twitch with the urge to smile at hearing her cheery voice. “Hi.” He didn’t smile though – how could he when he was seeing her with a mutilated face, undead? He sighed softly and deeply, an attempt to steady his nerves, before he licked his lips and asked, “What are – ”

  “You came back!” Ilsa chirped. “You weren’t supposed to leave, silly.” She tittered, rocking back and forth where she stood staring at the man in red. “We were going to pway!” Her hands clapped together out of excitement.

  “No.” Jackie almost immediately shook his head at her words. “No, Ilsa, we’re not going to play. I’m not here to play. I don’t have time – I need to – ”

  Wait. He cut himself short, eyes falling to the dark watery floor. Why are you talking to her? She’s not real, she can’t be. His brow furrowed with puzzlement at this, not entirely convinced. You know no one other than you and the others can come out here in the open, you KNOW that. Jack himself had explained this all to you in explicit detail.

  That was true – Jack had in fact explained to each of them how the void worked and how anyone and everyone in their respective worlds could not interact with those of another world. They didn’t know they weren’t real, they didn’t know they were all more or less simulations made for the egos and to keep them content. Some people shared the same face; the egos weren’t the only ones. While the egos were clones of Jack, certain individuals were clones of people in Jack’s own life. It made sense why, given how the void was shaped by his thoughts and feelings. It was no different than having dreams of people you swore you didn’t recognize, only to read about how those people were probably random strangers your brain decided to remember seeing from earlier that week. 

Dr. Schneeplestein and Chase Brody’s wives, for example, both wore the exact same face as Jack’s in real life girlfriend, Signe. Sure, just like the egos, they had different hairstyles and personalities, but the fact remained they bore the resemblance of someone important in Jack’s life. If they were able to wander out and run into each other, who would be able to explain to them how and why they looked the same without causing them to freak out? Chaos would break out and it would be a hell of a hassle to reset everything, thus why Jack created borders that none of them, except for the egos, could pass through.

  And yet, no more than thirty feet away, decaying on the spot, stood one of the doctor’s daughters.

  Look at her. He lifted his gaze from the floor back to the living corpse that was Ilsa Schneeplestein. How could she be out here? Or more importantly, how could she look like that and be alive?

  Ilsa lowered her hands, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. She blinked, tilting her head a bit out of confusion, not understanding why the hero had suddenly stopped talking. “Mr. Jackieboy?”

  If something bad had happened to her or anyone else, you would’ve been able to sense it. His face was scrunched up with perplexity as his thoughts tried to rationalize everything. She’s not dead, she’s safe at home with her family...So how is it you’re seeing her out here, in the open, mouth split apart and body rotting away?

  He noticed Ilsa drop her hands at her sides, her smile slipping. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her gentle voice laced over with what sounded like concern.

  Jackieboy Man stared at her for a prolonged minute, torn between believing what his eyes were seeing versus what his conscience was insistent upon. The low buzzing of flies could be heard coming from where Ilsa was as the air grew heavy and fetid with the stench of putrefaction. The hero’s stomach rolled and he retched, instantly doubling over and slapping a hand over his mouth to hold in the sick threatening to escape. He shut his eyes for a brief second, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat and attempting to not pay any attention to the rancid smell accumulating around him.

  “Don’t you want to pway with me?”

  An eye pried open to take a look at the bloodied girl. There was a hint of hurt in her voice, proven further by how she was no longer smiling bright. She instead was pouting, some sort of fluid beginning to leak out of her mouth. Repulsion contorted the ego’s face, both eyes locked onto her now as he came to agreement with what his conscience was telling him. He shook his head slowly, muttering, “You’re not real.”

  Ilsa appeared taken aback by that, her brows furrowing together and pout becoming more prominent. “What?” There was a crack in her voice, which admittedly caused the hero’s heart to clench tight. “Why – Why would you say that?” She gave a light giggle and extended her arms to either side. “I’m wight here!”

  The green-haired man shook his head once more before lowering it, not wanting to look at the apparition of his friend’s daughter anymore. She’s not real…She’s not real. “No you’re not.” He said firmly. “You’re not real.” He was shaking his head again, murmuring, “She’s not real.”

  “W-Why do you keep saying that?” Another audible crack in her voice, accompanied with a faint sniffling.

  Jackie winced at the realization that she was starting to cry – he was making a little girl cry. No, no, he was not making a little girl cry. This wasn’t a little girl, this was something else entirely. This thing wasn’t real, it didn’t have real emotions, he knew that. He shut his eyes, attempting to focus on something, anything, other than the gradually wavering sobs emanating from Schneeplestein’s daughter.

  “She’s not real. She’s not real. You know she’s not real.” He repeated under his breath, hoping like hell she would eventually go away if he ignored her presence being there.

  “Mr. J-Jackieboy?” Ilsa whined, a louder gross sniff of her nose echoing through the dark.

  The ego’s eyes screwed tightly shut at hearing this, gasping softly at being able to feel her pain. It was proving to be a difficult challenge for Jackieboy Man to block out the cries of the undead child. He may have convinced himself that the girl before him wasn’t really Ilsa Schneeplestein, but the superhero in him – the part that believed he was solely responsible for everyone in the void, the part that was hell-bent on making sure that everyone was safe – wasn’t having it. Every fiber in his being was screaming to run to the girl, scoop her up in his strong arms, and reassure her everything would be okay.

  “She’s not real…She’s not real.”

  “Stop!” She cried out pleadingly. “Stop saying that!”

  “She’s not real.” He gritted between his teeth, just barely hanging on. Hearing a four-year-old reduced to tears and begging for him to stop insisting she wasn’t real was relentlessly torturing his heart and making him question his morals.

  “W-What did I do wrong?” She hiccupped over her sobs, sniffling noisily. “Why – Why don’t you w-want to pway with me?”

  “Stop it.” The words were wrenched from him as a weak, strained whimper. It was his turn to be the one to implore her for mercy. “Just stop.” Jackie shook his head. “You’re not real.” It came out gruff and assertive, rather harsh. If he had had his eyes open, he had a feeling he would’ve seen Ilsa jump in alarm.

  “Mr. Jackieboy!” He heard her whine upsettingly at a higher pitch than before, desperately wanting her hero to stop and pay attention to her.

  “D-Do you hate me?” The child sobbed. “Do – Do you not l-like me anymore?”

  “SHUT UP!” The words nearly shattered his vocal cords. “YOU’RE NOT REAL!” There was a nasty bite to it as he screamed; a snarl of anger let loose to channel the hero’s frustration and turmoil.

  He huffed and puffed, his nerves fried and going to the point he was subtly trembling from head to toe. He didn’t move, nor did he dare open his eyes just yet. He wasn’t ready to see whether or not the living corpse of the good doctor’s daughter still remained standing. He listened closely, expecting to hear the cries continue on and drive him to insanity.

  Ilsa’s sobs had stuttered, softened, and ceased almost immediately after the hero’s screams. No more wet sniffling. No hiccups. No whines or whimpers or pleas. The distressed sounds of a child were no longer audible, only a haunting ear-ringing silence left to permeate the space around the green-haired ego. And through this silence, and over his unsteady panting, Jackie could make out the faintest deep breathing. Breaths plagued with a raspy wheeze and sickening gurgle as though the girl was choking on her own saliva.

  “You were too late.”

  A cool breeze whisked through the fabric of Jackieboy Man’s suit, chills prickling up his spine as he heard the change in the little girl’s voice. That hadn’t sounded like the Ilsa he knew. Her once sweet and angelic voice had fallen cold and monotone. Unfeeling. Dead. The words had slipped out eerily calm and unvarnished, voice absent of a tremor of heartache. Nothing gave away that the girl had been a crying, emotional mess a moment ago. His brow furrowed at not just hearing Ilsa speak but at what she had said. She had just suddenly decided to change the subject on a whim, not bothering to continue asking the ego about playing with her. To Jackie, everything felt as though it had been one big act, and seeing as how he hadn’t cooperated the way she had wanted, the act was dropped and disposed of. Releasing a shuddering breath, he pried his eyes open.

  The man flinched and gasped softly in alarm at seeing the undead child standing before him. Her eyes were just as foggy and glazed over as he had remembered. She looked so much worse than the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was a mess of ratty tangled tendrils framing her now slightly pudgy face, which was littered with popped blisters and small blotches of blue and purple. Much larger patches of muddy maroon and indigo were swelling up in parts of her body that Jackie could see, bloating up with her liquefied insides. Her stomach had to have had a huge patch because there was an exceedingly great stain soaked with blood on the front of her dress. A thin sheen slicked her loose and soft flesh, causing the corners of her butchered smile to sag a tad bit. Discoloration had taken a massive toll on her skin; no longer white as a ghost, more so an abundance of plasma-yellow, bruise-purple, and ash-grey. Flies were swarming around her, quite a few having landed and now crawling upon her person. The fluid Jackie had seen leaking out of her mouth was now seen clearly as foamy blood oozing out from not just her mouth but her nose as well.

  Jackieboy Man hacked and coughed at the putrescent odor emitting from Ilsa’s body, lifting an arm to block his nose and repressing the urge to vomit. His stomach recoiled in disgust at spotting a few small maggots squirming out through the exposed muscle of the girl’s Glasgow smile. Ilsa stared up at the hero unblinking as her head slowly tilted to the right with a cringe-worthy cracking.

  “You were too late, Mr. Jackieboy.” She repeated in the same stony tone. The words were delivered like she was trying to drive home a point.

  Jackie’s expression contorted into a hybrid of question and fear. Too late? Too late for what? His heart stuttered apprehensively at the reminder of Jack going off to check on Dr. Schneeplestein. He had wanted to check on the doctor himself, given how he had had a feeling something bad was going to happen to him, and yet he had allowed Jack to go in his place. He had chosen to risk storming off into the unmarked areas of the void to search for answers versus going in to protect a close friend. What if…

  The red-suited hero hesitantly lowered his arm from his face, lips trembling in an effort to speak. A faint breath slid past them.

  “What…” He shallowed thickly and dared to ask in a hushed whisper, “W-What do you mean?”

  Ilsa stood there, unmoving and continuing to stare at him sinisterly. She was regarding his question carefully, as well as the way he had queried it. Then, unnervingly slow, she righted her head up and began to smile. The corners of her malformed face sluggishly stretched, chapped lips pulling back to bear teeth. An eerily cheerful giggle of amusement bubbled out of her, pushing thick ribbons of blood out of her mouth. She didn’t answer his question. Before Jackieboy Man had the chance to speak, the girl spun on her heel and ran off into the darkness, laughing playfully.

  “Hey! Wait!” Jackie extended a hand outward before he found himself darting after her. “Wait! Ilsa! Where are you going?!”

  She didn’t stop for him, nor did she look back or stop her giggling. For a dead little girl, she was surprisingly fast. The shadows were drawing her deeper into the dark to the point the hero could barely even see her. The pitter-patter of her feet hitting the wet ground was growing softer the further she went; light splashes of water getting mixed with the fluids seeping out from the orifices of her body. Jackie sprinted, squinting a bit and trying to not lose sight of her.

  “Ilsa! Slow down!” He called out. “STOP!”

  He himself skidded to a stop upon a now white-tiled floor. Everything before him was white.

  For a fleeting moment, he had to squint given the unexpected brightness. The never-ending void he had been engulfed in a second ago had inexplicably become a long hallway bathed in blinding white from floor to ceiling. Glossed tiles made up the ground beneath his feet, T-bar fluorescent lights illuminating the entirety of the hall. Doors appearing to be heavy duty steel lined the walls, each one about fifteen to twenty feet apart. Ilsa was nowhere in sight.

  Jackieboy Man’s face scrunched up in equal parts alarm and confusion, eyes darting around the place out of bewilderment.

  “What?” He breathed, turning around to see if maybe there would be something to explain what had happened and where he was. He was only met with a wall.

  The hero blinked with question, lifting both of his hands to touch the surface, testing to see if it was real. His gloved palms were met with a hard surface – it was solid polished concrete. He spun back around to face the lengthy hallway, utterly perplexed by what was going on. What had just happened? Where was he? How did he suddenly end up in some long pure-white hallway? And how did he manage to lose Ilsa in the process?

  Sucking in a breath, he advanced forward, reminding himself why he had come this far to begin with. Something was wrong with the void and he was determined to unveil the truth behind what was going on. He’d never been out in the open uncharted space of the void before, nor had he ever come upon a place like the one he was currently walking through. Jack had never mentioned a long white hallway before.

  What is this place? He thought, glancing around mystified as he went on.

  “Ilsa?” He tried, eyeing down the pristine corridor for the deceased child.

  He didn’t see or hear anyone. Slowly, with careful steps, he progressed further, taking curious looks at each door on either side of him.

  “Ilsa? Can you hear me?” He tried again. “Where are you?” He didn’t want to see her again, but truthfully, the fact she had vanished in the blink of an eye and left him now in a deafeningly silent hall all alone was making him feel a lot more uncomfortable and alert than before.

  His whole body had grown tense the moment he had entered this unknown environment and it still was. A suffocating wave of dread was slowly but surely drowning him no matter how hard he was trying to disregard it. Every inch of his being was cautioning him about his surroundings, as though he was half-expecting someone or something to come out of any one of the doors to jump him. He needed to be ready for anything. Even if no one was there, he still had Jack – or possibly the entity posing as him – to worry about. He had limited time on his hands, about an hour or less to find what he wanted and get out of there.

  His eyes skimmed over along the handle of a nearby door, looking it over with thought. He took a glance down the hall at the other doors, wondering what could possibly be behind any one of them. He noticed how up ahead, the corridor curved to the right, meaning there was more to this place. The hero huffed softly, turning back to the door he was currently in front of. He went to turn the handle.

  A girlish giggle echoed off of the walls and startled him. Jackie straightened, eyes darting to the end of the hall from which the unannounced giggle came from. He was surprised to see little Ilsa standing there, holding her hands down near her hips and beaming with joy.

  “Ilsa?” Jackie called out, taking his hand away from the door handle. One step forward triggered the decaying girl to laugh and run out of sight around the corner. “Ilsa, wait!”

  The hero took off after her, charging down the long corridor and making a sharp turn when he came to the end. He found himself going down yet another completely white hallway, only with far less doors than the one before. Up ahead he spotted Ilsa outside of a door, looking at him with that gross unpleasant smile again. A not-so-sweet chortle was the last thing to come from her as she opened the door and ran inside. Jackie quickly bolted for the door before it could slide shut, grasping it and pulling it wide open. Perplexity contorted the green-haired ego’s face when he was met with darkness. Ilsa had vanished without a trance unexplainably. Jackie would’ve groaned in frustration if it hadn’t been for what struck his attention about the room.

  The walls and floor were sleek and black, the difference between the two seamless and giving the illusion of a deep continuous cavern. It was awfully dark; there was limited lighting, most of which was coming from more than several screens flickering in midair near the far left of the room. Brow furrowing with question, Jackie silently crept inside, hand sliding off of the door gently to make sure it’d remain cracked open. First casting a glance around the room, the hero’s eyes shot back to the hovering screens as he approached. Some were small, some were large, each one scattered about and overlapping others. At least half of them were corrupted by grain and static, white noise bouncing off of the walls of the darkened lair. The first few up front, however, while constantly glitching out, were displaying visible images. The hero neared them, momentarily noticing how there wasn’t a desk with technical equipment beneath these screens. No keyboards, no mouse, nothing. When he got closer, it was apparent then that the screens weren’t even monitors fixated on a wall; they were literally one with the air, made up of pixels and code.

  Jackieboy Man lifted a hand and hesitantly moved to gently tap the closest screen. A light array of glitches broke out, startling the ego and causing him to retract his finger. He tried to see through the grain continuously distorting the images on display, attempting to make out what was being shown. Movement could be seen – what looked like figures moving around, doing god-knows-what. Flickers of what kind of looked like the inside of a circus tent were projected on the screen right up front. The tops of city buildings could be seen in a small screen behind it in the upper right corner. An eerily dead neighbourhood street was getting eaten away by pixels on an equally small screen to the left. Another screen to the right looked like it was monitoring what appeared to be a hospital operating room, bloodied with a deceased patient on the table.  Jackie’s eyes flew across each screen, gradually widening as he came to recognize each image. He knew each place – he had been to each place. The realization caused his blood to run cold alarmingly fast.

  For a minute, he found he couldn’t take his attention away from the screens. His body was paralyzed, stiffened in place by the growing anxiety slowly but surely working to take a hold of him. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not noticed anything wrong with the void earlier? How long had this been going on for – how long had this intruder been keeping an eye on every one of them?  The hero in him was screaming at him to run off and find his brothers, overcome with this incessant need to get the fuck out of there and go and protect the egos from whatever the hell was pulling the strings here. And yet, he couldn’t get himself to leave – not yet. He had only scratched the surface. He needed an idea of who or what was behind this. He needed to know more. He needed more information, more answers.

  Clenching his hands up into fists to gather some strength, he forced himself to tear his gaze away, releasing a held-in breath as a result. Lifting his head, he examined the rest of the room. His eyes fell onto the wall across the other side of the room, exhibiting a selection of diverse tools. An oblong wooden table was below, only a few inches away from it. Jackie stepped towards it, eyes roaming the assorted devices presented on the wall. Kitchen knives of all sorts gleamed in the light provided by the dim lightbulb hanging above, illuminating their sharpened edges. Butcher knives, meat cleavers, serrated blades, daggers – they all decorated the wall, most stained and having been used before for God knows what. There were saw blades as well – a coping saw, a handsaw, a hacksaw, a bone saw. The ego gulped audibly, his heart rate gradually climbing at the very thought of what any one of these vicious implements could be used for.

 Tentatively, he finally dared to take a look at the items upon the table before him. There was a knife lined with both a rust-red substance and a thicker black one. Closer to the far edge of the table, an unpolished pocket watch was seen next to a small jar preserving something in some kind of transparent fluid. The masked man frowned, leaning down so as to get a better look at the jar’s contents. His face visibly paled, lips parting out of equal parts shock and revulsion. It was a severed tongue – a severed human tongue. His heart gave a worrisome pang in his chest, once again urging him to leave, but he steeled himself, morbid curiosity taking the reins.

  His gaze shifted to the left of the jar, scanning over a larger jar filled halfway with thick black fluid. It kind of looked similar to the substance that was on the nearby knife. Jackie’s expression contorted into one of perplexity and mild fascination, not having a clue as to what it could be. Raising a hand, he moved to lightly touch it, almost compelled to lift the jar up to get a closer look, only to instantly stop at seeing the inky fluid slither up the glass at the first touch he gave. He gasped softly and flung back, taken off-guard by the movement.

  This stuff was sentient? What even was it?

  The hero took a breather, steadying his nerves before he stepped forward, lifting his finger again. Uncertainly, he hovered it an inch away from the glass, waiting to see what would happen. A shaken breath was wrenched out of him as he watched the substance glide up along the glass towards where his fingertip was, snaking up in thin black trails and running patterns of a circuit board. He slowly moved his finger from one side to the other, testing to see if his thoughts were correct – if the ooze was interested in him. Sure enough, wherever his finger went, lines of black would follow. It was as though the stuff wanted to get out and make contact with the hero. It was like a parasite.

  “What…are you?” The words were whispered, the ego continuing to stare at the contained specimen with unease.

  Out of his peripheral vision, another jar was situated; the lid having been discarded off to the side. Jackie’s consideration for the jar he was currently preoccupied with almost immediately was abandoned, turning his head to look at the open jar. There was nothing in it except for thin globs of residue from whatever had been inside it. Excess clear gel was congealing in the far left and what looked like blood covered the entire bottom of the jar, which was beginning to lose its bright red shade. Translucent rivulets of red and black spattered the inside walls, mainly so on the side of the jar facing Jackieboy Man. In fact, the top of the jar was coated in a mixture of blood, murky gel, and inky goo. Spotting this, the green-haired man straightened, a gloved hand going to run a finger over the rim. He withdrew and brought his hand in close, rubbing the ooze between his fingers, noting just how viscous it was. He leaned in and took a whiff. Iron and a pungent sickly-sweet scent that knocked back Jackie’s senses. His brows weaved together out of question, looking at the substance with thought. He cast a glance over at the knife soaked in red and black, then to the jar of inky fluid, which had receded back down the moment Jackie had removed his finger.

  What the hell is all of this? The question prodded at his brain as he looked back to the empty jar.

  He disposed of what was on his fingers on his suit, looking from one thing on the table to the next. His roaming eyes came to an immediate halt once he saw what was at the end of the table. His eyes grew in size, the fist-sized organ in his chest stuttering painfully.

  “No…” He croaked, succumbing to the dread conjuring up scenarios in his head.

  His left hand had a mind of its own, already stretching outward to pick up the grey snapback. The signature pink skull on the front was adding fuel to what he was afraid of, as were the small specs of maroon across the side. But it wasn’t until he turned the hat over that his fears were confirmed. He nearly dropped the snapback at seeing a couple of loose strands of highlighter-green hair on the inside.

  Oh fuck…Oh god, no…Chase. His chest had tightened immensely to the point he could barely breathe. Why – Why is this here? Why, He did a once-over the entire desk, bewildered and on the verge of panicking, Why the hell is your hat here, Chase?

  But he did know. He knew why it was there, but he couldn’t accept the truth, he couldn’t accept the conclusion his mind had put together. One of the egos – one of his brothers…Something horrible must’ve happened to him…and he hadn’t known. He hadn’t known?! How could he have not felt something wrong?! His hands were shaking now, trembling from both the anger towards himself and the terror digging its claws into his heart. His fingers coiled around the hat as he glanced over to where the screens were, locking his sights onto the one displaying Chase’s neighbourhood.

  “Chase, what happened to you?” He looked back down at the hat, loosening his grip. “Who got to you?”

  His ears perked the second he heard and saw something glitch spastically into view in front of him. Pixels and lines of glitches zigzagged in the air, piecing together to create a paper-thin rectangular object that fluttered down onto the table. Jackieboy Man inched forward, setting Chase’s hat down where it’d been before in exchange for the new souvenir that had shown up. It was a postcard reading “WISH YOU WERE HERE” on the front. A light spatter of red decorated it, which caused the hero to recoil, putting it back down immediately.

  You need to get out of here.

  An icy draft blew through the room then, chilling the ego to the bone and striking up a metal creaking coming off to the left of where he stood. Jackie jolted, jerking his head in the direction from where the sound had come from. The other half of the room, he was now noticing, was different than the rest. From wall-to-wall, it became one big, secure, wire mesh cage used for storage. The door had been left unlocked, having creaked open a bit when the breeze hit. It was nearly as dark as the rest of the room, however. The masked man couldn’t really make anything out other than what he thought were probably fluorescent lights suspended above.

  Don’t. You NEED to get out of here.

  Coerced by his persistent need to keep snooping around, Jackieboy Man ignored what his gut was telling him and cautiously progressed towards the cage. His breathing grew unsteady with each step he took, wary of something lurking in the shadows and waiting to pounce. He should’ve been leaving; he should’ve been looking for Jack. Why the hell was he still here?!

  He looked to the wall to his left, standing right outside the cage as he felt around for a light switch. His body stiffened when he flicked the switch, bracing himself for something to spring forth to reveal itself. The lights flashed, flickering on one after another, shedding light on what was in the ginormous cage. Jackie had to squint and blink a few times over to allow his eyes to adjust to the brightness, what with having gotten used to being in the dark. Becoming accustomed to the light, he could finally see the setup of the room. Swallowing thickly, the hero pulled the door open, a nearly deafening screech producing from it. He sucked in a breath as he stepped inside.

  It gave off the appearance of a large prison cell. The three walls making up the room for which the cage surrounded were made up of blackened bricks and the flooring was a lot more scuffed up than the smooth and glossy one taking up the rest of the lair. A few rusted pipes lined the left wall, the side of which there was a cracked porcelain sink adorned with mahogany-red stains. A shattered mirror hung crookedly above it, shards of it both in the sink as well as on the floor around it. An old corroded cabinet of sorts was situated across from the sink up against the right wall, one of the doors open with the contents inside spilled out on the floor: a few scalpels and a couple pairs of forceps, all of which were stained with the same mahogany-red as the stains in the sink. There were large hard-to-see portions of this red on the floor as well; Jackie could just barely make out spots and footprints all across the floor, like someone had been pacing around the place. Smeared handprints were visible on the walls as well, giving Jackie the impression someone had possibly been in a struggle. A harrowing amount of maroon had splattered all across the bedspread of the cot in the back, completely ruining it.

  Jackieboy Man hesitantly moved a step further into the room. The crunching of glass came from beneath his boot. He noticed how a rather large piece of the mirror was coated in what had to be dried blood, as though it had been used to wound someone or something. He swallowed dryly, not wanting to delve too deep into thought about what could have happened.

  Carefully maneuvering his way around the bits and pieces of glass, as well as the assortment of surgical instruments, the hero’s foot brushed against something; a light rattling originating from it. He stopped where he was, casting a glance down at his feet. His eyes followed the path of a chain, one end connecting to the left wall, close to the cot. The other end led elsewhere, curving around to the other side of the cot. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see what it was linked to.

  His thoughts were starting to get the better of him right then, flashes of Chase’s bloodied hat coming to mind. The lub-dubbing of his heart was going at an unsteady pace now, as was his breathing.

  Oh please no.

  Slowly and uncertainly, the masked man inched forward, one small step after another.

  Please.

  His eyes remained fixed on the chain, following it as he went to turn the corner.

  Don’t.

  A sinking feeling was developing in the pit of his stomach.

  Not Chase.

  Who he ended up seeing wasn’t Chase. Jackieboy Man froze, turning his body to face where the chain ended. His line of sight followed it, a hiccup of a gasp getting choked up in his throat. Eyes growing to the size of saucers and jaw dropping in horror, the hero was not prepared with what he saw. All of the blood in his face drained, going as white as a sheet and feeling a tad lightheaded. He stumbled backward, hand shooting up to cover his mouth to hold back a scream.

  Vacant blue eyes. A tuff of messy dyed hair. Unkempt dress clothes decorated with blood. The pale-grey face mirroring that of his creator.

  Jackie could barely breathe. His stomach dropped so suddenly, and with it, an invisible weight had chosen then to compress his lungs, forcing any and all air out of them. The thudding of his heart had skyrocketed to the point it hurt. He felt cold, he felt so abnormally cold all over. Fingers trembling, limbs quivering, breaths racked and erratic. Fear had swallowed the heroic ego whole.

  Get out. You need to get out. You need to get out now – RIGHT NOW!

  He didn’t think twice, he didn’t argue with himself. Not again. Jackie hurried out of the caged room immediately, slipping on a few pieces of glass and lurching forward into the door. He caught himself, straightening up and pushing away from the cage, bee-lining straight for the front door. The masked man was halfway to the exit when a sharp agonizing pain shot through his left arm. A cut-off scream was ripped from his throat, the thing latched to him sinking its teeth in deeper. Something was wrapped around his arm, applying pressure and squeezing it like a boa constrictor. Jackie staggered backward into the wire mesh, hissing through his teeth and going to grab at what was attacking him. His eyes bulged at seeing a forest green tentacle made up of veins tightening around his arm.

  “Sam?!” He exclaimed, taken aback at recognizing the septic eye, whose iris and pupil had pulled open into a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

  The optical organ gave a growl in reply, further strangling the hero’s arm and cutting off the circulation to his hand. Jackieboy Man yelped at the extreme discomfort, instantaneously reaching for the eyeball’s optic nerve and wrenching on it, trying to pull him off. He wasn’t letting up.

  “What the hell?! Let go!” Jackie tried, prying at the slippery nerve and managing to coil it around his fingers. “Come on, Sam, let go! It’s me!”

  Sam still wasn’t releasing his hold on the ego. He hissed warningly when the hero gave a harsh and rather violent yank, succeeding in peeling the septic eye’s nerve away. Clenching his teeth and bracing himself for the oncoming pain, Jackie tugged with all the strength he could muster. He let out a scream at feeling a piece of skin getting torn away as he ripped the feral eye from his arm, whipping him far across the room. Jackie pressed back into the cage, cradling his arm and taking a look at the damage that had been done. A good portion of his sleeve had been removed, beneath it a bite wound with the first layer of skin gone. Blood was welling up, already escaping and running down his arm.

  Jackieboy Man panted, wincing at the pain when he went to move his arm. He heard an angry hiss alongside the uneven sound of glitches, causing him to jerk his head up in time to see Sam launching himself in his direction. He dodged the snapping jaws dead set on tearing a new one into him, only to dart to the left again, nearly getting the tip of his nose bitten off. No matter where he moved, no matter how fast, the septic eye was swimming around at a startlingly rapid pace. Jackie kept on backing away, bringing his arms up to shield his face from the attacks. A sharp gasp was knocked out of him as Sam nipped at the open wound on his arm.

  “Sam, come on, it’s me! It’s Jackieboy Man!” He tried again, hoping to drive some sense into the little guy. The nerve of the eyeball got a hold of his wrist and lunged. Jackie quickly blocked the strike, grimacing at the piercing of teeth sinking into his flesh. “What’s gotten into you?!”

  Sam growled deeply, moving in a way like he had one goal to tear another piece of the hero away. Jackie jerked his arms hard enough to get the eyeball’s grip to loosen, giving him a chance to twist his hand and grab hold of Sam’s optic nerve. Through his gloves, he dug his nails in, really driving home pain into his assailant. He tugged and strained to pull at the septic eye’s nerve until Sam released him, letting out a distressed screech of his own. The ego saw his chance, sinking his nails in as deep as he could before whirling on his heel and hurling the eyeball directly into the wall of knives. Sam hit them with a light splat, squealing out of agony at grazing the edges of a few; mouth momentarily shrinking in on itself and revealing his iris and pupil. Jackie huffed where he stood, watching as the septic eye curled up, hovering in the air and locking onto the ego. Sam glared at him furiously, his form exploding into a flurry of tiny pixels briefly. Jackie’s face screwed up with bewilderment, having a hard time believing what his eyes just witnessed. A hiss of distain originated from the floating optical organ, getting ready to charge.

  “Sam, please!” The hero begged, not wanting to bring any more harm to his creator’s mascot. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

  The septic eye sprang at him without a thought, the jagged shark-like teeth sprouting forth once more. Jackie jumped back and ducked, arms crossed and protecting his face. Sam relentlessly assaulted him, striking him repeatedly, biting away at his arms like a rabid animal. The masked man would block a few hits, cringing and recoiling out of agony at each blow, stepping backward and making sure not to run into anything. With jaw clenched tight, and sucking in a breath, a hand balled up into a fist and he struck back, hitting the eyeball dead on. He backhanded him as a bonus to give himself some time to get some distance between them.

  Jackieboy Man ran for the front door, wanting to get the hell out and trap Sam inside. He yelped in surprise at spotting Sam out of the corner of his eye, mouth open wide and ready to bite. He barely had the time to react, spinning around and falling back into the table just as the septic eye attacked, stopped by the hero’s hand. Jackie stifled a cry at feeling his lower back collide with the edge of the table but having Sam’s teeth hook into the palm of his hand made him wheeze. He held himself up against the table, straining to curl his fingers around the eyeball, what with the pain radiating throughout his hand. Sam wiggled against the hero’s hand, nerve swishing back and forth like that of a tail of an irritated cat. He was starting to gnaw away at the palm of Jackie’s hand, ripping a helpless scream from the hero; blood leaking out of him and dripping to the floor below.

  The ego turned his head and quickly scanned the table for something to use, something to aid him in putting a stop to this. He had tried to talk to the septic eye and bring him back from whatever prison his heart had been shoved into. He had made an attempt only to be met with no change from his friend. Sam was still fueled by unrighteous fury and hostility and it didn’t seem like he was going to stop until Jackie had been taken down. Jackieboy Man couldn’t see any other way to end this but one. His sights landed on the large open jar.

  He snarled and gave a yell mixed with agony and frustration as he sank his nails into the eyeball; pushing back, grabbing hold of his nerve, and flinging him towards the front door. Sam hit it hard enough to knock it wide open, the eyeball screeching and spinning disoriented out into the hallway. Jackie didn’t dare pause and think before he acted. He reached for the large empty jar, headed for the exit, and right as the septic eye went to lunge at him, he swung the jar; sending the eyeball backward. A light spurt of slime hit the hero’s face at the impact. He heard a small whimper come from Sam, who had temporarily stopped in midair to rub at his own eyeball. When he blinked, Jackie caught sight of red blotches, evidence that a few blood vessels had popped from the collision.

  Sam blinked a few times before he turned toward his foe, hissing angrily with his nerve arched, ready to attack. Charging forth and growling, he took another blow from the jar, this time from above and with more force behind it. Another spurt of goo along with a petite amount of blood ejected from him. The optical organ hit the white-tiled floor of the hall, expelling a hybrid of a whine and snarl as a small amount of blood and goo oozed out of him onto the floor. He pried his eye open and scowled at the ego darkly, curling in on himself and hissing lowly. Jackie huffed and dropped to his knees, raising the jar above his head at the first sign of glitches breaking out across his friend. Sam’s form was briefly devoured by pixels, he went to move, and then he ate glass.

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Part 19 - Blood On Your Hands

Part 21 - The Hole at the Center of Everything

@hiraeyeths @cosmicvoyage @pagansheep @waitingfor-sunshine @deltastorm101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @haveaverynicetime-blog @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @cactoyote @sleep-ybitchenergy @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @ahalliance @vity-dream @thatcacidork @jacksinsanity @silvadraconis @adreamoverlife @viostormcaller @eldritchnebula @downed-crystals @umbralhelwolf @adizzycollegekid @kate807 @luckbandit @lisica-13 @nagrom10714 @anju-kurada

#god how I hope you guys are still interested #and really enjoy this chapter and the next #it's been insane trying to write them both believe me #I can picture everything so easily but trying to put it all into words and making it sound good....christ #a real challenge #glitched #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfic #antisepticeye #antisepticeye fanfiction #antisepticeye fanfic #anti #jackieboy man #septic egos #fanfiction #horror #horror fanfiction #tw: blood #tw blood #sam septiceye #sam the septic eye #septic eye sam

[plume-pigmented-pili]

Hey hey! here’s a little something I wrote for Eli a few months ago. They convinced me i should post it, so here i am lol

———

Tw: Descriptions of a Cold, sickness (non graphic), feelings unwanted, coughing, headaches, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort. Let me know if I need to add more!

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Prinxiety (Written as Romantic but could be read as platonic i guess)

“Virgil is miserable. Its the middle of the night, and Virgil is stuck in bed, unable to sleep, with a horrible cold. The actual cold isn’t why he’s miserable, though.

Is it selfish to want to be cared for?”

—

Through Sickness and Health

Virgil could hear the clock on the opposite wall ticking just a tad too fast, and didn’t need to even look over at it to know it was way too late to be awake. Sure, he didn’t have the best sleep schedule, but at least he was usually enjoying himself when he stayed up, and it was rarely this late. It wasn’t even his fault this time.

But here Virgil was, laying in bed curled under all the blankets he owned, wishing he was dead. On paper, that sounds a lot worse than it really was, but who could blame him? The sweet release of death sounded like heaven compared to suffering here any longer. His throat was sandpaper dry, nose clogged with snot, and what felt like a small bomb went off in his skull with every movement.

That, though, wasn’t the main reason he was suffering.

He’d been sick before, he knew it would be over soon, but no physical pain could compare to the hurt he felt, knowing that the others knew of his illness, and didn’t give a single damn.

There was no way they didn’t know what was happening - even if he’d tried to hide it, which he hadn’t, it’s not like acting was ever his specialty - but not a single one of them had batted an eye since he came down with this stress induced cold.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Patton had asked if he was feeling alright on day two, when Virgil had shuffled downstairs around three in the afternoon to grab a snack, hoodie flipped up as he dug around, his hands clearly shaky from fever yet he’d been too tired to try and hide it. He’d told Patton, in the least shaky voice he could muster, that he just wasn’t feeling very well.

In hindsight, it had probably been incredibly selfish of him to expect Patton to come to his aid and comfort him, maybe offer to tuck him in on the couch and make him something healthy to eat. He’d seen Patton do just that plus more when Logan or Roman were feeling under the weather after all. But despite knowing it was selfish, he couldn’t help the disappointment and sinking feeling he’d felt when Patton had simply responded with a gentle, almost pitying, “I’m sorry kiddo, thank you for telling me.” before walking away rather hurriedly, leaving it there.

The conversation rolled around in his head, as it had been for the past 5 days. Nobody had come to check on him, not even the resident fatherly side to see if he was feeling any better. He’d been downstairs one other time since that little exchange with Patton, but when he’d walked in on Roman and Logan talking casually in the living room, they’d both given him short, obviously forced smiles, and sunk out. That’d been on day three, and Virgil hadn’t gone back down there since. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Maybe they didn’t want to get sick? Or maybe they thought he was gross, and didn’t want to be near him. Did they think he would be rude to them?

All this thinking was making Virgil’s head hurt more. And it really didn’t matter the reason. They didn’t care, they clearly wanted to avoid him.

It hurt, worse than his actual sickness, having to stay away from everyone for days on end. It reminded him of the old days before he was accepted, when he wasn’t welcome anywhere else but the confinement of his room. He missed Patton’s warm greeting each time he walked into a room, or the rants Logan would get lost in that were strangely so calming. Most notably, though, he missed Roman.

He missed their stupid banter that always left him feeling more confident, and the never ending singing that Virgil pretended not to adore. Hell, he missed just talking to the creative side. He’d give anything just to have a conversation with him, just to lift his spirits a little. He longed for one of the warm, solid hugs that only Roman could give.

He would probably even give up his Disney posters, his entire MCR song library, or get banned from every Hot Topic in the country, just to be held and cuddled right at this moment. To be held in warm, secure arms, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and roses, and drift to sleep knowing he wouldn’t be alone in the morning.

That last one had about a zero percent chance of happening, even if he wasn’t sick and contagious, but Virgil’s sleep deprived, fever ridden brain had decided to be sentimental, and Virgil couldn’t even stop it. At least he wasn’t gone enough to consider asking for any of that comfort he craved. it’d be easier for everyone to just wait in his room until he was better. Then maybe things would be normal again.

And that was his plan, until someone knocked on his door.

The anxious side’s gaze shot over to the clock, grimacing when the quick movement made his eyeballs throb. Who the Hell was knocking on his door at nearly 3:45 in the morning?

“Who-“ Virgil cringed at how his gravely voice broke, cleared his throat, then tried again. “Who is it?”

“I knew you were awake!” Romans voice, surprisingly enough, came from the other side of the door. He was clearly trying to stay quiet, but for some reason, he sounded really… relieved, and chipper. A second later, the Prince added a bit more bashfully, “Uh, unless i just woke you up by knocking, and if that’s the case I sincerely apologize, I didn’t mea-“

“No, I w’s already awake…” Virgil interrupted with a slight slur, groggy brain trying to keep up with what was happening. Being the embodiment of Anxiety, though, meant he didn’t get to stop being anxious just because he was sick. Why was he here? Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t recall doing anything that could offend anyone since he’d been self-quarantined, but then again, he couldn’t really remember his last name at the moment either. He mumbled to himself as he untangled his legs from the covers, cursing the universe under his breath because his head felt two times it’s normal size. Then he took a deep breath and sat up. He didn’t want to make Roman uncomfortable or grossed out seeing him all sick in bed, cause holy shit would that be embarrassing. He still didn’t look great, but it was a small step. “Come in Pr’ncey.”

The door swung open, revealing a timid, bed headed Roman, who seemed to relax a little when noticing Virgil sitting up in bed. “Hey there.. sorry to barge in, I hope i’m not bothering you.” he said, voice still lowered and really quite gentle as he shut the door behind him.

Virgil went to shake his head, but stopped himself before he could cause himself fucking brain damage and just shrugged instead. “ y’re not both’ring me. ‘sup?” yikes, all this sitting up and trying to look presentable business was making him realize how exhausted he was. His eyelids felt heavy already.

Roman took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes steadily on Virgil like he was waiting for him to keel over and die, or cough on him. It seemed pretty damn dramatic, even for Roman. “I… just wanted to check on you. I’ve uh, been a little worried about you, and i couldn’t sleep.” The Prince said, hesitant as he lowered himself on the foot of the bed.

Virgil blinked a few times, curling his legs up so his knees were to his chest to make sure Roman wouldn’t touch his feet under the 5 layers of blankets he had over him. Or maybe it was the sudden, treacherous hope that was rising in him, a hope he was trying to stifle. Roman was… worried about him? Roman of all sides? I mean, he wasn’t surprised that he cared, he and Roman were friends now after all. Virgil was just surprised he cared about this. He thought they were all in agreement to avoid him or something.

Virgil was about to open his mouth and say… something - he didn’t really know what he was going to say. It felt like his train of thought was chugging along through molasses - but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Dude… no offense, but you look like actual death. And why in the name of Hades are you buried under so many blankets?” The Prince asked with what sounded like genuine confusion, at least for the second part.

Virgil huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around him, the movement causing him to shiver. He couldn’t decide what to focus on; The cold air on his back, the rising sensation of relief knowing Roman cared, or how weird that question had been. Quite honestly, Virgil wasn’t offended because he knew he looked like shit. he was just a little confused. He thought Roman would have known he’d look like shit. “What do you mean why do I have so many blankets. I literally feel like ’m freezing to death. ’s part of the package, shouldn’t you know this?” He practically deadpanned, not even for the snarkiness like usual. His speech was just dull.

But that only left Roman looking more confused, and probably a good deal more concerned if his expression was anything to go by. “I-... I didn’t know that, no.. I’m sorry. Do you want another blanket or something…?” he asked carefully, still awfully and almost painfully cautious.

And Virgil… was at a loss for how this could possibly be new information to Roman. it was pretty common knowledge even if you’ve never had a fever before. But instead of dwelling, Virgil once again stopped himself from shaking his head, sighing instead. “No, it won’ help.” he said shortly. The effort would be futile, but it was endearing that Roman at least asked. “Thanks though. That’s.. really nice of you t’ offer.” The anxious side offered a bit more quietly.

There was an awkward silence that followed, Roman shuffling his feet against the carpet slightly as he looked around the room. Virgil saw the other’s eyes catch on the pile of used tissues in the floor, another bout of confusion flashing in his bright green eyes, but he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe it was a lack of sleep making the Prince act so clueless at the moment. “I… I guess i’ve just.. i don’t know, everything is more boring without you around. Nobody to insult without actually offending them.” Roman spoke again after a moment, sending a half smile in Virgil’s direction.

A little smirk matched with a snort is what the Prince was rewarded with, Virgil's spirits lifted regardless of his misery. It felt nice knowing he was missed, and it made his chest warm knowing it was coming from Roman. For some reason, knowing he could make things more bearable for his counterpart was.. rewarding, in a way. And Roman looked proud of himself, before he continued a bit more solemnly. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, like what, 5 says now?”

That got Virgil to sigh, and maybe there was some defensiveness laying beneath the surface, made worse thanks to being miserable, but all he managed was a mildly annoyed side eye to Roman as he responded in a mumble, still doing his best not to run Roman off. “‘t’s not my fault.”

Roman was quick to shake his head, slight guilt in his expression. “I know! I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad, i guess i just- i don’t know, i’m just talking out loud… sorry.” Roman’s voice had quieted, eyes trained on the floor somewhat shamefully as he seemed to search for his words. “I just.. I just wish…” but once again, he trailed off, shaking his head and seeming to give up. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, Princey.” Virgil mumbled back, eyes dropping to his lap where he picked at a loose string on his bedspread. Another silence followed, Virgil trying to sniffle as silently as he could. Despite how weird this interaction had been so far, and how slightly awkward it’s gotten, Virgil was honestly just trying to soak in the mere presence of another side while it lasted. He’d never liked being alone for so long. His stomach was starting to hurt for a reason aside from sickness. This sure was a good way to get Roman to leave early, the others were probably right for leaving him alone so far.

Suddenly, Virgil squeezed the blankets in his fist to try and stop a sudden tickle in his throat, the sensation coming out of nowhere. Unfortunately though, his instincts won out just seconds later as he was forced to cough, the sound gargled and gross even when he covered the whole bottom half of his face with his covers. Dammit, dammit, stupid fucking cough. And Roman just got there too. He wasn’t ready for the creative side to leave again yet.

“S- Sorry, sorry ‘bout that. Shit.” He mumbled rather quickly, hoping to by just a few minutes longer of the creative side’s company before it was taken away again for who knows how long. His head felt like it was being split open, no thanks to the effort it took to cough. Who the Hell’s idea was sickness? They should be fired.

Much to his surprise though, when Virgil hesitantly looked up to gauge how put off Roman was by his display, he only saw an overwhelming about of worry, but even more importantly, alarm.

“Apologies, but is this like- normal??” Roman asked with eyes noticeably wider, studying Virgil's pained expression, hunched over posture, the mess of dirty tissues around, and the way the bright numbers of his digital clock on his nightstand was covered carefully, with a washcloth no doubt.

Virgil drew in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he rubbed on his temples to try and alleviate some pain, eyes closed and head tilted down. Roman’s ridiculous questions were just making his headache worse, and honestly he didn’t even understand how the Hell he was so confused. Was this his plan? To come in here and confuse Virgil and his already incapacitated brain? ‘Cause if so, he was doing a brilliant job. “Roman, what the hell are you talking about.”

It came out less like a question, more like a very tired statement, but he was answered with confused stammering, Roman gesturing almost desperately to Virgil and his state. “What do you mean what am I talking about?? Dude, you’re clearly not doing well. I mean, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but you’re sweating like a sinner in church, you’re covered in a thousand blankets, you were just hacking up a lung and you’re barely able to speak right from, what i’m assuming, is a nose full of mucus!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I look like shit, Pr’ncey, enough said.” Virgil snapped, glaring up at Roman and accidentally moving his head up to look at him too fast, sending a flare of agony through his skull. He cursed under his breath and winced, but powered through it even as Roman lifted a hand to- to what, help? It didn’t matter, Virgil moved away from the effort. “No, don’t touch me, alright? I don’t wan’ your pity.”

Virgil knew all of this was coming out more aggressive than he ever would allow if he was feeling himself. Hell, even now he was begging himself to just shut up and stay calm. But after almost 2 full days with no sleep, and 5 days of nonstop pain, coughing, being unable to breath properly, the feeling of fire in his throat every time he tried to eat, and then on top of that, being shunned by the 3 people he wanted- needed, more than anything. Well, he really couldn’t stop his composure from cracking and shattering.

Roman looked ready to respond, seemingly struck with more pity than before, but Virgil’s hand shot up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it, Princey. Why the Hell are you even here anyway? If you’ve missed me so much, why did you wait 5 f’cking days to come see me? T’ come ‘check on me’? And, by th’ way, so far you’ve really only been fucking with me and making me feel worse, so in reality it probably would ‘ve been better had you just kept up your streak of avoiding me like ev’ryone else!”

Virgil was breathing heavily, head pounding and lungs burning after raising his voice just a bit too much at the end of his rant. He replayed the words back in his mind, heart sinking when he realized how aggressive he’d gotten. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, why couldn’t he slow his breathing?? Jesus christ, he wasn’t about to break down on top of all that other shit he just unleashed. Perfect, he was just proving the other side’s point for them.

With his body now starting to shake, jaw clenched to hold back tears because this week has been bullshit, and he felt like curling up and disappearing, if not to escape his aching body then to at least escape the anger he knew would result from that whole verbal meltdown he just had. Obviously Roman would be leaving, but would he yell first? Tell him how annoying and selfish he was, and how he didn’t get to be a huge asshole just because he was feeling a little under the weather? Or would he leave in silence, just exit the room with that silent, cold anger that Roman only showed when he was really upset.

Maybe he’d tell everyone else what happened, how he’d tried to extend an olive branch, test it out just to see if maybe his illness hadn’t made him into a pathetic prick, but Virgil lashed out as expected and ran him off. Would Logan and Patton get mad at him too? Come in and tell him off for being so horrible to his own family, that he couldn’t even be a decent person for 5 minutes.

Maybe things wouldn’t go back to normal even after he’s recovered, all because he couldn’t just control himself.

“Virgil, what are you talking about?” Roman asked exasperated, and Virgil dragged his hands down his face. He meant to make more of a growl in frustration, but it came out closer to a pained whine. His eyes stung for a new reason now. He just wanted this to stop. Why wouldn’t Roman just stop?

“What. What am I talking about what. I can’t do this- this whole vague shit righ’now, jus’ spit it out.” He hated how short tempered he was sounding, but Roman didn’t seem to be fazed. Virgil could see the Prince waving his hands around in his peripheral, looking tongue tied.

“The- The part where you think i’m fucking with you?? Why you think we’re avoiding you?? Why you’re so-... so….” Roman trailed off, a look of realization crossing his face, which quickly turned to horror and guilt. “Wait a… w-wait a second, Virgil, are you- are you sick??”

To say Roman sounded appalled would be an understatement, his eyes wide in shock, brows drawn, mouth slightly agape. Virgil’s head spun, suddenly dizzy as his brain tried to figure out why Roman sounded so horrified- why he sounded so surprised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt nauseous and he just wanted to sleep. Before he knew it, tears were trekking down his face, thick tears springing from his eyes making the pressure behind them even more unbearable. A sob tore painfully from his throat, instantly catching the Prince’s full attention.

“Oh my… Virgil-“

Virgil shrunk away from the Prince’s voice, curling up once more into a ball, trying to hide from everything. His lip wobbled, he could feel it, but he was too tired to be embarrassed or feel pathetic. He pulled the covers closer around him. “R-Roman, please jus’-“ He hiccuped on a sob, hissed through his teeth as the action sent a sharp pain through his lungs. “I don’ know i-if you’re tryin’ to joke ‘r somethin’, but— but ’s n- not funny, o-okay?”

Instead of speaking clearly at a normal volume, Virgil was nearly mumbling the entire time he was speaking, slurring through words even worse than when the conversation started. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? “Please, i… i need you t’...” Virgil huffed for breath, exhaustion wearing on him like a switch was just suddenly flipped. It nearly took all his energy to try and get a deep breath.

“Ro…”

Virgil was met with a warm, broad chest, and strong arms wrapping around him before he even knew he was slumping forward. His ears were ringing, drowning out what sounded like a familiar voice speaking to him. They sounded distressed, he hoped they were okay. What was combing through his hair? He couldn’t quite remember what was going on before then, but all he knew was, he was safe now.

Then, the world went dark.

———

Virgil came into consciousness a little while later, his brain the kind of blissfully empty that only comes after passing out, apparently. He couldn’t grasp where he was before, existing in a reality where there is no past for a few moments. His head was vaguely aching, like a dull throb faded into the background, and his lungs stung only a little when he breathed in deeply. In his sleepy state though, Virgil didn’t concern himself with those feelings.

Virgil couldn’t see anything, he noticed not long after, but he could hear murmuring and the distant sound of water running.

Next, he realized he knew he wasn’t in his own room anymore, both because this wasn’t his mattress, and the room didn’t smell like his own.

He could smell.. cinnamon… and peaches… and ink. Somewhere in his groggy brain, Virgil recognized the smell, but at the moment it was just out of his reach. It didn’t bother him, though, not when he was so relaxed and calm. He felt like he was one with the bed, and the soft, fluffy sheets encasing him.

A few more seconds of coming to, and Virgil realized his eyes were covered with something damp, and cool… soft too. It felt amazing against his warm skin. oh right, i’m sick, a thought entered his mind gently.

Then, a lot less gently, the events from before he passed out rushed to the forefront of his mind, practically smacking him in the face. Because yes, he’d passed out, right in front of Roman like an idiot, oh shit, why isn’t he in his room, where is he-

“Virgil? Hey woah, calm down buddy- here,” Virgil heard someone quickly cross the room, and tended his body for all of two seconds before the washcloth over his eyes was being lifted.

Virgil blinked blearily, squinting his eyes even though the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, save for a thin line of light coming from the cracked bathroom door. Someone was sat beside him on the side of the bed, but he was too blurry for Virgil to make out details.

“There you are. Hey Hot Topic, how are you feeling?” the person asked, speaking more gently than anyone had spoken to Virgil in a long time. Strangely though, Virgil wasn’t upset by it. It was.. nice…

Wait a minute, he knew that voice.

“R- Roman..? I.. Where…?” Distantly, Virgil knew he sounded like shit, which meant he probably looked like shit, and directly after asking that half assed question, he realized he had to be in the Princes room. “Oh.. fuckin’- I passed out on you..” he groaned, moving his hands up to scrub the blurriness from his eyes.

It worked, surprisingly, and now that Virgil could see, he realized that yes, Roman was the one sitting next to him, and yes he was in Roman’s room, in Roman’s bed. He also noticed how tossed Roman’s hair was, and the bright red with little snowmen pajamas the Prince wore. They were really adorable.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did.. and I’m also afraid that I am partly to blame for it.” Roman sighed, casting his eyes down as he pressed his lips in a line.

Virgil’s brows drew together, and, because he was so delirious, he reached out to grab gently at Romans sleeve. “How is it your fault that I passed out?” he asked incredulously. At least he could speak properly now. Now? Now since when? Oh geez, “Wait how long have I been out? A few hours? Days? Years?! Did I fall into a coma?!”

The corner of Roman’s lip lifted in amusement, and he gently lay a hand over Virgil’s, on his sleeve. “No, no nothing like that, Dark Knight. It’s only been an hour or so. I.. hope you don’t mind, but I had to bring you in here. Your fever was… really high.” The Prince of Creativity said, solemn by the end.

“I think i’ve managed to get it down, so it’s not so dangerous anymore, but Logan will definitely have to keep an eye on it today.”

That got Virgil's attention. “Wait- Logan? Uh.. yeah, not to burst your bubble Princey, but I doubt that’ll be happening.” There was a slight bitterness to his tone as he wrapped his free arm around his midsection, and though there wasn’t as much bitterness as there usually would be, Roman still picked up on it loud and clear.

He inclined his head, as if in agreement, and Virgil stomach only sunk a little bit before Roman was speaking again.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Virgil. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding. This is how I’m partially responsible for your passing out, same as Logan and Patton are also partly to blame.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, breath hitching at the sheer ridiculousness of that suggestion. No!! How could it be their fault? He’s the one that got so sick and couldn’t keep himself healthy enough not to fucking pass out. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Roman held up a finger before he could get out a single word, silencing him.

“A few days ago, 5 to be exact, it came to Patton’s attention that you weren’t feeling yourself. He told me and Logan that you told him you weren’t feeling very well, and that we should all give you some space the next few days.” Roman said carefully. Ah yes, that conversation. The one that’s haunted Virgil for nearly a week. Virgil remembered it well.

With a hesitant, still very lost nod from Virgil, Roman continued. “It seems that Patton, and in turn, Logan and I, assumed that your strange behavior was linked to.. well, anxiety.” He gave Virgil’s hand a light squeeze, any sign of a smile gone and replaced with pained regret. The Prince swallowed, just as Virgil pieced it together.

“Because of these more stressful times Thomas is experiencing, we wrongly thought that you were having a rough week, leading to worse anxiety. So… we’ve been leaving you on your own, thinking we were helping you..”

Virgil.. didn’t know what to say. He looked up and found Roman’s red, sorrowful eyes. When he focused, he could see they were just a little bit bloodshot, even in the dark. Proof that he had previously cried, no doubt about this. When Virgil didn’t speak, still too shocked as his slowed brain processes this, Roman continued, quietly choking back a sob just after he averted his gaze to the floor.

“V-Virgil-“ he voice cracked. Virgil’s heart was sinking in his chest. Roman had never looked so heartbroken. “Virgil I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sick, none of us did! I-I swear I didn’t know, I would have never left you alone if I had, Virgil, Star, i’m so so s-sorry,”

Roman was practically full on crying by that point, though he clearly tried to keep it to himself and stay quiet. Virgil was grateful for the effort, but there were much more important things to focus on at the moment. He may not be completely himself, but he still couldn’t let Roman be so sad.

It was because he wasn’t completely himself that Virgil automatically sat up (taking his time to do so, trying not to upset his head), and leaned himself right against Roman, chest to chest, looping his arms around to loosely hold Princey in a hug.

It all made sense now, why he’d been ignored all week, and why nobody came to check on him or try to help. He felt a little (read: a lot) stupid for thinking that anyone in his famILY would do anything but show him the upmost care and attention when he needed it. They thought they were helping, and honestly, had he in fact been having a bad week of heightened anxiety, giving him space would have been the right thing for them to do.

Roman was quick to return Virgil’s hug, though to his credit, his hug was a lot stronger and more secure than Virgil’s. He buried his face in Virgil’s hair, a steady stream of teary apologies spilling from him. A steady stream that Virgil hastily tried to end.

“Roman, it’s okay… i’m not upset, I promise it’s okay. I know you were doing what you thought would help me. Please don’t cry, Princey.” He said softly.

It might have been a few more minutes, or a few hours, that the two sides sat together in each other’s arms. Roman’s cries and apologies slowly quieted to a stop, though the gentle combing of fingers through Virgil’s hair only continued as they sat.

“Hey… Roman?” Virgil whispered after a few more moments, the whole mindscape quiet, save for the quiet sniffles from both Virgil and Roman every once in a while.

“Yes, sweet Midnight?” came an equally gentle response. Neither side moved, Virgil too content with his face snuggly buried against his counterpart’s shoulder, and Roman too content with having Anxiety safe in his arms.

“Would… well, you can say no, but would you mind.. if I stay in here..? I don’t… really want to be alone…” a hint of Virgil’s usual anxious tendencies showed itself despite the tiredness that was starting to cover the darker side. Instead of head-swimming exhaustion though, this time Virgil felt pleasantly heavy and relaxed.

Without uttering another word, Roman pulled them both down to lay their heads on the pillows, lifting one hand to gently flick his wrist and manipulate the covers around them. The light in the bathroom turned off with a soft click of Roman’s fingers, one that Virgil hardly registered as he shuffled somehow closer to the Prince, still tucked safely in his arms.

As he fell softly and smoothly into the first restful sleep he’s had in days, Virgil noticed that he wasn’t freezing cold anymore. The dull throb in his head had gone away almost entirely, and it felt that much easier to breathe. But most importantly, Virgil felt less alone than he had in a long, long time.

Needless to say, Virgil was feeling better already.

#tw sickness #hurt/comfort #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #prinxiety #virgil x roman #romantic prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 9)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 5,584

Summary: In the aftermath of chapter 8, Steve is on the warpath, Javier seeks advice from an old acquaintance and he and Horacio have a much-needed heart-to-heart. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of canon-typical violence, PTSD symptoms (nightmares and flashbacks), brief mentions of sex work, brief mentions of parental loss, alcohol, smoking, swearing, some angst but with a generous side order of fluff and all the feelings (because when is it not about all the feelings with these two?).

Notes: Apologies this was finished a lot later than I intended, but life has been busy over the last month, so I haven’t had as much time as I’d like for writing. BUT, chapter 10 basically just needs editing now, so that should hopefully be posted soon. We’re getting there, slowly but surely 😉 Huge thank you to anyone still reading, it’s greatly appreciated. As always, please feel free to chat to me about any of it either on AO3 or Tumblr!

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 9: Until Death Do Us Part

Once back at base, Javier had barely stepped out of the police car when Steve marched towards him wearing a thunderous glare.

Steve’s mood wasn’t helped when he passed Horacio and Trujillo, who made every effort to avoid his gaze as they hurried back towards the school. If he hadn’t been suspicious already, he certainly was now.

“Javi, what’s with the radio silence? Where the fuck are the spotters?”

“Carrillo, er, had a change of plan and cut them loose.” Javier kept his eyes rooted to the floor as well, already sensing that Steve wasn’t going to be deterred from his line of inquiry.

“What?! We’re just letting people go now?”

Javier concentrated hard on retrieving the keys from his pocket as he moved towards his own vehicle. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Javi, stop. What’s goin’ on?” Steve’s tall frame towered over Javier, obstructing him from making the rapid exit he was desperate for.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Javier managed to hold his fingers steady for long enough to slot his key into the lock before yanking the door open. Almost there.

However, Steve caught the door and grabbed Javier’s arm to halt him in his tracks. “Hey, would you fuckin’ talk to me, Javi?!” 

“Let go of my fucking arm.” Javier stared at Steve’s fingers on his sleeve, half-tempted to shrug out of his leather jacket and flee if it meant this conversation could be over with. The walls were closing in around him and Steve had never seemed larger as he edged nearer and nearer to the truth.

Just as expected, Steve showed no sign of backing down as he eyeballed Javier, never letting up his grip. “I will when you tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened.” The truth and a lie wrapped up in one. “Carrillo just scared them a bit, that’s all.” Scared him, more like. “Threatened to do worse if he caught any of them again. End of story.”

“So…we waste our time gathering intel, just for him to let them go and not bring anyone in for questioning? What the fuck, Javi? That makes no sense!”

“Why don’t you ask him? I’m not his fucking lapdog.” Even though they were in the open air, Javier couldn’t shake the feeling of being cornered. Any attempt to explain was futile, leaving himself vulnerable to contradictions or inconsistencies that Steve would spot a mile off. He couldn’t deny sending him Horacio’s way was a risky strategy as well, though, but deflection was all he had left.

Steve couldn’t stop the harsh scoff from escaping his nose. “Coulda fooled me.” 

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Javi. He says jump, you ask how high. Every damn time! Even now when he’s hardly been back five minutes. What is it with you two?”

An excruciating silence followed. Javier had never been more eager for the ground to swallow him up. There was no way for him to answer that question without inciting even more compromising ones.

By some miracle, Steve was in full flow and saved Javier from scrabbling for a response. “Oh, and thanks for the support today, by the way. When I may as well have not been in the room. What the fuck was that?”

“Look, Steve, I’m tired. I’ve already told you everything I know. Carrillo’s decisions aren’t mine, so I suggest you take it up with him.”

Whilst Steve was distracted and ranting, Javier managed to manoeuvre himself around his partner and into the driver’s seat. He slammed the door behind him and started the engine before Steve could respond. He had to get out of there, away from Steve’s interrogation and away from Horacio. 

Without a backward glance, he sped off into the night, leaving Steve with more questions than he’d started with.

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Horacio shut himself in his office as soon as he arrived back at Carlos Holguín. He wasted no time in unscrewing the cap on the bottle of whiskey Trujillo had given him as a welcome home gift and poured a hefty measure. The taste didn’t even register as he knocked it back in one. It was little more than a burning sweep of heat sliding down his throat, numbing his senses for the briefest of seconds and taking his mind off the tremble in his right hand.

He refilled the tumbler, the light from the bottle catching on the wall where his array of commendations hung in their neat frames. Each one taunting him for the fact he was back here again. Giving rise once more to the unshakeable feeling of judgement from beyond the grave.

His father’s office had been decorated in a similar fashion, except with more awards and less bloodshed tainting them. Part of him wanted to destroy them, or at least hand everything back. After all, his superiors were already waiting for him to slip up, to fail, to prove them right. The sole person who had wanted him to return was Gaviria, and even then, it was for his ruthless methods more than anything else. It wasn’t an achievement he was proud of, but perhaps this was always meant to be his real punishment rather than Madrid.

Javier’s crestfallen expression in the alley burned into Horacio’s memory like acid, corroding any foolish notion of keeping his commitments separate now he was back on the frontline. There was no getting away from the fact that the two parts of his life were intrinsically linked. Or that it was his and Javier’s shared history that pulled him from the brink that very night. Who knows what he would have done without it?

It happened in such a blur; it was difficult to piece it all together. It was as though his mind detached from his body as it raced through flashback after flashback. When he opened his eyes and found his gun jabbing against the boy’s forehead, he could have sworn his hand belonged to someone else. Or was that wishful thinking? It was easier to tell himself that, like it was easier to blame everything on the ends justifying the means. But what end would this have achieved?

One fewer child under duress doing Escobar’s bidding wouldn’t have made any difference. It would have just left another grieving family, not unlike the ones he’d delivered the same bad news to on countless occasions. They were all under the cartel’s thumb one way or another. It was a matter of luck and circumstance that determined which side of the war those caught in the crossfire ended up on. And it was why he was thankful every day that his nieces and nephews were a safe distance away from Medellín. Away from him.

A serrated knot twisted inside him like a knife to the gut at the thought of their innocence. Of what he’d do if anything ever happened to them. Of how he’d been so close to committing nothing short of a monstrous act on someone else’s child. And what for? To make a point?

He took another swig of his drink in a bid to numb and keep the threat of vomiting at bay. He couldn’t help but wish he was back in Madrid of all places, which wasn’t something he ever expected to think. He missed his routine, his church and his pew. Week in, week out he’d forced himself to remember all of the collateral damage that had stacked up at his fingertips. He couldn’t afford to be complacent about the pain he’d caused already, and yet here he was all too willing to inflict more. It was becoming clear that the stability he’d found there kept him grounded. In fact, it was dawning on him that the only thing he’d found intolerable about Madrid was being apart from Javier.

The distant knocking behind him almost didn’t register until the rattle of the door handle jerked him out of his thoughts. His attention switched to Murphy striding across the room and there was no doubt he was on the warpath.

“I’d like to talk to you about what happened tonight.”

“What do you think happened?” Horacio retreated behind the safety of his desk, grasping at the vain hope that a physical barrier would protect him from the conversation that was about to unfold.

“According to Javi, nothin’, but something tells me that’s not quite true.”

“Enlighten me, Murphy.”

Steve stepped forwards, reducing the gap that Horacio had created. “Well, for starters, I know you left me behind on purpose earlier. I know you’ve got some sort of hold over Javi. I know he was pretty fuckin’ shaken up when he drove off god knows where just now. After avoiding my questions about you. That all strikes me as a bit more than nothin’. How am I doing so far?”

“Where did he go?” Horacio couldn’t stop himself cutting in, even if it did cause a look of complete bewilderment to cross Murphy’s face.

“Didn’t say, but I think we both know where he usually goes to blow off steam. Now, you gonna answer my question or not?”

Of course, Horacio knew. It was far from the first time he’d encountered Javier’s coping mechanism of choice, but it was the first time since Tolú. In all honesty, it bothered him before that, even when it wasn’t his place. When he didn’t understand the pangs of nausea simmering in the pit of his stomach if his men cracked jokes about Javier’s reputation. Or when he’d thrown back a drink – or several – that little bit harder on the nights Javier declined his company in favour of seeking distraction elsewhere. Each time unable to quash the irrational feeling that it should be him he was seeking distraction with. Even though it was probably him Javier had tried to escape from and forget, much like tonight.

The heavy weight of Murphy’s scrutiny hauled Horacio back to the present. “Whatever you think is going on, I can guarantee you’re wrong.”

Steve huffed out a wry laugh, finding a victory of sorts in Horacio’s words. “Yeah, that don’t sound like nothin’ to me. Whether this is about protecting me or you, stop icing me out.”

He stared Horacio down before he headed for the door. But he wasn’t done just yet as he turned back on his heel. “Oh, and as for Javi…let’s not pretend you don’t know he’d follow you no matter what, even if it cost him his visa. Or worse. You might wanna remember that next time you drag him into your shit.”

Before Horacio could respond, Steve was gone again. But his protective parting words echoed in Horacio’s ears like a warning siren that was impossible to ignore. It seemed Javier was right about his partner after all.

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Even though Javier hadn’t done this in a long time, he supposed it was an old form of autopilot kicking in. One that reared its head when he needed an escape without the expectation of anything beyond a transactional exchange. That wasn’t to say he never got anything more out of it, but it was always on his own terms. He gave as much of himself as he felt like, knowing it wasn’t going to be a long-term arrangement. However, he had his favourites and they seemed to like him too, as he wasn’t their typical client at all. He knew their names and their preferences, but more to the point, he seemed to care.

It had been years since he’d seen Gabriela, but in so many ways, their lives hadn’t changed. They both felt trapped in situations beyond their control, allowing themselves to be swept along by the tidal currents of fate and often needing an outlet to forget. 

One glaring difference this time, though, was Javier wasn’t there for sex.

He had considered it on the drive over. He hadn’t been with a woman for a long time and couldn’t pretend he didn’t still think about it on occasion, especially when Horacio had been in Madrid. Or after whatever the hell had happened tonight. But now he was here and it was real, he couldn’t go through with it.

They’d already torn enough pieces off each other in the last few hours as it was. Even though they had never declared themselves exclusive, it was clear they were. Particularly given the words Horacio had whispered on the night he returned. Words that Javier couldn’t repeat back, at least not yet. 

The last time he uttered them, everything fell apart. Not straight away, but in the end, those three words were more like a weapon than a term of endearment. And there was already enough violence surrounding them in Colombia as it was. He didn’t want to associate those words with all of this. Not when the ominous spectre of death continued to hover in the background. 

Javier sparked up a cigarette by the window. Flecks of street light shimmered against the murky pane of glass and cast the outline of his sharp profile in shadow. The white noise of the traffic below soothed him, along with the aromatic fog of perfume and tobacco that lingered in the air.

It hadn’t completely dispelled the memory of Horacio pressing the muzzle of his pistol against the boy’s head, though. Or the terror in the boy’s eyes in those few moments in which time stood still. Nor had it erased the icy chill of shock that ran through Javier at the deafening sound of gunfire. He’d closed his eyes, recoiling in horror from the scene in front of him until he found the courage to look for himself. And then came the dizzying whiplash of relief. A familiar feeling, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Gabriela lay across the bed wrapped in a silk robe. She took a drag on her own smoke whilst studying Javier with growing curiosity. "When you walked in here, I thought you hadn't changed a bit, but I was wrong. You seem different, Javi."

Javier turned to face her, leaving his thoughts to one side as he absently rolled his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “What makes you say that?” 

“Well, you’re not in my bed for a start.” A smirk spread across her cherry-red lips, signalling to Javier that even though she may have been disappointed, she wasn’t offended.

“I – er, I’ll still pay you.” It’d always been his policy regardless of the reason for his visits. A job was a job, after all. He was here for selfish reasons that meant Gabriela couldn’t be with other clients, so compensating her for her time was the least he could do.

“It’s not as unusual as you think, y’know.”

“What isn’t?”

“Several of my clients do this. For the company, or the quiet, I don’t know, I never ask. And well, it gives me a break anyway.” She attempted another smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Javier moved away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you stop?”

Torn between rolling her eyes and laughing at the naivety of his question, she settled for something between the two. “Why don’t you?”

Touché. She had him there. All he could do was tilt his head in a conceding nod. “What would you do if someone you cared about wanted you to stop?”

“I’d tell them it’s not that simple, but I suspect that’s not the answer you’re looking for, is it?” 

Javier returned her knowing smile. “Not really, no.” He drew on his cigarette and exhaled before trying a different tack. “Okay, what would it take to make you stop, then?”

Gabriela mirrored Javier’s action as she considered her answer. "I've always figured there’ll come a day when the decision will be taken out my hands one way or another. Same way I got into this life in the first place. Couldn’t say what it’ll be, but I’ll know when it happens."

Javier nodded as he digested her response. It wasn’t the startling revelation he had hoped for, but rather the clarity he needed when it was all but impossible to see the wood for the trees. When it felt like he and Horacio were stuck in a never-ending spiral of self-destruction and mortal peril, it was easy to forget this wouldn’t be forever. Sooner or later, Escobar would fuck up and they’d be ready and waiting. They just had to hold on a bit longer, not lose sight of the bigger picture and most importantly, stay alive.

He leaned across to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand. "I better be going."

"So soon? Did I even help at all?"

Standing up to put his jacket on, he took his wallet out of his back pocket, thumbed through several notes – plus a few extra ones – and slid them onto the nightstand. "Yeah, you did. Thank you." He leaned down and lightly cupped her cheek. "You take care of yourself, okay? If you ever need anything, you know where I am."

“Thanks. I hope it all works out, Javi. For both of you." That was another thing that was different about Javier this time; he wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he used to be.

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Javier found himself outside Horacio’s apartment, his fingers twitching as he worked up the courage to knock. Something told him that Horacio would have wanted to get away from Carlos Holguín at the earliest opportunity. 

To his relief, his hunch was confirmed when the lock clicked on the other side of the door.

Horacio couldn’t hide the surprise and confusion from his face, clearly not expecting to hear from Javier further that night. Nor could he disguise the red tinge around his eyes and the fact the colour had long since drained from his complexion.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The silence between them stretched out for an eternity in the middle of Horacio’s lounge, as they were unable to meet each other’s eye.

“What happened?” Javier finally asked, his arms folded across his chest and his thumb resting on his chin.

“You mean why didn’t I shoot him? You of all people should know.”

“Me of all people?”

“The day you went after Sure Shot and Poison.” Horacio slumped down on the nearby couch. The exhaustion in his body was evident as he threw back the last remnants of his drink and waited for Javier to catch up.

Those names were a blast from the past Javier hadn’t been expecting. It was the day they’d found Olivia. And the day he had the gun pulled on him by the young boy. Memories from the aftermath soon unravelled one after the other. His and Horacio’s frenzied afternoon tryst, Javier staying the night at Horacio’s apartment for the first time and their conversation in bed. The tender way Horacio had consoled him when he had spiralled. When he wondered if he was capable of shooting the boy. 

Now he understood why the relief that had crashed over him in the alley felt so familiar. It was the same feeling that coursed through him on the rooftops. When he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Oh.” It was all Javier could manage in response. But he hoped it was enough for Horacio to know he remembered everything. And apparently, so had Horacio. A conflicting coil of emotions washed over him as he slotted the pieces together. “Did you plan it, though? I mean, before we got there. After we…”

“No, of course not! You think I’d do that just to get back at you?”

“No – fuck, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I just…need to know what happened.”

“It all happened so fast. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I heard that brat talking shit about my men, and something snapped. I can’t really explain it.” Horacio’s voice was hoarse and timid, almost as though he was scared of his own thoughts. Or rather, ashamed of them. “But that’s no excuse, and I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. You’ve been through enough already because of me. Because of my recklessness.”

Javier didn’t miss his earlier accusation repeated back to him. “I only said that because I worry about you. About what might happen to you. But I can’t pretend I’m not fucking relieved you didn’t do it.” As if to further emphasise his words, he let out a long, shuddering breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding on to.

As an outsider to Colombia, Javier rarely saw it as his place to pass judgement on Horacio’s actions. Particularly given his own track record. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of. Things he never thought he was capable of but had justified as necessary for the greater good. Even when that was more of a conscience-easing lie to himself than he cared to admit. And he knew in the back of his mind there would be things he was going to have to do that would no doubt haunt him in the future too.

There would be as much blood on his hands as Horacio’s once this was all over. And in Horacio’s defence, at least this was his country. What excuse did Javier have? It should have gone without saying that of course, he was fucking relieved he hadn’t witnessed something else entirely that night. Even in their messed-up profession of blurred ethical lines, boundaries existed that if crossed, there wasn’t necessarily any coming back from. But it wasn’t as though Javier had intervened, either, so this was never about being judge, jury and executioner. As usual, it was largely about his need to protect Horacio, even when it shouldn’t have been.

“On the plane from Madrid, I made a promise to myself I’d try to do better. For you. For us. But this place, it just…” Horacio trailed off with a shaky sigh, his hand raking through his hair instead as words failed him. How could he sum up what it was like to be back here?

“I know.” No further explanation was needed, though. They’d both lived through the last few years of carnage, most of it side-by-side. They’d shared a lot of the same scars and guilt, so it stood to reason there was a mutual understanding that went far beyond words.

Javier sat next to Horacio on the couch and placed a comforting hand on the muscle of his thigh. “It won’t be forever, though. We will get through this, and we will stop Escobar. We’ve just gotta keep our heads.” A statement of defiance for his own benefit as much as Horacio’s.

Horacio looked into Javier’s eyes, nodding with shared conviction as he entwined their fingers and squeezed tightly.

They remained joined together for a long moment before Javier spoke once more. “I’m sorry I ran off too. Again. I should’ve been there for you.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I understand. And I understand why you went…where you went tonight.”

“What? How did—?”

“Murphy came to see me after you left,” Horacio cut in before Javier could finish floundering. “You were right; he’s not stupid. He thinks I’ve got some sort of hold over you. And seems to know you pretty well too because he guessed where you went after.”

“Shit!” Javier dropped his head into his hand with an exhale and closed his eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

“Look, Javier, you don’t need to do this. I wish you wouldn’t push me away, but I get it. I deserved it.”

“No, wait, fuck! You’ve got it all wrong. Nothing happened. We just talked, that’s all.” Javier hesitated, undecided about whether he should reveal the whole truth before deciding to throw caution to the wind. “I did think about it on the drive there, though. But I couldn’t do it. And I don’t mean to – I don’t want to push you away.”

Horacio nodded slowly, accepting Javier’s explanation and confirming his understanding of what wasn’t being said as much as what was. Either his decryption skills were improving, or Javier’s code was getting easier to crack. Or maybe it was both. “I’m sorry for what I said back at base. I – I’m not pressuring you.”

Javier hoped subsequent events might have buried their initial argument, despite how unrealistic that was. “I know. I…just…I need more time. That’s all.” His eyes were glued to the floor, and guilt bore down on his chest, constricting and suffocating. “For the record, I haven’t – with anyone – since Tolú.”

He shifted his body to face Horacio, slotting their legs together as he raised his hand to cup his jaw. “Couldn’t.” He delicately brushed his thumb along his cheek before leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Wouldn’t.” His lips ghosted over Horacio’s as he spoke, his voice raw and fragile. “I only ever want you.” 

A string of soft yet deliberate kisses followed like secret declarations of their own. They were reminiscent of the ones Javier administered on Horacio’s first night back in Colombia, except now his words were starting to fill in the blanks as well.

“Even after tonight?” Horacio couldn’t hide the desperation in his whisper against Javier’s mouth, almost afraid of the answer. He’d just about pulled himself back from the edge, and he had no idea what the ripple effect of it was going to be. He saw the way Trujillo looked at him. At both of them. He’d no doubt have the same questions as Murphy. News was bound to get back to Escobar too, and God knows what his response would be. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Javier on top of everything else.

“Always.” Javier captured Horacio’s mouth in a deep, charged kiss that was unbroken as they stumbled towards the bedroom.

He abated Horacio’s fears in an instant, pouring everything he wasn’t ready to say into his actions. Needing to make Horacio understand now more than ever that they were on the same page and in this together. That it didn’t matter what he did, he still felt the same about him, about them, and nothing was going to change that.

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It was dark when Javier jumped awake, stirred by agitated movement next to him and distressed whimpering that cut through the umbra of the room.

Horacio’s eyes remained closed as he thrashed around, attempting to rid himself of the bedsheets whilst pulling them up around him at the same time.

Javier hesitated, unsure whether to rouse him or not. But the decision was made for him when Horacio sprang upright, gasping for air and calling out Javier’s name.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Javier flicked the switch on the bedside lamp before leaning over to Horacio and placing a hesitant hand on his back. When no flinch followed, Javier pressed more firmly against Horacio’s sweat-soaked skin, running his palm up and down in a soothing motion as he hushed his reassurances.

Horacio grabbed Javier’s free arm and pulled him towards his own body. He nuzzled his head against Javier’s shoulder, the relief palpable from the speed at which he relaxed into his warmth and deepened his breaths. “I thought I’d lost you.”

He was stood over the boy again. Sheets of rain bounced off the mud-streaked concrete at his feet, the rust-red droplets leaving a salty, metallic residue on his lips. His slippery fingers fumbled with the trigger and the gun fired before he could stop it. But when he opened his eyes, it was Javier who had collapsed to the ground.

With another flash, he surveyed the scene from a distance. Javier lay bleeding out on the floor, but the man looking down at him was no longer Horacio. It was Escobar.

“This is for Gustavo,” Escobar announced with triumph and malevolence in his eyes before he fired multiple times at Javier’s convulsing form and turned the gun back on Horacio. That was when he had woken up.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Javier’s fingers caressed Horacio’s damp hair as he cradled him against his shoulder and planted sporadic kisses wherever he could reach.

He eventually leaned across to the nightstand for his lighter and pack of cigarettes. He lit one up and took a drag before offering it to Horacio.

“Thanks.” Horacio couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed a cigarette this badly but suspected it was pre-Madrid. He took a long inhale followed by a deep exhale before passing it back to Javier again. “It was him.”

“Hmm?”

“In my dream. It was him. He killed you, and I couldn’t stop him. I just watched whilst he…” A choking lump lodged itself in Horacio’s throat, preventing him from finishing his sentence. He glanced down and noticed his right hand was shaking.

Javier continued to place gentle strokes up and down Horacio’s arm as they shared their cigarette. “Hey, it was just a nightmare. That’s all it was.”

“It felt so real, though. And…”

“And what?”

“When Murphy stopped by my office, he said you’d always follow me. Even if it got you sent home, or worse.”

“Steve said that?”

“Yes. And he’s not exactly wrong, is he?”

Javier scoffed through a plume of smoke. “I didn’t know he cared so much. But I wouldn’t take it to heart. He’s just insecure because you keep leaving him out. I know you’re not his biggest fan, but he is a good agent. And you need all the help you can get.”

Horacio considered that statement before accepting it with some reluctance. “Maybe so, but you might wanna give him a few Spanish lessons once in a while.” He attempted to remain deadpan until he caught Javier’s eye, then neither man could keep a straight face.

“Okay, deal. But you might wanna include him more often. Especially when you steal his ideas.”

Horacio couldn’t argue with that either and, after a long pause, he grunted in concession. “Fine, although I got the impression he thought he’d missed out on something a lot bigger tonight. If he’s looking for a ringside seat in future, I can’t help him there.”

“I know and, I wouldn’t ask you to. But if he realises there’s nothing to see, maybe he’ll calm down a bit.”

“Well, he’s your partner. You know him better than I do.”

Javier couldn’t deny that, but it wasn’t the comfort to him Horacio thought it was. Steve could be just as stubborn and headstrong as the man lying by his side, and Javier wasn’t convinced that he’d be so easily dissuaded. He’d already accepted there were going to be more awkward questions to answer sooner rather than later. But nothing was going to be solved tonight.

Instead, he focused on wrapping Horacio in his arms once they’d finished their cigarette. Even though Javier had managed to calm him down, he lay awake long after he was sure Horacio had drifted off again. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Steve had said in his absence, either. About the fact that there was more truth to it than he’d let on. It occurred to him there were no lengths he’d stop at to follow Horacio. Even when the rational part of his brain screamed at him not to follow, he couldn’t help it. He was drawn like a moth to a flame over and over again.

He didn’t know why but memories of the day before his wedding sprung to mind. It had been the rehearsal ceremony when the priest talked them through their vows and, a violent jolt of panic had struck him at the final hurdle. Until death do us part. Even as he’d casually said those five words, when it didn’t count in the eyes of the church or the law, he knew they were a lie.

He’d tried to shake it off as nerves; however, he was just delaying the inevitable. To this day, he regretted not speaking up there and then and saving Lorraine from the ultimate humiliation. But then, he always did have a habit of bailing at the most critical moments. A fight or flight response, he supposed.

Comparisons between theirs and his parents’ relationship had plagued his thoughts in the aftermath. His parents had stuck by that vow until the very end. He saw it in his childhood, in the way his father was throughout his mother’s illness and in her final days. He saw it after her passing and in how he still was now. Or at least how he’d been the last time Javier had seen him, which was longer ago than it should have been, even if they did still speak on the phone from time to time. It was something sacred he didn’t think he was capable of, or rather, didn’t think he deserved.

But that was then. Now, he looked back on everything he’d endured with Horacio. Whether it was barriers or obstacles beyond their control or their own demons and bad habits trying to force them apart. They always found a way back to each other somehow. Against the odds. Against all logic, sense and reason.

Given the stakes involved, they weren’t so much as playing with fire but dancing with the devil. It never stopped them, though. And that’s when it hit him. On the cusp of sleep, with Horacio secured against his body, Javier realised there was only one thing that ever could.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[mashedpotittiess]

Arrangements Chp, 2

Title: Arrangements. Chapter Title: A tumble in his bed.

Pairing: Lim Sejun x Reader. Mentions of Choi Byungchan and non romantic mentions of Do Hanse, Heo Chan, Kang Seungsik, Han Seungwoo and Jun Subin as well as OC’s.

All photo, music and other rightful credits belong to their rightful owners.

Summary: He was the aggravating fuckboy roommate of your best friends but maybe that’s what caused you to agree to such an arrangement. But will the arrangement work out? Between mutual friends, his other hookups and a certain romantic interest on your part, this could all be trouble.

Words: 6,500

Rating: M, there’s smutty smut in this chapter so avert your eyeballs. Jk, well unless you want to skip the smut which by all means.

Genre for this Chapter: College! au, Angst.

I don’t have a Beta so please excuse all grammatical errors as I try to correct them as I proof read but I do miss quite a few :c

Tags/Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of sexual scenarios, mentions of possible drug use (a roofie), Mentions of someone possibly wanting to take advantage of someone (While Nothing happens I need to put this as a warning as it can trigger some past experiences readers have had). Fighting, Bruising and blood, fingering (f receiving), slight cum eating, unprotected sex (wrap it up), light choking, pussy slapping O: , some dirty talk, creampie.

Fic Inspired playlist:

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad @rose-sereniteeth @for-his-dream-xciii​

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Hands clutching your cool glass of water as you brought the water beaded rim to your lips, it was suddenly snatched from your hands by an upset looking Sejun. Holding the glass in his hands, Sejun turned towards the Wide Receiver that donned a shock expression on his handsome face and Hanse came from behind Sejun side to wrap a protective arm around your shoulders. 

“You look like you could use some water, take a drink” the stern words leaving Sejuns mouth caused you to furrow your eyebrows. “Um excuse me? that’s my gla- mmhf” Your voice was cut of by the fingers and palm of one of Hanses hands as he softly ‘shh’d’ you.

“Bro, i’m not sure what you’re getting at but you all just interrupted my time with this pretty lady” Liam countered, reaching out to run his fingers down your arm that had been leaning on the counter. The movement caused Hanse to pull you further away from the man and you audibly ‘humphed’ annoyed by your best friend seemingly cock-blocking you.

“The fuck man! get your own girl to talk talk to!” Liams hand was clutched in Sejun’s empty silver ring clad hand as he reached out towards you again. “Don’t touch her! I know what you did” Hanse raised his voice as he clutched you protectively and your eyebrow rose in shock at the long haired man raising his voice in such an upset manner. 

Roughly pulling his hand out of Sejun’s grip Liam scoffed. “What did I do exactly?” with a smirk on his lips the footballer continued “From what I saw, your friend here was enjoying my company so scurry along”. Gesturing towards the archway of the kitchen Liam once again reached towards you and to your surprise, Sejun stepped in front of you placing his empty palm of the chest of man in front of him and shoved him backwards a step or two.

The movement caused the Wide Receiver to lunge at Sejun and the glass that had been clutched in Sejuns other hand was placed on the counter as he braced the impact of the slightly taller man. Dodging a left jab, Sejun countered with another harsh shove that caused the man to stumble backwards as his back hit the counter topped with chips near the archway of the kitchen. Pulling himself up, Liam was caught off guard by Sejun landing a solid knee to his chest.

The fight was garnering the attention of nearby partygoers and like school children, shouts of ‘fight fight fight’ and ‘fuck him up’ were heard through the small crowd of people getting closer.

Launching his body at Sejun, Liam landed a left jab to Sejuns eyebrow and caused the skin to rip open at the arch. You had been trying to pull your body from Hanses as the fight got worse than just a shoving match but Hanse had a solid grip of both of his arms around your body and your side pinned against the counter.

With a harsh sounding jab-cross from Sejuns left and right fists, Liam was sent backwards again. Before either man could land another blow, the crowd that had now doubled in size parted slightly as Heo Chan and who you knew as Seungwoo followed by Byungchan burst through the archway. The first two men wrapped their arms around either one of Liams and Byungchan stepped in front of the Grey haired man.

What looked like the rest of the frat starts doing damage control as they tried their best to ‘herd’ the tipsy partygoers away from the scene with ‘BODY SHOTS!’ on the Sorority next doors members.

“The fuck is going on?!” Seungwoo raised his voice and Liam shrugged, a ‘this guy fucking started it man’ leaving his lips and he try to launch himself yet again at the bored looking Sejun. Hanse had stepped a foot away from the counter he had you practically pinned against and you used the opportunity to push against his body with your left elbow knowing he’d release you. You had won every wrestling match the two of you had over the last mini bag of hot cheetos and you knew the only reason he had such a good hold on you while the fight was happening was because your body had been anchored against the hard counter.

As your body pulled away from Hanses grip, Sejun spoke up with a serious tone in his voice. “He tried to Roofie her, Hanse saw it.” Liams eyes went wide and he stopped his movements in trying to launch at the man in front of him. “I..No he’s fucking crazy, We were just talking and he came in swinging!” Liam shouted and Chan looked towards Seungwoo as Sejun addressed his earlier question.

“Sejuns right, he dropped a white pill in y/ns water when she was getting something from the fridge. I seriously doubt she knew what he was doing.” Liams head shook as he denied the accusation from Hanse. “He probably has more in his pockets” Sejun suggested and gestured with a jut of his chin towards Chan who’s arm was still wrapped around the man he had been fighting.

Pulling Liams plaid shirt away from his white t shirt underneath, Chan reached in as Seungwoo held Liam still and pulled a small transparent bag from the man in questions inside breast pocket. As Sejun suggested, inside the bag was two small white circular pills.

Looking down at the glass to your right that you had almost drank, you felt your stomach drop at what could have happened had your best friend and Sejun not stopped it.

“Whatever man! She wanted it! I was just helping her get comfortable! Come on, you know how girls ar-“ Before he could continue your two best friends and Sejun launched themselves at him and the two men that had been holding him pulled away disgusted by his words. 

No punches could be landed as you rushed forwards and shouted “STOP” as the three men in front of you turned around seemingly confused as to why you would stop them from giving Liam what he deserved.

“y/n he wa-“ Cutting Hanse off you stepped in front of Liam and pulled your first back before landing in on his jaw. The pain radiating in your hand let you know he’d need stitches or more. Launching your body on his you landed another punch this time to his cheek. “You fucking disgusting excuse for a human!” You shouted as you landed yet another hit his face before your body was being lifted off of his. 

To say Liam was in shock when you hit him was an understatement, when you launched your body onto his trapping his hands under his own weight he had still been in shock but seeing your body pulled off of his and feeling the pain radiating from his face he pulled his right hand back and in a split second landed it heavily on your cheek in something closer to an open handed punch than a slap.

Liams body was hastily pulled away from his crouching position as Seungwoo held him up by his collar against the wall. “Piece of shit, get your ass out of this house. VTN house members have never and WILL never drug anyone or harm a woman in any way. As much as I’d love to have her further kick your disgusting ass or hell I’d love to give you what you deserve, I don’t think any of us need a case. I will be letting couch James know about what happened as well as the schools President. I can guarantee your expulsion, now you have five fucking minutes to leave out that door before I rethink the possibility of catching a case.”

Releasing Liam from his hold, you all watched as Liam hobbled his way out of the kitchen and through the still there partygoers towards the front door clutching his face with a string of curses leaving his swollen and bloodied lips. 

“y/n right? I’m so beyond sorry this happened. His actions were inexcusable and as the leader of this frat I assure you I will make sure justice is served and after the proper authorities are aware he will never set foot on campus grounds” With an upset tick in his jaw, Seungwoo looked you straight in the eyes with his chocolate brown ones and you knew he wouldn’t go back on what he said, you could feel his anger radiating off of his body in waves.

Nodding your head you accepted his apology that you insisted he didn’t need to make as it was not his fault. The arms that were still holding your body after pulling you off of Liam earlier loosened and you turned your body to face them. Byungchan and Sejun had both been holding you and before you could thank Sejun for what he had done, you were being pulled into a tight hold by Hanse and Byungchan, the latter apologizing for showing up to the scene late and both apologizing for not being there to prevent it from happening.

“I’m fine, I’m honestly just glad he tried to do this to me and not someone else who was here along without amazing friends to stop him. That piece of shit deserves to rot, I can’t help but think about how he probably has done this before and a woman out there went through that” With a shake of your head you felt Hanse burrow his head further into your shoulder.

“Lets get you home and cleaned up, there’s no way were letting you stay anywhere but at out apartment” Hanse said as your best friends pulled back and you swore you saw him rub at a tear in his eyes. Byungchan nodded in agreement at you staying over and you shook your head “I’ll stay but Byunnie I need you to continue to spend time with Emi tonight, I don’t want you leaving her to go take care of me. You deserve to be happy” Your heart clenched a little as he shook his head no but as you steeled your gaze and hit his shoulder telling him to get his girl he finally nodded knowing you wouldn’t stay at the apartment if he didn’t comply with your wishes. 

Emi had been standing in the crowd watching as everything happened, worry over the situation causing her face to frown. Seeing Byungchan pull you in for a hug she walked forward towards your bodies wanting to express her concern for you as well but she didn’t know how to word it. “y/n i..if you want to talk i’m here. I know we don’t really know each other but I saw what happened and I’m so sorry..” With her head downturned towards her pale yellow sneaker you placed your hand on her shoulder causing her to look up at you as you felt the genuine concern in her voice. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing really happened and you don’t need to be sorry. I appreciate your offer but i think tonight i’m just going to go back and stay with Hanse. The night is still young! So enjoy time with Byungchan here okay?” you smiled and she nodded pulling you in for a slight hug which surprised you. 

Pulling back, her and Byungchan walked you and Hanse to the front door. As you pulled the door open your body was encircled by a pair of arms you immediately recognized as Haleys. “What happened?! I was in the bathroom talking my roommate on how to work our new coffee pot and when I came back down I heard everyone talking about how Liam and Sejun were fighting and how you were in the middle and that Hanse had you in a chokehold!!” Laughing overtook your body at the second part and the seriousness in her voice, causing Haley to look at you like you were insane.

“Omg your cheek is swollen, y/n you have blood on the side of your lip! what the fuck?!” Pulling her arms away from you you shook your head. “I’ll tell you tomorrow okay? I just want to get out of here.”

“I’ll come with, I don’t want you alone” Leaning in to hug your friend you shook your head. “I won’t be alone, Hanse will be with me and no he didn’t have me in a chokehold. Please just stay and have fun okay? Chan is here and Byunnie is staying too. I’ll call you tomorrow” With a dejected look on her bronzed face, Haley nodded knowing how stubborn you were. With an I love you leaving her lips you bid your gorgeous friend goodbye and followed Hanse to his car.

Stepping out of the bathroom in one of Hanses plain white cotton crewneck t shirts and a too big pair of navy blue basketball shorts that you tied and folded over to fit properly, you headed to the couch that Hanse was already occupying in his pajamas.

Sitting next to him you let his left arm wrap around your shoulder and he browsed the Netflix  comedy movies with the remote in his right hand. “Thank you” was all you uttered as he landed on 50 first dates knowing it would make you both smile. “I love you, don’t thank me. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with you earlier then this would have all never happened” Biting at his lip ring you knew your best friend was upset with himself and you shook your head adamantly. “Hanse, stop. You stopped Liam and were there for me when I couldn’t see what was happening. Thats all that matters” Pulling the blanket over your legs you saw him softly nod as his inky black hair bobbed slightly.

“Sese, you need to wake up and get in bed” your hands had been planted on Hanses shoulder, lightly shaking him. The movie had finished and he was snoring loudly with his neck bent slightly backwards propping him at what looked like an uncomfortable angle against the back of the couch.

“He had…co…cocococonut boobs on” Hanse mumbled about the movie in his sleep ridden state as you changed tactics, shaking him harder and flicking an ice cube at his forehead. With a jolt from the cold cube being flung against his warm forehead he sat up and opened his eyes to you standing in front of him with a glass of water in your left hand and your right settled on his shoulder.

“Why’s you do that? Sooooo cold” Pulling the blanket up to his shoulder he shivered exaggeratedly which earned a smile from you and a roll of your eyes. “I did what I had to do to wake you up so you could get to bed. Your ass was snoring hella loud and I think I see drool.” 

Wiping at his mouth your best friend stood up, stretches his limbs as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulder and let out a loud yawn. Hugging you goodnight he headed to his bedroom and left you alone in the dim living room.

Scrolling though netflix you settled back against the couch cushions and clicked on the first episode of gossip girl to occupy your mind while you scrolled through instagram. Pictures of Byungchan with Emi loaded on his page and you softly sighed. You truly wanted him to be happy but it still stung and you knew it would for a little while longer.

Your thumb was scrolling upward as you mindlessly checked out posts from random people you followed when the sound of the front door being opened was heard. You knew it couldn’t have been Byungchan as he had just posted a picture of him and Emi on a couch that you assumed was Emi’s, their bodies entangled in an innocent looking cuddle. Preparing yourself for Sejun and one of his conquests to pass your form on the couch and moan the night away, you sighed deeply.

The sound of the fridge being opened was heard followed by the clinking of a glass against the countertop. Furrowing your brows you waited for the voice of a woman or possible giggle but the only sound you could hear was that of water filling a glass.

Your curiosity was piqued (by that you meant ‘your ass was nosy’) Standing up you grabbed your empty glass (so it looked like you had a reason for going to the kitchen) and walked your way to the kitchen.

Standing against the counter next to the fridge with a glass in his left hand and the pitcher of purified water in his right hand stood Sejun, his gaze snapping up towards your form as you entered.

You hadn’t gotten to thank him for doing what he did earlier and as you took in his slightly bruising cheek, his bottom lip that had been swollen and his split eyebrow that had already started healing your eyes went wide. You had seen the fight but hadn’t gotten a really good look at the grey haired mans face and the damage that Liam had done. 

“I..thank you, I’m sorry” you mumbled softly as you stepped closer to the sink and placed your glass inside of the metal basin. “Why are you apologizing? You weren’t the one who hit me.” Your jaw clenched and you turned your body to face him. “You were hit because of ME! so let me apologize. If you hadn’t gotten involved you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Shaking his head he lightly laughed and sent you a dazzling dimpled smile. “I’m fine, I got into the fight on my own and I would do it again. I don’t like men who think it’s okay to violently lay a hand on women, even more so when that woman is one of my friends.” Your eyebrows shot up at his last statement. You hated half of his ‘sexcapades’ but him as a person hadn’t really don’t anything to make you fully hate him now that you thought about it. Sure he got on your nerves and had no tact, making you want to sometimes while that smirk he always donned off of his face. But you didn’t fully hate him. Friend was a bit of a stretch for you but frenemy you could maybe get behind.

“I don’t know if I would consider us friends. Maybe frenemies? or acquaintances?” You smirked and his upper lip curled up, his mouth soon resembling yours. “Fine frenemy world, makes me sound cooler anyways. Also, stop looking at me like I got the beatdown of my life, I literally didn’t even get hit that hard and Liam is worse off. I’ve been hit a-lot harder and my eyebrow is already healing. So stop worrying you pretty little head.” Huffing out a breath of air you turned to grab a wash cloth as he gestured to his eyebrow when he talked about it and as he finished what he was saying you dampened the cloth with cold water and maybe your way to stand in front of his still leaning form.

You had to admit from this close up he was significantly taller than you were. Clutching the cloth in your right hand you brought it up to his eyebrow and lightly patted in soft motions not wanting to rub and disrupt the scabbing wound. 

Sejun watched your face as you worked on his eyebrow. “y/n you don’t have t-“ Your free hand came up to seal his mouth shut with your palm and you instantly regretted the action but didn’t want to pull away and show him how flustered you were by the press of his plump lips against the palm of your hand and his woodsy scent mixed with smelt like cashmere that invaded your senses as you inhaled.

Dabbing the still damp cloth against his eyebrow you kept your eyes on the hairs of his brow not wanting to look him in the eye. When the crusty rust colored blood had been fully cleaned from the closing wound you flipped the cloth around to a clean side and pressed it softly against the soft bruising of pink and red on his cheek to hopefully help the swelling subside so it hopefully wouldn’t turn into a nastier shade of deep purple and green in the morning.

“I’m surprised a woman isn’t clinging to your body right now” You joked trying to lighten the mood. “A woman is with me right now, I wouldn’t say she’s clinging but I do have one in front of me.” you felt his lips mumble against your palm and you quickly retracted your hand that you had forgotten was still there. Gulping hard you focused your attention to his cheek. 

“I mean a hot chick” You tried to once against joke. A larger hand wrapped itself delicately around your wrist that held the damp towel and your gaze snapped up to meet Sejun’s grey eyes. “You are a ‘hot’ chick.”

“I..I meant like a hookup. I’m sure you had your pick of women at the party tonight..So I just surprised one isn’t with you right now…haha..maybe you already had your fill at the party, hopefully not in the bathroom cause that’s just unsanitary an-“ Sejuns free hand clamped itself over your mouth preventing your ramble of going on any longer.

“While I have hooked up in a bathroom at a party in the VTN house,” Cocking his eyebrow at your face "don’t judge me it’s the cleanest frat bathroom I’ve ever seen. I didn’t hook up at the party, I actually went upstairs with Seungwoo and played a few rounds of Fifa on his ps4. We both weren’t really in the partying mood anymore and he wanted to get started on typing out his message on Liam’s behavior and what went down tonight. Woo also wanted to make sure I didn’t ‘do anything stupid’ as he put it. Like go after Liam, as tempting as that was.”

You really don’t know what compelled you to do do what you did next. You couldn’t blame it on the alcohol you had consumed earlier as you were stone cold sober now. But something about the way his face contorted as he talked about Liam mixed with his gaze roving your slightly parted lips when he moved his palm away just made you feel a familiar tingling in your belly.

Surging forward, Sejun had just barely finished his sentence when you captured his lips in your own. A few seconds passed before you realized your face was inches from Sejuns and your lips were pressed against his. Pulling back rapidly, your eyes widened into saucers and you prepared your escape to Hanses room to hide from the man in front of you and to pretend you hadn’t just done what you did.

Before you could turn and side step away, Sejun gripped the side of your face in one of his large palms and pulled your face towards him. Looking from your eyes down to your lips you felt the heat in his gaze as he planted his mouth down onto yours.

You really didn’t know why but you found yourself reciprocating the kiss. Moving your lips against his, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as the damp cloth fell to the ground in a soft thud and you parted your lips for him as he flicked his tongue against the seam of your lips. Sejun’s free hand went to the small of your back and pressed your bodies together as he slipped his tongue into the entrance to your mouth.

Tongues fighting for dominance, you felt the kiss start to shift into a searing want that had you gripping his hair for purchase earning a low groan tumbling from his lips. Sinking his teeth into your bottom lip, his hand that had been on your cheek moved down to clutch the side of your neck.

Trailing a hand down from his neck, your nails lightly scratched against the top of his wide back under his leather jacket and shirt he had on. Fingers pressed into your lower back as his lips moved down to trail over your jaw making you tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck that he was starting to ghost his plump lips against.

You could feel the coldness of his rings against the side of your neck as his hand remained there while he kissed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You couldn’t help the soft whine that escaped your lips as his lips attached themselves over your skin, sucking in harshly causing a tingle to make its way up our spine.

Sejun let out a low groan at the whine that made its way out of your lips. Sliding both of his hands over your hips, he flipped you both around and pressed your body against the counter.

Lips attaching themselves back onto your neck, he continued to suck on different spots careful not to leave any marks. Your hand made its way down and pulled at the hem of his shirt. Slipping your fingers under the jersey material, you grazed the tips of your fingernails against his lower abs causing Sejun to pull away from the juncture of your neck.

You took in his heated gaze and kiss-swollen lips and you had to admit this man was fucking sexy. Pulling your hand from under his shirt he held it in his grip. “Y/n if you want to keep going i’m more than willing to continue, but if you want to stop let me know now before we go any further. You wen’t through something traumatic earlier and I need to make sure you not only know what you’re doing but you want to do this.” At the mention of the word trauma, his finger brushed over the slight bruising on your cheek.

You knew you should’ve stopped but you needed him and his asking of permission just solidified the fact that you weren’t making a bad decision when you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in response.

With a kiss that was increasing in fervor, Sejuns hand that wasn’t clamped over the side of your neck gripped one of your wrists and led both of your bodies towards where you knew to be his room. Lips never leaving yours even when you both tumbled through his now open door.

Hooking a foot behind him, Sejun lightly kicked his door closed careful not to make it slam. Large hands made their way under the backs of your thighs as you were hauled up and lightly tossed onto a soft bed while the larger man stood in front of the bed pulling his jacket off of his wide shoulders. 

You tried your best to suppress the sound that threatened to leave your throat with a bite to you bottom lip as his fingers slipped under his t-shirt and pulled it off of his sculpted frame. Deft fingers slipped under his belt loop as he successfully loosened the prongs. 

Sejuns eyes never left yours as he undressed himself. Your eyes were filled with lust and your red swollen lips that your teeth hand pressed against caused his growing bulge to twitch slightly. You looked like sex and he hadn’t even gotten started, it excited him for how you must look with that post sex haze. 

Climbing his body on top of yours, a plump set of lips attached themselves to your neck once again and you arched your back as his fingers slipped under the material of Hanses loose shirt. 

Fingers making their way up your abdomen towards your chest and splaying themselves between your breasts felt hot against your skin. Sitting up slightly, Sejun pulled his lips from your skin. A look asking for permission graced his features as his fingers made their way back to the bottom hem of the shirt and pulled up a tad. A nod of your head was all he needed before he pulled the cotton fabric over your head and tossed it somewhere in the dark room that was only illuminated by the city lights through his semi sheer curtains.

The cold air that greeted your skin felt like ice as his fingers plucked against the hook of your bra causing the straps to sag over your shoulders as the cups no longer sat like a second skin against your breasts. 

You hadn’t even gotten to feel embarrassed before his lips attached themselves to your right nipple that had hardened from a mixture of cold air and arousal. Fingers reached towards his head as you then tugged the strands between them.

A low growl grumbled from his throat as his teeth grazed over the hardened bud and you felt your body twitch at the contact. Fingers pinched at your bud that hadn’t been between Sejuns lips and you whined at the sensation.

You could feel his hardened member against your thigh as he switched nipples, a suction like sound leaving his lips as he sucked in a harsh motion. His unoccupied hand trailed its way down to the bottoms you had on and he played with the waistband by softly snapping it against your skin causing you to pull harshly on his locks. “Tease”. Chuckling at your name calling, Sejun smirked against your chest as he popped your nipple out of his mouth and flicked his tongue over the reddening nub.

Sejuns fingers moved under the waistband and over the fabric of your wet panties and you arched into the press of his fingertips. “Someones wet”, rolling your eyes as his comment you huffed out a breath of air and before you could mumble a response, he pressed the pads of his fingers hard against your hardened nub and lightly shook them in a left to right motion.

Pulling his fingers from your bottoms, he raised your knees upwards and tugged the material of your shorts and panties down your legs. Snapping your thighs shut you shivered as the air blown from his fan landed on your wet core.

Your legs were immediately pulled apart by your ankles “I need them open babygirl”. Sejun said with a tsk and the arousal pooling in your lower belly was almost embarrassing by the simple words.

A finger trailed around your weeping hole gathering the wetness on the pad as you gasped as Sejun brought it up to his mouth. His lips puckering around the finger as his eyes closed and a low moan could be heard. Holy fuck that’s hot, you were now full on ogling him as he popped the appendage out of his mouth and trailed his tongue along the seam of his lips. Opening his eyes, his lips quirked into a smirk as he took in your expression.

The finger that had been sucked clean was brought back to your nether region. With a squelch, the long index finger slid into your entrance and you hummed at the needed intrusion. A few pumps were made before a second finger was added, your walls tightening around the appendages. 

“Need to get you nice and ready” Sejun murmured as he watched his fingers go in and out of your wet hole. Your eyes snapped shut as he curled the tips of his finger upwards in a come hither motion. The pads of his fingers rubbed against the spongey flesh of your g-spot and you gripped at the pillow that had been under your head.

Moving his fingers in semi circle motions to stretch you out further, Sejun pressed his thumb lightly against your clit as you got used to the stretching intrusion. 

Your eyes snapped open as you felt a glob of wetness land on your pussy and the sight of Sejun with his lips puckered as he sat up watching his fingers work themselves in and out of your heat caused you to clench hard. Your mind was fighting with wether it was nasty or unbelievable hot how his split trailed once again from between his lips and landed on your pussy. The look in his eyes as he watched it slither down your clit over his fingers and mixing with your arousal at the crack between your ass and the bed made up your mind that it was one of the hottest thing you’ve experienced. 

You could feel the slight widening of your hole as his fingers splayed open slightly inside of you before another finger was added. It was an extremely tight fit but the slight sting hurt oh so good as he slowly pushed into your entrance with all three fingers. “Tell me if it hurts okay?” His voice was oddly soft as he asked but it comforted you.

You widened your legs as he pumped his fingers at a nice and slow pace making sure you keep you comfortable but still stretching you out. The soft thrumming of his thumb over your clit added to the pleasure you were feeling.

Sejuns fingers formed a cone shape inside of you as he pumped in at a faster pace after he felt your walls starting to relax. Sejuns other hand splayed over your left thigh as he kept your legs open. 

The finger on your clit started to move in tight circles and your back arched as you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning. Your hand was pulled away almost immediately and your eyes met the darkening ones of the man pleasuring you. “Ah ah, no trying to conceal your sounds. Let me hear how you feel or I’ll stop. Got it?” You really wanted to roll your eyes and mumble a sarcastic remark but stern look in his eyes as he cocked a brow and curled his finger upwards caused you to nod furiously “Yes, yes jeez! Just fuck! Don’t stop.” 

Your eyes rolled back as he spat on your pussy again and used his thumb to spread the wetness over your clit. A drawn out moan left your lips as he thrusted his fingers in and out of your tight hole at a faster pace and matched his circling thumb to the rhythm.

It was becoming all too much and as you trailed your eyes down his frame to his hips now bucking against your thigh, his hardened bulge rubbing against your flesh, your body tightened and spasmed every time his fingers curved against your g-spot. “Ahh,I.. I…m going to..c..c….cum..please don’t..stop”.

“I didn’t quite catch that” Sejun slowed his pace and smirked devilishly. “Fun..fuck you! I said I’m..gonna cum!” The same stern look returned to his face as he stopped completely and slipped his fingers from your spasming core causing you to thrash your head side to side as you pleaded with him. “I’m..sorry..please don’t stop…I need to cum..please…please…fuck please.” With a smack to your pussy a grunt left his lips as he thrust his fingers back into your entrance, your back arching at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s better princess.” Sejuns fingers worked themselves in and out of you at a fast pace and he began circling hi thumb over your clit once again causing your body to convulse at the stimulation. “Fuck…shit…shit! I need.. cum…need to cum!” You moaned out as your eyebrows furrowed and shallow breathes of air puffed from your lips. “You want to cum babygirl?”

A series of ‘Yes’ left your lips and Sejun curled his fingers upwards against the spongey flesh. With a harsh press of his thumb against your clit you felt your eyes roll back as your eyelids closed over your eyes and your thighs began to shake. 

A hard grip on your chin forced your eyes open and Sejun was suddenly inches from your face as he squished your cheeks between his fingers as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at an intense pace. “Open your eyes and look at me when you cum! I better not have to tell you again!” Hot breath fanned against your face as you nodded as much as you could in his hold. 

A series of ‘Fucks’ could be heard in the room as your walls tightened around his fingers and the familiar snapping sensation filled your lower abdomen as your orgasm approached. The fluttered of your walls squished his fingers but Sejun wouldn’t have it any other way. The lust ridden gaze Sejun had in his eyes as you came apart with his fingers inside of you was all that you could see. A buzzing filled your ears and you felt warmth spread throughout your body as you came.

Your knees knocked together as they shook and the feeling of overstimulation against your clit became too much as you begged him to stop. It wasn’t until tears pricked at your eyes that he pulled his hand from your core and popped each finger inside of his mouth, making sure to lick them clean.

With a cock of his head, Sejun sat up. “You taste like ripe strawberries, pineapple and something heady with a hint of salt.” A look of shock riddled your features and you couldn’t help the laugh that threatened to fall from your lips. “Are you a pussy juice connoisseur or what?” You fully expected Sejun to scold you or laugh with you but his face was completely serious. “You could say that.”

“I’m saying you taste good.” A shake of your head as you giggled caused him to slightly pout. “I know what you’re saying. Just an odd way of putting it”

The feeling of Sejuns bulge against your thigh caused you to stop your laughing. Even with his pants on, he felt thick and heavy against your flesh and despite the intense orgasm you had just had you needed more, you wanted to feel him inside of you.

Sitting upwards on your knees, you placed your palms flat against his bare chest and maneuvered you both until he was sitting against the soft pillows near the headboard and you were straddling him. With a harsh press of your hands he was sent into a laying position, hovering your body over his face a sinful smirk graced your lips. “You called me a princess earlier.” A cock of your eyebrow was made as you nuzzled your lips against the shell of his ear. “I’m anything BUT a princess.” Sejun could’t respond as your hand had made it’s way down his body while you spoke and when the last words left your lips you harshly palmed his length.

A grin spread over his plump lips and your wrist was suddenly gripped into a strong hold. With a determined gaze you slid your other hand down his body and popped the button of his incredibly tight pants. Surging forward you attached your lips to his neck and nibbled against the soft flesh. The smell of cologne and musk invading your senses as you lapped at his sweat slick skin. 

Sliding your hand under the waistband of his briefs, your eyes bulged slightly at his size that laid heavily against your palm. Drool pooled inside of your mouth as you gulped and a deep chuckle resounded in your ears. “I told you I needed to stretch you out. Now. you’ve had your fun being on top but its time I fuck you the way you need to be fucked.” A hand weaved through your hair and pulled your face to his as your bottom lip was tugged between teeth. A wet pop was heard as the flesh smacked against your teeth and arms encircled you before turning you both around so that Sejun was seated on top of you once again.

The jingling of zippers and fabric against skin was heard as Sejun tossed his pants somewhere on the clothing littered floor. “I was only on top for like 5 minu- ungghf” Sejuns hard cock bumped against your clit and you swore you drooled as the thick head slid along your core. The drag of his hard cock felt intoxicating but you needed more, you needed to be filled.

“Fuck me already!” you growled out and Sejun tsk’d. “Demanding won’t get you anywhere sweetheart.” A slight push of his thick cock head was made against your weeping hole and you reached out to tug harshly on his thick locks. “Sejun! I’m not fuckin around! Now fuck man, just ugh just fuck me.” A harsh slap was delivered to your pussy and you swore at the contact. 

“Ask nicely y/n, or my cock won’t fill you up.” It was a low warning but you ceased your brattiness if it meant getting to finally be filled. “Fine! Please, I need to be fucked. Please just film up alrea-“ You were cut off by the sliding of his cock head into your entrance, Fuck, he was just a few inches in but it was already a stretch.

Fingers brushed against the soft skin of your abdomen as he slid inside slowly before ceasing any movement. “Is this okay?” It was a simple question but the juxtaposition from his stern nature a few minutes prior had momentarily shocked you. Clearing your throat “Yeah, I can take it” You weren’t lying, sure it was a stretch and you could feel the sting but it wasn’t anything uncomfortable.

Placing his hands on either side of your shoulders, Sejun leaned forward slowly sliding all the way in until his blunt head felt like it bumped your cervix and your fingers curled into the sheets at the incredibly tight fit. “Fuck y/n, so fuckin tight.” Sejuns head was thrown back and his long neck was on full display above you. 

Arching upwards, your lips attached themselves onto the juncture of his neck and he growled out at the feeling as your lips worked over his flesh. Fingers curling into his silky hair  and over his shoulder you couldn’t say you’ve ever felt so full in your life. 

A sharp snap of his hips was felt before he leaned backwards on his haunches and snapped forwards once again. The way your hole sucked his cock in was an intoxicating sight and Sejun groaned at the squelching noises your wet pussy made. 

A nice rhythm was started as his thrusts were deliberately timed and every snap of his hips meant a flood of sensations for you. He filled you up and every slide of his cock was felt against your ridges as he snugly bottomed out inside of you. “Harder” The pace was great but you knew he could do much more and you wanted to feel everything he could give you.

An eyebrow quirked at your demand and Sejun smirked “Harder? Princess” The last word was punctuated bu a particularly hard thrust and you tugged harshly against his scalp. “Don’t. Call me. Princess” With each word you tugged at the strands and he growled at the sensation, taking your wrist between his fingers before slamming both of your wrists against the bed on either side of your head.

“Y/n you’re being bad.” The words tumbled from his lips in a low growl and your eyelids fluttered closed at the way it made you feel. With your wrists in his grip, he snapped his hips harshly as his cock filled you up nice and deep. 

A harsher pace was set and each drag of his cock set your insides alight with new sensation, the way he leaned over you caused his pubic bone to drag over your clit with each thrust. Wrapping your legs around his lower back, your hips met Sejuns for every harsh thrust and pull.

Whatever stinging you had previously felt was replaced with nothing but pleasure as he went faster with every pump of his member. “More” Your legs were suddenly pulled up by your knees until your ankles were hovering in the air by your head. You felt like a pretzel and the stretch on your body hurt but the way Sejun managed to somehow get deeper inside of your tight cunt made it worth it. You were practically bent in half as his large palms pressed down on the flesh in the middle of the backs of your knees and ass.

“That all you got Sej..Sejunniee” Your harsh breaths made you stutter but you managed to still pull your face into a mocking look as the saccharine tone seeped from your lips. A sudden harsh smack against the underside of your ass cheek sounded through the room and the stinging flesh caused your neck to arch back into the pillows. “Be careful what you wish for Y/n.”

Another smack was delivered, this time to your ass cheek before Sejun bottomed out inside of you. Knees dipping into the bed, Sejun leaned forward with his palms on he backs of your legs as he set a brutal series of thrusts. The sensation of thick cock dragging against your walls until just the tip was inside before slamming back into your core was drool worthy.

Low groans left his lips and you dug your nails into his shoulder as you whined, begging for more. More of what? you didn’t quite know but more seemed to be the only word you could utter as his flesh dragged against yours. 

Snapping your eyes open, the sound of the front door closing rather harshly was heard and you knew it had to have been a clumsy Byungchan. Fear set into your features and Sejun placed a finger over your lips. “It’s okay, Byungchan won’t come in, he most likely thinks I’m with a girl anyways. Relax Y/n.” The words were said in a soft whisper against your ear and while you knew they were the truth you still feared being caught. But something in the way Sejun’s cock bumped against your g-spot as he thrust and the way you were still feeling that stinging heartache of your one sided crush being happy with his crush made you nod.

“You can use me right now to help get over how you feel about Chan and Emi if you want.” The statement surprised you but you trailed your nails down his back as he delivered a hard thrust. “Fuck me” It wasn’t a harsh demand, more of a plea whispered into his ear. Pulling back from your ear, Sejun nodded in understanding.

A sharp move of his hips delivered a song thrust that you swore you could feel against your cervix and you cried out. “Louder princess.” Sejun smirked knowing the pet name would get to you but in an almost sick way you relished in the thought of Byungchan possibly hearing you. There’s no way he would know it’s you as you most likely sounded mumbled and different between the layers of walls separating Sejuns room from his own but it’s like part of you wanted to be like “this is what you’re missing” even though he hadn’t even been aware of your affections.

A loud whine left your lips as Sejun fucked himself into you and you scratched your nails down his back. You had earlier seen the faded pink marks on his back and while you both were careful not to leave marks with mouths in an unspoken rule you figured your nails on his back would be fine as he already had some from his plethora on conquests. 

“Fuck how are you still so tight!” Sejun moaned out and a gush of arousal was felt between your legs at his normally softer voice being so deep and assertive. “Maybe you aren’t going hard enough” You barked in respond and the smirk that had made its way onto your lips was replaced with a small ‘o’ as Sejun snapped a hand up your body to clamp around the curvature of your neck. His grip wasn’t hard enough to fully choke you but the feeling of less air flow caused a tingling to be set throughout your body.

Fast thrusts caused the room to sound in skin slapping and wet squelches. The headboard banging against the wall as he drove his hips against yours cause your body you rattle. “Fuck Sejun!”

“Yeah? Is that hard enough for you? Or do you want more. Know what, i’m not giving you a choice, you’re getting more.” Large palms pulled your ass tightly against him and his balls slapped against your skin. The hand that was around your neck tightened its hold every few seconds before releasing causing a rush of air to fill your head. The hand that had pulled your ass up now lay flat against your abdomen pushing your body down onto the bed. 

Your cervix was being battered by his hard cock head and a trail of drool leaked from the side of your mouth as you were being fucked ‘stupid’ “Shit!shit! I’m..cu..cu..gonna..cum” You stuttered as you felt your walls fluttering around his hard cock.

A harsh slap was delivered to your clit as Sejun spit a thick globule onto your cunt and you lost it, the pure dirtiness from the action caused your abdomen to clench and lust clouded your vision. “FUCK! Se…sej….omg..omg I’m…fuck yes!” Your legs began to shake as Sejun pressed his thumb against the hollow of your throat and your eyes struggled to stay open from the extract you were being thrown in but you couldn’t risk closing them and him stopping his actions as he had said he would earlier.

“Cum in..inside, I’m on the pill” You mumbled out feeling his cock twitch inside of you. The thought of a condom had slipped both of your minds earlier in the night and you knew you’d kick yourself about it later, for now you needed to cum.

“Fuck y/- babygirl! Cum all over my cock!” Your name almost slipped from his lips but Sejun effectively covered it up in case either of your friends had been awake. A coil felt like it had snapped and a loud growl left Sejuns lips as you clenched hard around his cock. “Oh my!omg! FUCK I..fuck. I’m cumming.” A flood of arousal gushed from your core as your body shook and your toes curled.

“Fuck yeah! Soak my cock! Sejun fucked his cock into you before halting suddenly. A loud moan escaped his throat as ropes of cum painted your inner walls with his seed. Your orgasm continued as he filled you to the brim and you cried out as his hand left your neck in favor of filling your mouth with his thick thumb. You sucked on the appendage as your body shook in overstimulation. 

With a few shallow thrusts of his cock, Sejun’s could feel the last spurts of milky white leave his member. Softly pulling himself from your warm cavern, Sejun watched as a flood of white leaked from your core and he couldn’t help the low groan leave his lips at the mess you had made. The sheets were soaked from you squirting and the pool of cum that sat along the seam of your ass and the bed was enough to cause his softening cock to twitch alive again. 

Taking in your fucked out state, Sejun willed himself to calm down as he really didn’t think you could take another round right now. 

Sitting up with a huff leaving your lip your eyes widened as you took in the sight between your splayed out legs. “Holy..fuck.” Sejun who was seated in front of your legs smirked “That was so fucking hot.” With a shake of your head you looked at him incredulously. You had only squirted twice prior and both were from a long masturbation session where you overstimulated yourself with your favorite vibrator after a month of no cumming as a stupid self challenge. 

Sejun pulled you up to a standing position before propping you onto his desk chair. “I’m just gonna change the sheets real quick.” Your legs felt like jelly but you knew you couldn’t stay in his room. His conquests rarely stayed the night, you knew that and you didn’t trust yourself to wake up and leave his bed before your friends awoke from their own slumber so you did the only thing that made sense. You stood up on your own as he finished changing the sheets and smoothed his palm over his comforter that had been in a heap on the floor during your ‘activities’. Finding your panties on the floor with Hanses bottoms your nose scrunched at the damp materiel. 

Sejun’s eyes met you form as you debated on whether to wear the shorts with or sans panties. The sound of a drawer being opened was heard and a pair of briefs and a wet wipe were being held out towards you. “Here, I don’t think soaking panties are comfortable to wear and I know you probably don’t want to wear Hanses shorts without anything under.”

“Thank you.” After cleaning yourself up you threw the fabric away in the waste bin by his desk. The fabric of the briefs was quite soft, Why are mens underwear so fucking comfortable?. With a snap of your bra you then pulled the loose cotton shirt over your form despite your now aching muscles. 

“I know you’re going to go sleep on the couch so nobody gets suspicious but know I couldn’t kick you out from my room in the middle of the night. That’d make me a shitty friend and I fancy myself not only a good fuck but a gentleman of sorts” Sejun smiled that genuine smile that accentuates his deep set dimples, your head shook side to side at how unfair it was that he looked like some sort of deity after that sex session and you most likely looked a mess.

“Thanks..I appreciate that haha.” You awkwardly laughed and Sejun shook his head. “Hey don’t be embarrassed or anything. We fucked and we can either talk about it or not talk about it whatever you want.” You really did appreciate how he was trying to make things less awkward as he sat on his bed in his clean briefs but you couldn’t talk about it right now. Too many thoughts were swirling in your brain and all you wanted to do was pass out on the couch you knew all too well. 

With a fake yawn escaping your lips you waved at him before making your way to his door. “I’m actually super tired so I’m just going to head to bed.” Checking to make sure the coast was clear you slipped from his room and softly reciprocated the goodnight he called out.

The kitchen light had still been on from earlier and you noticed Byungchans shoes strewn across the floor and accompanied with how loud he had been entering the shared apartment you could bet he was probably quite tipsy which you thanked God for as drunk Byungchan was less likely to miss your supposed sleeping form on the couch.

A quick trip to the restroom, a flick of the kitchen lights and you were finally settled on the couch cushions with a soft blanket curled around your body. Pushing your questioning thoughts and oddly enough lack of regret to the back of your brain, you closed your eyes and let your now aching muscles lead you into a hopefully deep sleep. 

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Whether you found this smut cringe worthy or actually not THAAAT bad, I appreciate you for reading this chapter and sticking with me <3

#sejun x reader #sejun smut #lim sejun smut #victon smut #sejun scenarios #victon fic #e2l #victon x reader #Lim Sejun #sejun

[mrpenguinpants]

Andrius, Venti, and Dvalin: General HCs [+ unhinged Venti]

Oh no, not strange at all! I love seeing the art people have done on human Dvalin and Andrius. I’m not entirely sure if you wanted a Venti x Dvalin x Andrius pairing but I’m going to assume so. But just in case, I added a few points of all 4 of your hanging out. How my desk is positioned with my window, the sun is shining directly into my eyes so I have to type in this weird position unless I want my eyeballs to melt.

Also, if any of this is wrong just look away. This took forever because holy crap there is so much lore on these 3. Not sure what exactly you had in mind so I made some general/friendship HCs

Alright, today’s appreciations post is for maagdalen​​. Super lovely person with some lovely emotes. Oh and your english is really good btw^^ and ty for chatting with me 💕💕💕

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first. 

@hanniejji​​  @mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @twistedsunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​

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Andrius, Venti, and Dvalin: General HCs

Andrius

Andrius, also known as Lupus Boreas, was tasked with protecting the nation of Mondstadt under the request of Barbatos. He had a noble soul and mainly stays in the area of Wolvendom. He was strict, to the point, and never really partakes in whatever “foolish” activities Venti or Dvain get themselves into. But it’s all just a front because as soon as one of them get’s hurt or is in danger, his fangs and teeth are out. Even if it’s a cute hydro slime. Then he’ll take them by the scruff of their neck back to Wolvendom to get their wounds checked. On Venti it works, but with Dvalin’s dragon form. It’s amusing to see a pouting dragon getting dragged off by a wolf that wasn’t even double his size.

Not many Mondstadt citizen’s know but Andrius isn’t actually a wolf. He chooses to take the form of a wolf and should any of the wolves in Wolvendom be threaten, that’s the form he will appear in. But in truth, it was because Venti suggested it. If he was going to stay in Wolvendom and protect wolves then it made sense that his form would be the big bad wolf. Really Andrius just believes that Venti has a secret vendetta against cats and Andrius wouldn’t talk to Venti if he suggested that he take the form a dog.

There is a bit of discourse between Andrius and Venti due to Venti’s human-like appearance since Andrius views human society as a disappointment. Only accepting abandoned infants that have no where to go. But he does respect Barbatos and helped in his efforts to rebuild Mondstadt and protect it as one of the Four Winds.

While he doesn’t completely enjoy Venti’s extravagant personality he’s glad that Barbatos adopted the name and is living his life in freedom. Despite being the anemo archon, he chooses to live as Venti. Having fun in taverns and doing what he loves.

Venti

Venti always brings stories and sings for the two whenever he decides that it’s been too long since he’s seen his friends. He usually brings a bottle of wine even if he’s the only one that ever drinks - which is probably why he brings wine - which leads to Andrius scolding Venti to try and act civilized when he gets drunk and saying “No Dvalin, you cannot have some. The last time we let you drink you cried so much that Springvale still has a waterfall.”

It’s amusing to hear that after the war, the biggest problem Venti has right now is getting constantly ID checked. Dvalin takes this quite literally, since he still isn’t fully aware of taverns rules and regulations, that it takes both Venti and Andrius to hold him down before another Stormterror incident happens.

Venti has always been bold, never afraid to say anything, which was a trait that Dvalin and Andrius liked about the anemo archon. It was what made him the archon of freedom but sometimes Venti is a bit too bold and pretends to play fetch with Andrius wolf form. He is not amused. When he tries it with Dvalin, Dvalin will participate but he get’s confused and ends up just sitting beside Venti when the archon throws the stick. Which causes Venti to make a walk of shame to get the stick back.

When Venti acts as the Wind Archon it’s always a bit of whiplash when he talks in his philosophical state that it reminds Dvalin and Andrius that despite his childlike appearance and attitude, he was still the anemo archon. But it get quickly covered up when he says it’s time to switch back to Venti time.

It’s hard for them all to meet up in the present day. Dvalin stays in his domain while Andrius stays in Wolvendorm, all alone in their own domain. Venti prefers lively places than those quiet and solitude areas so he’s either in the City of Freedom or under the Windrise tree. But on occasions where he feels lonely he’ll swing by Dvalin’s lair and use the winds to carry their conversation to Andrius. Just so he isn’t left out.

If anyone asks where the ballads that Venti sings that are about a strict wolf and a nervous dragon, he’ll just say it was a passing tune he made up.

Dvalin

Dvalin, same as Andrius, lost his faith in humanity and the city of Mondstadt. He was released as his role as one of the four winds but continued to remain in Mondstadt. Similarly to Andrius he is distrustful around humans after being betrayed by them, chose to avoids human contact but he tries to adopt a more friendly side when Venti visits him.

Dvalin cares about Venti more and isn’t as standoffish in showing that he appreciates Venti compared to Andrius. Venti explained to him and showed him what freedom truly was he felt connected with someone for the first time. He did want to be understood and loved by the humans for who he was and what he wanted to protect. But that’s still a long road ahead.

He’s a curious but clumsy dragon. He’s pure of heart and steadfast in his goals which Venti is full-heartily cheering him on while Andrius disagrees but allows Dvalin to continue on this own path. Even if Andrius is on the other side of Mondstadt, he still tries to keep an eye out for Dvalin should the Abyss Order ever try and take his friend under their control.

However, due to how almost naïve the dragon is, he get’s into rather...interesting situations. While Andrius groans and Venti loses his absolute shit when Dvalin, still in his dragon form, lands and tries to observe the wolves. He only hides behind a thin tree that barely covers even 2% of his entire body and ends up scaring the wolves who run back to Andrius for safety. It takes a lot of consoling from Venti that the wolves didn’t like him, they were just scared and perhaps he should adopt a smaller form?

He’s still a bit sick from the aftermath of the Abyss Order and the poison of Durin so he can’t travel as far as he would like so Venti keeps him company. Telling him what the citizens of Mondstadt have been up to and playing music with his lyre.

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I love writing Venti, he’s so much fun. :) I say this but I live for Venti who hides behind this happy persona but is actually unhinged or deluded. I have many thoughts on this but I didn’t want to break the pace of the fic (plus this is getting pretty long anyways). So feel free to skip the rest of this if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m just spit balling right now.

But nervous and shy dragon Dvalin plus mother hen Andrius is canon. You cannot convince me otherwise.

This week has just turned into “what will we awaken today?” In other news, Lisa and Diluc. But it might be a bit late since this took some time to finish. In extra news, solo leveling just updated. Oh and jjk is (hopefully) getting a new episode tmr^^

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Barbatos

Andrius and Dvalin trust Venti to fulfill his archon duties should anything ever happen to Mondstadt. The same way Venti trusts the Four Winds will protect Mondstadt should anything dangerous arise. With the carefree nature of Venti making a sudden appearance after Barbatos’s year long nap, they both got a bit too comfortable with this happy-go-lucky version of their archon.

That is until Venti brings a fourth person into their trio. Someone who knew how to play the lyre and wished to fly and see the birds. Andrius and Dvalin share a quick look of anxious tension and it’s confirmed when Venti makes a small slip of the tongue and calls you by a certain boy’s name. They aren’t sure what to do or if Venti was starting to regress back into Barbatos and what that could mean for this innocent traveler.

“Barbatos defeated the previous ruler and left the city to rest because he didn’t want to become the same tyrant. But an archon is still an archon with responsibilities. Those responsibilities can be warped to the point that they believe they are helping and guiding their followers, but are actually trapping them in their cage. He is an archon that believes in freedom so his cage is just a bit bigger. Big enough that you can’t see the walls. Be careful traveler.”

Venti goes to greet you the next day you see him but his words seem to fade away when he approach's you. He asks if you’ve been talking to Andrius lately. You nod and ask how he knows. He says that you just spell like wolfhooks and that you shouldn’t worry about anything. 

The next day Andrius apologizes to you about his words and that he was mistaken. There was nothing to worry about and to trust Venti. You can see Dvalin a bit off to the side looking away nervously and a bit guilty.

Venti always makes sure that Andrius and Dvalin keep an eye on you, especially Dvalin when you’re in stormterror land. It was a pretty dangerous landscape to trek through. As for Andrius, he doesn’t want you to get hurt during your weekly practice fights. It wouldn’t do you any good if you got hurt and couldn’t explore this vast world with him.

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