#i just cant express how badly it fucks me up like. swallowing your own pain. the trauma. not mourning.

[cherrykamado]

i love tanjiro.

#u dont know how badly i love him. #a few days ago while rewatching kny my heart literally THROBBED #hes my husband the loml #i just want him to hold me forever and in fact he is holding m e #i adore him sm i will COMBUST #ill explode trulymy heart cant take somuch love istg #literally if i could choose a scene where my heart throbs so much for him is the very early ones in the series #where he is in the search for urokodaki #and how literally he put on his big brother role and went like 'i gotta move on. for nezuko.' made turning her back to human his north and #i just cant express how badly it fucks me up like. swallowing your own pain. the trauma. not mourning. #it really speaks a lot for tanjiro's resilience and how fucking strong his heart is. #yes he might cry a lot and be super sentimental — but also he's so humane. #i can't- i literally can't #i mean yes i go full simp mode but im not like 'aw hes kind hes big bro hes hot'. no. to me its way deeper than that #and that's why he is n he'll always be my number one. #stunned blown away for him. #and he's reading this as we speak and he's hugging me and crying to me.holdin him close forever to my heart. #my tanjiro is everything to me. #signed mrs kamado lol mwah<3 #tanjiro.💚 #loml.❣️💍

[demon-childe]

Win or Lose | Childe x F!Reader

relationship - Childe x F!Reader rating - E - this is... pretty filthy warnings - spanking, praise kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, vaginal sex, use of c*nt word count : 3.2k ao3 - here notes - this has literally just been known amongst me and my friends as the “childe spanking fic”.... so yup, enjoy

----

In one fell swoop, Childe’s successfully pinned you to the ground.

You had gotten distracted when he winked at you during your sparring session (cheap tactic – you think irritably) and then stumbled over your damn feet and before you knew it, he’d swept you to the ground. The laugh he’d let out sent a wave of irritation through you.

When you clamber onto your knees to try and get back up, he drops down next to you, a hand pressing firmly against your back and pressing your face down onto the ground beneath you. You let out a discontented noise, squirming and his other hand moves to your wrists, holding them together behind your back.

“H-hey! Lemme go,” you complain, wriggling. The position you’re in is certainly less than appropriate – face down, ass up - and you squirm uncomfortably.

“I must admit, you do look quite good like this,” Childe says, sounding far too pleased with himself. You can feel your face heat up and send a glare back at him. This isn’t the first time one of your sparring sessions has ended questionably, but the way he teases you still sparks a whirlwind of emotion in you.

“Oh, shut up,” you shoot back, half annoyed and half embarrassed.

Without warning, you’re met with a sharp stinging sensation blossoming across the swell of one ass cheek and you choke out a noise of surprise – he actually just spanked you. Molten heat comes to life in the pit of your gut, fast, too fast, and you grind your teeth irritably.

“Now, now, is that any way to talk to the winner of our little match?”

“You didn’t win-“

You’re interrupted by another slap, your voice breaking off in a shocked gasp. He laughs at you, actually laughs and you feel frustration bubbling in your chest. Squirming, you try to wiggle out of his grasp but he just tightens his grip on your wrists, clicking his tongue in disappointment.

“You could stand to take your loss a little more graciously.”

He spanks you again. The pain makes you arch away from him, your body attempting to curl inwards but then you arch back, pressing your face against the floor, tilting your hips back as your control wanes. Dammit.

“Oh, good girl,” Childe praises and you want to melt away, shame fluttering through you when his words send heat curling in your belly and between your thighs.

“Sadist,” you snarl, and he laughs again. You can feel him shift next to you and you see his shadow move into the corner of your vision. His hot breath fans across your neck and he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Masochist,” he counters and you huff in response, wriggling.

You yelp in response as a hand collides with your ass again, but this time his touch doesn’t relent. You feel his palm move in slow circles over your abused cheek and you can’t help but let out a small relieved noise, pushing back against the contact.

“Don’t you wanna be good for me?” He inquires and you chew on your cheek nervously, eyes flittering about. “No?”

You’re about to open your mouth to reply when he spanks you again and this time the noise that escapes you is neither shocked nor pained, but a soft whine.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you a nice little reward,” he singsongs, voice a tempting whisper in your ear. “Even though you lost. What do you say, huh?”

His hand slowly slides down the back of your thigh, then back up, fingers tracing a line inward, dangerously close to your center and you can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Nervously, you glance back at him and his blue eyes are trained intently on you, waiting for a response. When you give a shaky nod, he grins dangerously.

“Count,” Childe instructs you simply and before you can say anything, his hand meets your ass. You arch back at him and he grabs one abused cheek roughly before drawing back and spanking you yet again. You mumble. “Reward’s off the table if you don’t count.”

“One,” you say quietly. He does it again and a broken little noise escapes you. “Two.”

“Louder.”

“Two!”

Childe says nothing, but continues his punishment. With each smack, you feel need curl in your belly, your resolve wavering, voice tightening as the sting of the contact turns into something sharper, darker.

You whimper when he yanks your pants down your hips, shoving them to your knees. He takes your underwear with them, leaving your ass bare, and you feel the cool air against the heat of your core. Almost instinctively, you try to squeeze your thighs together to cover yourself and Childe responds to your actions with another slap.

“Should I leave bruises today, girlie?” He asks, almost absentmindedly, his gloved hand caressing and squeezing one abused cheek. A chuckle escapes him as you’re about to reply and you feel him slide a hand between your thighs, pushing them further apart. “Well, would you look at that?”

“You’re dripping,” Childe informs you before you feel a finger slide up your slit and he presses down on your clit a little too hard, earning a cry from you. A shudder overtakes you momentarily and you feel hot and cold in one fell swoop; lust clouds your mind and you can’t help but grind back against the contact. “Oh, look at you. So eager.”

“Childe – please.”

“I did say I would reward you, didn’t I?” He asks, soft but teasing and you whine when he stops touching you. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

He spanks you again, gloved hand colliding with the tender, abused flesh of your ass and you feel your cunt clench desperately around nothing and all you can think of is how badly you want.

“Ah!”

“Count again.”

You start over.

One.

Two.

Three.

Your head swims, sensation overwhelming you. With each strike, the ache inside you grows and at nine, the pain threatens to overtake your arousal and as if he knows, he pauses.

“One more.”

The last slap makes you cry out, teeth digging into your lower lip as you try and bite back tears. “T-ten.”

You hear Childe hum appreciatively and he skims his gloved fingers softly over your tender skin. You wince for a moment, then relax under his gentle touch.

“What a good girl,” he praises you and you can’t help the desperate little whimper that escapes you. “Are you ready for your reward?”

You nod as well as you can with your face pressed down into the floor and cast a needy look back at the Harbinger. He’s looking at you expectantly, still running one hand over your abused ass. As good as Childe is at hiding his feelings, you can see his pupils blown wide with lust, and it sends a wave of hunger through you.

“Please,” you say. “Please fuck me.”

“Fuck you?” Childe repeats, expression splitting into a dangerous little smirk, one brow arching high. “You already need it that bad, girlie?”

“Childe,” you plead, your voice needy and quiet. You’re not sure you’ve ever wanted someone to take you so badly before – shame is out the window and all you can focus on is how aroused you are and the ache between your thighs.

“Hmm,” he murmurs. “Who am I to deny such an obedient girl her reward?”

His grip on your wrists relents and you bring them forward to brace yourself against the ground, swallowing nervously. You can hear the jingle of his belt as he undoes it and you glance back at him. You watch hungrily as his cock springs free from the confines of his clothes and you can feel your face flush, mouth watering and you suck your lower lip into your mouth.

Childe moves between your calves, knocking one knee against your thighs to spread your legs further and you arch up at him eagerly.

His cock presses against you and a gasp escapes your lips, one hand flying to cover your mouth and trying to stifle the noise. You blink and he’s already grabbed your arm and yanked it back.

“Oh, no,” he says. “You asked for this. Now you’re going to let me hear how much you like it.”

“Childe, I - ah!”

He presses into you without warning, filling you in one thrust and you let out a broken moan. The stretch is divine agony – your walls fluttering around him as your body struggles to adjust – and your breath escapes you when he sheathes himself to the hilt. Childe curses and groans, hands finding your hips and gripping so tightly you can feel his nails digging into you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, easing his hips back and sliding out of you almost completely. You whimper and look back at him.

“Childe…” He grins at you in response.

He thrusts back into you without warning and you cry out, arching back at him as he fills you again. You’re woefully unprepared for the way his cock stretches you – body stuck somewhere between aching and craving – and you whimper pathetically.

There’s no hesitation before Childe sets a rhythm, fucking into you insistently and fully, every thrust leaving you gasping.

“So tight. Such a good girl for me,” he says, interrupting your thoughts and you tighten around him at the praise. He pauses mid-thrust when he feels it, a chuckle escaping his mouth and his hands glide from your hips up your back, fingers dancing over your spine.

“Fuck, d-don’t stop,” you stammer, pushing your hips back against his. “Please.”

“Go ahead,” Childe speaks. “Fuck that pretty little cunt on my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as you start eagerly start pressing backwards against him, using him for your own pleasure. A whimper escapes you, one hand flying between your thighs to attend to your neglected clit. He grunts, a hand coming back to the abused swell of your ass and Childe spanks you again.

“Ah!”

Your pace stutters, hips canting at an angle and your walls clench around his length. He lets out a breathless little laugh when you do and you can feel the blunt edges of his nails dig into your hips.

“I didn’t say stop, girlie.”

If your body wasn’t strung so tightly, maybe you’d be embarrassed, but the way Childe fills you up leaves you stupid – eyes rolling back, a hot shudder going down your spine when you fuck back at him desperately. Your adrenaline is still so high from the sparring session all you can focus on is the pleasure building in your gut and the slick sound of you fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck,” the harbinger groans and you can feel him start meeting your thrusts, the pressure of your orgasm mounting higher as he hits deeper, harder, and you whimper. “What a good little slut you are for me.”

He presses back into you insistently now, fingers gripping you so tightly his nails might break skin, and the stinging sensation is lost somewhere in the hazy swirl of heat that coils in your gut.

“Yes – yes – yes, fuck, please, Childe!”

“Maybe next time I’ll fuck you in Foul Legacy form,” Childe pants, keeping his pace steady. “Really fill you up like you want, huh?”

You can’t help but picture it – the visual of him looming over you in his armor, caging you in with ease, claws tearing at your clothes as he splits you in two – and you’re gone. Your climax crashes into you and all you can do is keen, a hand flying over your mouth as your cunt spasms around Childe’s length. Loudly, he laughs.

“Did you just come?” He asks. His voice is cruel, taunting, and you feel a wave of shame wash over you momentarily when he stops fucking you. “How cute. You’re so pathetic.”

Something tightens in your belly at his words and you sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You open your mouth to reply, mind still lost in a haze of pleasure and then he starts fucking you in earnest – giving you no respite after your orgasm. He slams his hips to yours repeatedly, filling you relentlessly and you can feel your limbs going weak from the intensity of sensation he’s subjecting you to.

He changes angles and suddenly you’re too full, thighs shaking with the effort of keeping yourself together. The way he pounds into you has your head so fuzzy you can’t focus on anything but how overwhelming the feeling of him fucking you is, a cry tearing from your lips.

“T-too much, too much, please, fuck!”

“Too much?” He parrots back. “Tell me to stop, then.”

There’s a momentary lull in the pace of his movement and when you whimper helplessly instead, walls fluttering around him, he laughs. It’s cruel and taunting and so good and you moan when he resumes fucking you.

“That’s what I thought. You like when it’s too much, huh?”

He’s close – you think, maybe, but you can’t think straight - but the desperate way he fucks into you and the breathlessness in his taunts certainly makes it seem like his control is unraveling.

“Can you come again for me, girlie?” Childe spurs you on, leaning forward and down against you before snaking a hand between you. Fingers find your swollen, sensitive clit and he draws slick circles around it, eliciting a wail from you at the feeling of sharp, unrelenting pleasure. It’s so much, too much, and your body can’t decide between pain or pleasure, eyes welling with tears as your hips cant back at his and you cry out.

“Please!”

“Fuck,” he groans. “One more for me. One more. Wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

His words push you further to the edge and you blankly register the feeling of his mouth against your shoulder, hot, heavy breaths tickling your skin and then he fucks harder into you, hips colliding with yours and before you know it, you’re crying and begging.

“Close! Ah - ha, close, close, please – Childe!”

Tears cascade down your cheeks and you sob as the tension tightens unbearably in your abdomen. You gasp for breath, your cunt tightening greedily around his dick.

“Come - come for me. Come on. Be a good girl and come for me,” he hisses in your ear, humid breath tickling across your neck. A noise rumbles from his lips, deep and desperate and then you feel his teeth press into your shoulder and you crumble.

Stars burst behind your eyes as Childe pulls another orgasm from you, the tight curl of tension in your belly suddenly releasing, and your mouth opens in a silent scream, nails digging into the ground. You hear him curse loudly from behind you, pace stuttering as he gives you one last, forceful thrust, and somewhere between the immobilizing pleasure, you think you can feel the way his cock throbs, emptying himself inside of you.

It takes a moment for your senses to return to you, heaving deep breaths in the aftershocks of your climax, and when Childe pulls out of you, a whimper escapes you, the feeling of emptiness causing you to tense and tighten around nothing.

“Shit,” you mumble quietly, face stained with tears as you try to hold yourself up on your arms. Behind you, the harbinger grunts and you feel him run a finger up your thigh and to your cunt.

“Look good filled with my cum,” he comments, a little breathless, a little tired, and then swipes a line up your slit, pushing some excess of his seed back into your abused hole. Your hips jerk and you hiss, reaching back to slap his hand away.

“Quit it,” you complain. “Sensitive.”

“Whoops,” he breathes with a small laugh before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and then he pulls your pants back up your thighs, his attempt at redressing you lazy, underwear sitting skewed across your hips.

Shakily, you push yourself up onto your aching knees, fixing your clothes and you glance back at him. Childe’s still flushed, the pink tinge across his cheeks just starting to taper off, fingers hastily redoing the buttons on his pants and he looks up at you once he does. He flops back onto his ass, propping himself up with one arm.

“C’mere,” he says and before you have a chance to respond, he tugs you into him, back to chest and his arms wrap around you. He nuzzles against your neck and you squirm. “You alright?”

You hum and nod despite the humid warmth radiating between the two of you. “What time is it?”

“Dunno.”

“Think we went past the time I reserved the training room for?” You ask, leaning to the side to look at him. He laughs and then shrugs.

“Maybe,” he says nonchalantly, but then his eyes narrow as he smirks. “Although I did preemptively dole out a punishment for you, after all.”

You hum and look away, sighing and glancing at your hands and the dirt under your nails. “Hm. And what makes you think I’ve learned my lesson?”

There’s a pause before you look at him again, trying to stop yourself from smirking at the surprise in his eyes, and then he laughs, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling closed. Once he stops you watch his mouth curl into a little smirk, head tilting to the side curiously.

“Is that so?” He inquires.

“Maybe.”

His response is to thread fingers through your hair and tug – just gently enough to pull you back and bare your neck to him – and a feeling flickers to life inside of you - warm, content, languid.

“Troublesome girl,” he murmurs, voice tinged with affection and you let a smile tug at your lips. His mouth presses to your cheek in a quick kiss before he lets go of your locks. “Lucky you look so damn good crying for me.”

A knock at the heavy double doors of the room stirs the both of you from your comfortable haze.

“Two minutes,” Childe calls loudly enough for whoever it is to hear before untangling himself from you. Tiredly, you lean on each other to stand and you can’t ignore the pleasant ache that radiates from between your thighs. Once you collect your things, the two of you wander to the exit. There’s four recruits standing at the door looking irritated, but when they see Childe, their expressions change.

“Sorry about the tardiness,” you attempt to offer.

“You’re thirty minutes over,” one of them complains.

“Ah, don’t worry about it – my fault, really,” Childe says before anyone else can interject. “I’ll make sure she’s properly reprimanded. Room’s all yours, recruits.”

They file past you quietly and you swear you hear one of them whispering to another about what kind of “punishment” Tartaglia would possibly dish out. When the door slams shut behind them, you give Childe a look.

“Reprimanded, hm?” You inquire.

“Reprimanded,” he parrots back. “Now how about you go get yourself cleaned up, girlie? We can work out the logistics of a suitable punishment later.”

“When would that be?”

“My office. Tonight. Say nine?” He suggests – and it’s not really a suggestion so much as a demand but you nod anyway.

“Yes, sir,” you acquiesce and you can see his gaze darken just slightly. He waves two fingers at you before turning to wander off and you do the same.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says from a few feet away and you pause, glancing back at him. He grins dangerously at you over his shoulder, blue eyes flashing.

“Don’t bother wearing any panties.”

#genshin impact fic #genshin fic #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x female reader #my writing #nsfw.txt #genshin smut

[ashintheairlikesnow]

OH ANTONI 🥺🥺🥺 my poor baby. I hope he will find it within himself to come clean to Jake or SOMEONE about this :((((

(((ALSO CANT WAIT FOR MORR))))

One Two Three Four Five Six

CW: Wound cleaning, burns, touch aversion, aftermath of torture, BBU, conditioned fucky headspace

"Lift your chin for me," she commands, and he doesn't really remember that he could choose not to obey.

Antoni dutifully shifts, his eyes moving to roam over a line of framed photographs along the wall behind her. A wedding photo, faded with time, a much, much younger version of the woman currently dabbing a cotton ball dipped in something cold and stinging to the fresh burn on his throat with a man he's never seen. The two of them are smiling, holding hands, looking right into the camera.

Bright white wedding dress turned cream with yellowing paper, with time, covered in lace. Powder-blue tuxedo. Brilliant smiles.

She touches the cotton ball to his skin and he hisses, hands tightening where they grip the edges of the chair he's sitting on. The sting rockets through him, only a pale echo of the original pain, but it's enough.

It's enough.

Fuck, that's hot.

He catches the sob before it can leave his throat, forces the burn behind his eyes to stay there and not turn into tears. He will not cry over this again.

Not now.

"There we go, just a bit more," She says, her voice gruffly compassionate. She presses a small rounded bandage against his throat, her fingertips are warm against his neck.

His skin crawls at even this slight, indirect touch, but he doesn't protest.

He wouldn't dare.

"All done. That's not s'bad, I think with a good bandaging it won't scar half so bad as all its little friends down south," She mutters, more to herself than him, really.

Where her fingers touch, he feels the echoes of other hands around his throat. Thicker fingers, heavy with rings. Smiling down at him.

Beg for me, love.

"Please-" It's automatic. He's drifting, in and out of this old kitchen that still looks like it must have looked thirty years ago, when the man in the wedding photo would still be here maybe cooking or cleaning or chatting up a storm to anyone who popped by for a visit.

"Hm? You say something, sweetheart?" Miss Ruth looks at him, and those dark eyes are shrewd. They know more than anyone is supposed to, they know things Nat hasn't told her. Hasn't had to.

"Ah, no," He whispers. "Just. I am very tired."

"No doubt. I'll finish these up and you can get back to your own bed and no doubt you'll be glad to get there." She looks him over, and his eyes dance to hers and away again. Back to the photos.

He sees a family photo, the two people from before and a daughter and son. Everyone is smiling, looking carefully just off to the side. They wear matching outfits.

"Get a look at 'em?"

There's a 35th wedding anniversary picture with a big banner behind the happy couple. The two people, much older, stand in front a cake nearly as tall as they are, surrounded by others. Everyone in the photo smiles in sort of the same way.

The next photo is a birthday, he thinks. There's a boy and a young baby in the photo, and the man from wedding and anniversary photo isn't there. Miss Ruth, holding her grandbaby he thinks, is wearing all black. The photo was taken in a church, and there's a spray of white lilies just visible at the edge of the picture.

Another, with Jaden, who Chris plays basketball with. The kid who more or less effortlessly opened his life for Chris when Chris badly needed a friend his own age, or closer to it, to remember what being a kid was like.

He is reading, in images, the story of this woman's adult life. Marriage, and death, and birth. Children. Life going on.

A life he won't have, that he gave up every possibility of having, because of... of whatever is inside him that Mr. Davies knew about, that the people who just hurt him could see in him even though he cannot see it himself.

He must look like someone who deserves to be hurt.

"Young man." She taps on the back of his hand and he flinches, blinking at her, struggling to pull himself out of his reverie. Her words filter through his mind, shift into the language all his thoughts are moving in, come back out in hers. He swallows, feeling a lump in his throat that refuses to move.

"I'm... sorry," He says softly, with difficulty. "I did not hear."

"I can tell. I asked did you get a good look at whoever did this to you." Her eyes roam over his chest, his stomach. The circle of new burns, placed so carefully compared to the haphazard placement Mr. Davies had favored, no pattern at all. "Looks like they took their damn time, anyway, to get you so much."

"N-... no." Antoni's eyebrows furrow, and he tries to think, but all he can remember is their hands holding the lit cigarettes, the quiet one touching his face, ruffling his hair. He can't... he can't remember their faces at all. "I am sorry."

You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?

"Hm." If she's disappointed in him, nothing changes about her expression, still held in a kind of skeptical compassion as she wets a new cotton ball in liquid from a small frosted plastic bottle and touches it to each burn, one by one, in the circle. It's like a ritual, the sting, washing away a bit of sin with each hint of pain. He clothes his eyes and breathes carefully through it.

When he is done, each circle covered with a bandage that is shades darker than his skin, she steps back to look him over, critically. She steps away and he takes in deep breaths free of her air, the powdery scent of her. He breathes in her absence, no one nearby.

She returns with a washcloth and he takes it, scrubs at his face until his cheeks are red but clean, until you can't tell anymore that he cried while they burned him.

Good boy.

"You can stay here," She says, voice low now. "Sleep it off for a while. I've got a guest room."

"No. No, I will go home. Thank you. I will... I want to go home." He looks out the kitchen window right at Nat's house next door. No lights are on... yet. But there isn't much time before they will be.

"Fair enough. You plan to tell 'em what happened to you?"

He looks back at her, searches for the judgement, finds none.

"No," He says. Confesses, really, his sin. "I will not."

I will lie to them.

"That's your choice to make, I suppose." She lays a hand on his arm. He doesn't pull away from her. He wants to unzip himself from his skin and step out of it, let them all have what they seem to want to touch so much.

Instead, he holds himself perfectly still, until she pats him a few times and steps away again.

"I've done what I can do. You come back over here tomorrow or the day after and we'll look 'em over again and make sure they're healing up nice, you got me?"

"Yes," He says. He is good. He can be good.

"Right. Off you go, then, before your people wake up and you get to come up with a story about why you're in an old widow's house at 4:30 in the morning, hm? You're pretty enough, but you're no Wilbur." She laughs to herself, a dry and crackly sound, and he thinks that her laugh was the sort that could set a whole crowd to laughing, when she was young.

It still is.

The corners of his mouth twitch in an answering smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and pushes himself off the edge, standing up again. No one has seen his scars, no one but this old neighbor woman who looks at them like they are simply part of living, not something to be pitied. "I go. S-... thank you."

"Paugh." She scoffs, waves a hand in dismissal. "Go on, now. You've thrown off my morning coffee time. Tell your young man that Jaden will be over this afternoon."

She all but shoos him out the door, and the air is clear and clean and quiet. The only dirty thing is Antoni himself, smudged and mussed, still feeling in his scalp the prickles of Quiet One's hands, still feeling on his arms the sharp pressure of the shirt tied around his wrists.

Still aware of every single burn under the slight pull of the bandages pressed over them, the gentle sting that feels like a return to how he was always meant to be.

Even the walk from one yard to another feels like too much. Antoni's eyes move over the empty darkened windows of the houses all around him. How obvious he must be, if three people saw him in the darkness and knew him for a pet pretending to be human.

He shouldn't have left, shouldn't have gone on those walks. He'd left himself open and vulnerable, hadn't he? His scars are deeper than skin, and they must shine like the streetlights to anyone who knows what to look for.

Antoni stops at the porch, where he carefully lifts a loose bit of board from the porch railing, finds the small box hidden inside. The slightest scrape of metal on metal as he pulls off the lid makes him freeze, but no one is awake to hear it. He takes the contents of the box, moves it quickly back to its hiding place, replaces the board.

Like nothing ever happened.

Everything can be made as good as new, as long as it isn't him.

He slips inside the safehouse, where everything is still quiet, in the silent inhale that comes before the exhalation of morning. The clock in the kitchen reads 4:45, fifteen minutes until Jake's alarm will go off, until he - and likely Chris - will stir.

Fifteen minutes for Antoni get upstairs and look so deeply asleep that no one will realize he was ever gone.

No time to shower.

He will have to sleep with the grime of their hands still ground deep into every single pore. He will sleep with Deep Voice's we know what you are in his ears, with Quiet One's fingers tangled in his hair, running over his skin. He will sleep with Lookout's eyes locked on his chest as he presses the cigarette in.

Antoni hasn't worn a collar in years now, but he buckles it on, just one notch too tight like Mr. Davies would have, and climbs under the covers, pulling them over his head.

He breathes in as deep as he can, to feel the constriction. Breathes out, and runs his hand up over his chest, over the bandages that cover his burns.

They knew what he was.

Everyone always will.

Good boy.

The ashtray falls asleep humming a lullaby, afraid that if he pulls the blankets back down he will see bars on the windows.

#antoni sings lullabies #aftermath of injury #caretaker and whumpee #fucky headspace #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #pet whump #internal dehumanization #(a little bit) #touch aversion #touch averse #recovering whumpee #wound cleaning #hurt/comfort #angst #angst angst angst #come get y'all angst #whump

[yandere-daydreams]

Id bet money that yandere!bakugou watches his darling sleep. He just HAS to. He cant help himself.

You bet your ass he does. And, if I’m any good at this whole writing thing, he does so with as much repressed paranoia as possible. It’d be the closest thing he has to an actual hobby, honestly, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. That’d just be out of character.

Title: Loving Observation.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Slight Codependence, and Mentions of Somnophilia. 

~

It wasn’t like Katsuki liked watching you sleep.

That was much was common sense. Of course he didn’t like it, of course he didn’t enjoy it, who would? He’d heard stories of guys getting off on the vulnerability, the helplessness, the secrecy, but vulnerability and helplessness and weakness weren’t the kinds of things Katsuki was interested in. Staying up all night was boring. He was always exhausted the next day, always irritated, and he always told himself he wouldn’t do it again the next night, that’d he’d sleep by your side and resist the urge to perch himself at the foot of your bed and stare you down with all the intensity of a bird of prey. But, it was the next night, and here he was, standing guard with all the loyalty of a well-trained pet.

Momentarily, he wondered if he’d start growing feathers, if he kept this up.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep, either. He was sure he’d be able to, and if not, Katsuki was always the type to make the best of his insomnia, he’d never liked the idea of wasting so many precious, undisturbed hours on a staring contest with the ceiling. No, if he hadn’t been able to sleep, he’d be researching the villain he’d have to track down in the morning, or meal-planning, or doing anything besides fisting at the sheets and watching you - tired, beautiful, narcoleptic you - drool onto your pillow and kick your comforter into the space he should be occupying, a habit he knew you’d never fight off. He could sleep, it’d be easy to, but he couldn’t let himself sleep. He couldn’t take that risk. He couldn’t be so careless. He couldn’t do something that dangerous and wake up to a corpse, as his reward. He couldn’t let you down like that.

So, he dug his nails into his hand, letting soothing, awakening pain run from the heel of his palm into his wrist until it infected the tips of his fingers and made the rest of the world a little more vivid. Until it made him a little more aware.

You must’ve been used to falling asleep without him, by now. There was always an effort, an extra cup of coffee or a slurred declaration that you weren’t going to bed until he found the time to carry you there, but you’d worked late, tonight, and you’d been ready to collapse the moment you dragged yourself into his apartment. He’d blamed himself for that, too - if he was really as good of a boyfriend as you thought he was, he wouldn’t let you work yourself to the point of exhaustion. But, he’d been called out for an emergency, and by the time he got home, you were already out, undressed and unconscious under the assumption that he’d join you whenever he was ready to, and you’d be able to make it up to him in the morning with a kiss and an apology for wearing yourself out. 

He wanted that. You couldn’t imagine how badly he wanted that. It was the kind of domestic, private bliss he’d come to crave, since you two first moved in together, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to indulge in it. Holding you was just too tempting, too innocent. A million things could go wrong as soon as wrapped his arms around you. He could roll over and break your arm, he could hold you too tightly and suffocate you, he could do something wrong and hurt you, because punishing the people that loved him seemed to be the only thing he was good at doing. Because he would hurt you, if he let himself.

Because something else would hurt you, eventually, and he’d be the one to blame.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t notice when you rolled over, a small groan forcing itself through your parted lips as you settled onto your back, your hands drifting from your pillow to your sides, and then to your chest, another sound of discomfort drawing his attention to your current position. The air fled from his lungs only to hitch in his throat, and for a moment, he watched as you went still. Mentally, he went through your schedule, through the hours of the day, through every risk you’d taken and ever hazard he’d forced you into. Your job was draining, but it wasn’t dangerous, he’d made sure of that. You took the safest route home he’d been able to find, and he’d been slipping supplements into your food for weeks, a habit you wouldn’t approve of, but one he took to keep you healthy, to keep you safe. Still, there was too much that wasn’t accounted for. There was too much he didn’t know. There were too many things he hadn’t seen because you were so independent and because he was a failure of a guardian and because you must hate him--

Your expression contorted from neutrality to pained discomfort, and Katsuki stopped thinking.

In an instant, he was on top of you, straddling your stomach as he took you by the shoulders, wrenching you upward with all the frantic desperation of a soldier under fire. There was no blood, no injury, but an invisible threat was so, so much worse than a wound he could see and evaluate and fix on his own. Your eyes flew open, your hands finding his in less than a second, but your scream was swallowed down as your shock turned to confusion and that confusion faded into bleary, startled concern. You didn’t try to push him away, didn’t writhe or struggle out of his grip, only scanning over his wide-eyed, panicked expression as you collapsed back onto the mattress, adrenaline dissolving into little more than an unpleasant fatigue. That was good, that was great. You were fine, you were alright, you were perfect. He was just being paranoid, you were…

You were glaring at him.

Fuck, right. He probably deserved that.

“What is it?” You spoke slowly, your voice weighed down by sleep. Already, you were settling back down, and a second later, Katsuki followed your lead, falling to your side and keeping to himself until he felt a tap to his forearm, a signal that you weren’t that mad at him. Hesitantly, he uncurled himself, letting you burrow into his chest, your arm soon draped over his waist and your head resting on his bicep. You didn’t seem to care that he didn’t return the gesture. “Better think of something good, ‘suki. If the building’s not on fire, someone’s gonna sleep on the couch.”

He chuckled, dryly, more at the idea of him sleeping at all than to indulge your idle threat. “I thought... I mean, you looked like you were in pain,” He admitted, knowing you wouldn’t remember this conversation clearly enough to recognize the implications. “I was worried. You know how I get, about you.”

“I know how you get about everything.” There was a sigh, this time, a slight lean in his direction. Without a second thought, he plucked the comforter from where it draped over the side of the bed, laying it over your tense form despite your earlier attempts to free yourself from its plush entrapment. Immediately, you relaxed against him, thanking Katsuki with a small smile and a soft kiss to his collarbone. “This is the third time I’ve ‘been in pain’ this week. I know you’re just being protective, and I know you’re trying to help, but--” Despite the darkened bedroom, you averted your gaze. As you went on, your tone became a little more lucid, a little more genuine. His heart twisted in his chest, and Katsuki wondered if it’d be less painful to make you think he hadn’t cared at all. “The way you’ve been acting is really starting to bother me. You’re not getting any rest, and you’ve been so erratic, lately. It’s hard not to feel like this is....” You paused, biting the inside of your cheek. “Like this is bad for us.” 

It was futile to deny it. Assuring you was probably just as useless, but it felt like the right thing to do. “I know, baby. But I’m trying to--”

“Promise me.” You were clinging to him, now, your words muffled by his skin. “You have to promise me this is going to end. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to...”

You didn’t have to finish. Katsuki knew what you were going to say, and he knew it was as terrifying for you as it was for him. He didn’t want to leave you. He didn’t want you to leave him, even if he knew it was for his own good. He wanted things to be better, but he couldn’t stop, not if he wanted you to be protected, not if he wanted you to be safe. He wouldn’t be able to stop worrying, not unless he found a way to make sure he didn’t have anything to worry about.

It was an awful thought. An awful thing to even consider doing to another person. It was awful, and yet, he found himself pulling you closer, his body going slack as he finally let himself relax. It’d be awful, but it’d be safe, too. And it wasn’t like you were giving him much of a choice.

Giving you up wasn’t an option. You’d suffer, but you’d be secured and bound and safe, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of you. He was a good boyfriend, or, he was really trying to be one, at least, and doing something so extreme, something so permant, would only prove he was more devoted, more capable, more loving. Even if he doubted you’d see it that way. 

From his experience, people usually didn’t react well to waking up in handcuffs. 

Not at first, at least. 

“I promise.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere prompt #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere scenarioes #yandere imagines #boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero acadamia imagines #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #bnha imagines #yandere bnha #mha imagines #yandere mha #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #yandere katsuki #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

[starswornoaths]

To Know Me

This might turn into an AU someday. idk. have Mermaid, the bonus day for wolmeric week, several days after wolmeric week ended, as is on brand of me

Thirty years ago, Ishgard plummeted into the sea. Everyone thought the inhabitants had died.

And then they sent a dignitary to honor the Eorzean Alliance...who also happens to be Serella’s childhood friend, whom she had not seen in decades.

word count: 2,705

Despite having nary a single memory in her childhood that didn’t have Aymeric in it, it was hard to stand at the princely dignitary’s side, after fifteen years, and not feel as though she beheld a complete stranger. For a surety, Serella could see the selfsame image of the mysterious boy by the river she had played with as a child in the visage of the man that now led her gently through the old roads that once led to Ishgard, half reclaimed by nature by now. And yet, even when pressed to explain what she had known about that very same boy, even at the time, she found all of her answers came up far short of satisfactory. Even to her. 

In many ways, especially to her.

He seemed to sense her inner turmoil; for all his secrecy in all the years she had known him, he had an almost preternatural sense for what was on her mind.

“Something weighs on you.” Aymeric noted softly. 

In spite of herself, Serella winced. “Many things weigh on me these days. Warrior of Light business, and all.”

“I could only begin to fathom. But that is not what I mean.”

Electing to study her over elaborating further, he canted his head to better peer into her eyes when she glanced away.

Agitation sparked in her chest. He used to do this when they were children, for gods’ sakes. When she would be upset for whatever childish thing had upset her during play, he would wait patiently, not looking away from her, until she finally felt like she were about to burst, and told him what was bothering her. It had always worked, back when she had nothing to worry about but why he was always so cold when he would come out to play with her and Uthengentle. 

 And again when she snapped her head back to remind him,“We’re not children anymore, you know.”

He seemed unphased, but nodded as if that had decided something for him. “Of course not,” he agreed, and turned his attention back to the road, as she did. “I only hope, in time, you might come to open up to me about—”

“You haven’t.” Serella cut him off before she could stop herself, adamantly not looking at him again.

The sound of his footfalls was always a little heavy— even as children, it felt like he never fully knew the strength of his own legs— so it was immediately obvious when he stopped walking. She stopped walking to turn toward him, and immediately regretted doing so when she saw the flash of pain that crossed his face.

“I have not been...as forthcoming as I might have—”

Ever the diplomat. Something about the tone his voice had taken; that same, cordial tone he had taken with the Alliance at their first meeting. It had that same cautious edge to it, like he were testing out a verbal minefield trying not to trip something that could blow up in his face. It needled at the newly agitated wound she had thought long healed: that for all she owed this man, for how he had saved her village when they were children, even as her dearest friend growing up, even then, he had been as a ghost. Haunting her, long after he had disappeared into the river by their house.

Through the frustration in the moment, an ugly truth pushed itself passed her teeth before she could bite down on it. 

“I thought you dead!” 

Whatever neutral expression Aymeric had been maintaining was gone— he watched her with wide eyes and parted lips, and though the expression might seem slight on anyone else, he looked downright shocked to her.

“You just— it was so sudden,” Serella said miserably, still focusing on the foliage-hemmed cliffs overlooking the sea. “Those animals would have destroyed my village, and gods know how many of us would have died in the process, but you...you spoke to them so strangely...almost like you were singing, and then they left! But—”

“I said I had wanted you to know me.” He supplied, his eyes clouded over in somber remembrance. “You were bleeding so badly— I—”

Swallowing thickly, she nodded hastily, and when he took a moment to clear his throat, she said, “I know. You just vanished into the river so quickly, and after...it was as if you were never there at all. I can’t fault you for needing to leave that day. I can’t even fault you for staying away for a while, but—but at least a letter, something to tell me you were alright— I mourned you for years—”

They had maintained a professional, respectable distance, from the moment that they had reunited at the Alliance meeting. Even after, her arm looped through his was as close as they had been. But when her voice cracked and her vision blurred, Aymeric forewent any reservation he might have had and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, squeezing his arms around her. His hand passed over her hair in wide, warm strokes. “I didn’t...I thought I would not be missed—”

We’re not so different in height, Serella distantly realized when she rested her chin on his shoulder, leaned her head into his neck, and held him just as tightly.

“Ma still asks about you, you know. If I see you in my travels.” Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions— elation warring with irritation, joy clashing with sorrow— she squeezed him back. “You sweet fool, of course you were missed. Are missed. Even if I don’t entirely know who it is I’m missing.”

“You know me.” He said, pulling back suddenly. His palms were as wide as she thought they were, she realized, when he gently cupped her face in them. He implored her, “You always knew me. The only thing I ever hid from you was my home—”

“Only.” 

“I...point taken.” The wild, pleading look in his eyes eased into a wincing smile. “Even were I to tell you, I doubt you would believe me, after all this time.”

“I would try to.” She admitted.

The laugh Aymeric gave as he let go of her felt more like a sigh of resignation. She tried not to think on it, instead pondering why he was beginning to wander closer to the cliff’s edge. 

“When we were young, I never told you of my origin for fear of someone finding out through you that could hurt me.” He said, half to her and half to the sea. Committing his focus to her, he admitted, “Even before now, I hesitated for fear of othering. So I have only three questions, if you would indulge me.”

At her assent, his expression eased into relief. “I thank you. Firstly: if I showed you the truth, would you trust what your eyes see?”

“Of course.” Serella replied, still not sure where this conversation was going.

Something like dread, but not quite so heavy, pulled her stomach down slowly toward the floor, the longer she continued to watch the way he had to lean into the wind, now gusting so loudly she had to step closer to hear his next questions.

“Am I still your friend?” He asked, and that reservation had returned in his gaze.

As if that were ever in doubt. “You’ve always been my friend. It’s as I said when we first reunited: of course I want to know you.”

Even when she was close enough to hear him clearly over the wind, Serella continued her advance, drawn in by the way he beamed at her like the sun at the end of a storm.

“Thank you,” he whispered when she had at last came to his side.

“...You had a third question…?” She gently reminded him when she realized she had been staring at the way his hair caught in the breeze and he had still not said anything.

Aymeric seemed to start at that, but when his eyes refocused on her questioning gaze, he gave her a smile so boyish she was reminded of the few times he had ever pranked her when they were young.

“How’s your swimming, after all these years?” He asked.

A question she was not anticipating. Flustered, she blurted out, “As a fish.”

Aymeric snorted. If she didn’t know better, it was almost derisively.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you!” He harrumphed—

—before leaping off the sheer cliff.

For having had no running start, Serella was momentarily shocked by the distance he got out of his jump— before the rest of her brain caught up with her and she realized what he had just done. It had only been a second’s delay, all told, but it was just long enough for her to miss when she lunged for his hand.

She’d overshot the effort she put behind that lurch; the sudden shift of her weight forward made her stumble those few crucial steps between her and the cliff face, and momentum promptly vaulted her over the side.

The fall was less a concern for her; she had done deep fishing further south off of this coast before. It was the sheer rock wall and the lack of a pulley team to get them out that worried her most as she flipped in freefall to push herself further away from the cliff face once she’d accepted she’d fallen too far to recover without injury. Climbing with Aymeric on her back, worst case scenario, was hardly a situation to look forward to, but in that moment, all she cared about was getting to Aymeric first, to save him from drowning, if that was what it came to. She could worry about the particulars of why he would jump off of a fucking cliff: she thought she heard him crashing through the sea’s surface. She had to be quick. 

Balance righted, she crossed her arms over her chest tightly to protect herself as best she could from the fall, and cast Sentinel upon herself before taking the deepest breath she could manage. The blur of blue and slate made her nauseated. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to mentally parse how far she had plummeted so far. The fall felt like it took eons, but still, she clenched her muscles as tightly as she could the whole way down. 

The impact of the water’s surface still surprised her, but she was glad to keep most of the air she had taken in— and that the water was deep enough where she landed that she was not promptly dashed into the rocks.

“Trust your eyes, and open them, Ellie.” Aymeric said— 

—Said? 

“Look at me.” He pleaded, almost urgently.

Serella’s eyes opened before she had consciously thought of doing so, and even when she furiously blinked away the blur, she found she could not quite comprehend the sight before her.

For before her, was her friend Aymeric, his eyes glimmering like the babbling brooks near Elmvale now with slitted pupils, watched her keenly from beneath inky hair wisping about his head as though he were painted into the sea itself, nearly the same as she had come to know him as...save for the long, broad tail that flared out from his hip bones. It coiled behind him once, almost coquettishly, almost shy of her, even as he drifted close. 

He was reaching for her— and it drew attention to the claws at his fingertips, dark and edged with the same deep blue scales that adorned his tail. They fringed his ears, now flared out at the tips in fins, and highlighted his cheekbones, coated the entirety of his throat like armor. When his full lips parted again, she saw that his teeth had sharpened to blade-sharp points—

His hands were still soft. Still his.

The realization pierced her thoughts when he held her face in his hands again. For all the scales and claws, they still felt like him. Something in that revelation quieted her racing mind. In a flash, those new features settled over her friend’s features.

At last, she knew him.

“Trust me?” He asked— and at her nod, kissed her deep enough her tongue ran along those sharpened teeth.

Logically, Serella should feel cold. She should worry about that tingling feeling in her chest, effervescent and fizzing it’s way up her throat, into her mind, bubbling like a sparkling champagne. But all she could think of was how his face felt beneath her hands when she mirrored his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. Even with the scales, they were smooth, and a rumble left him when she tested their texture beneath her thumbs, further distracting her.

She should also probably ponder how she was being pressed flush to him, when their hands were still very much on each other’s faces, but then her lungs were burning. Then, she gasped while still being underwater, and she had a whole new list of question that all started with:

“How—?” She sputtered, more baffled still that she could.

The tenderness with which he handled her did not abate, though that boyish smile returned— wide enough that it crinkled the corners of his eyes in an endearing way. His eyes gleamed like the sunset on the sea.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Aymeric said.

When she opened her mouth to ask why— and the more she was consciously noticing she was actively breathing underwater, the stranger it felt— that grin widened to flash those pointed teeth again. He lightly squished the pads of his thumbs by the corners of her mouth, once. “‘Tis as you said: a fish.”

When she squirmed and started to sink out of his tender grip, she was lifted back into his chest to be held— ah, that tail of his was loosely curled about her thighs, the tapered end near his fins pressing gently into the space between her shoulder blades to adjust her in the waters.

“I only gave you the blessing of water— it permits you breathe water as though it were air.” He explained gently.

She hadn’t been worried about that, not really. Or rather— she hadn’t necessarily thought to, but it was reassuring all the same.

Still, she couldn’t help a chuckle— underwater! May that never lose its novelty!— as she repeated, “Only,” before closing the distance again.

“Ah—” He gasped against her mouth, after a few more moments of drowning in her. “Much as I have dreamt of this…’tis high time I showed you my home.”

Before she could ask what he truly meant— really, what did she even know of the world anymore, after this, Aymeric rearranged her in the gentle embrace of arms and tail alike to gesture with a sweep of his hand to the depth below them. 

At first, Serella could only follow the aim of his outstretched hand, down to the glowing dome jutting out from the seabed. It glittered as a star among the deep blue undercurrents, unmoving. Letting her eyes adjust, she couldn’t help but gasp when she realized what she was looking at.

When Ishgard first sank into the depths, seemingly vanishing overnight, there had been searches, initially. Cursory as they had been at the time, with the threat of the Garlean empire looming and the Calamity that followed not long after, by the time anyone had thought to check any deeper on Ishgard’s fate beyond what the local populace that hadn’t been in the city when it fell had told them, there was little left in resources to properly search. And so, it had fallen into some level of notoriety, almost legend, even only thirty years after its fall.

As a child, she had only seen the very tips of the tallest towers of Coerthas’ city-state from through the treeline, or artful depictions of a dreamlike castle painted in books. It had always looked impossible to her, even so young; a castle, pristine and glittering as a fairytale, somewhere in the real world? Preposterous. And yet...looking at the towering spires, winding, sprialing walkways, and brilliant stonework of that impossible citadel encased in the shield, she knew it at a glance.

Ishgard.

#ffxiv #Aymeric de Borel #wolmeric week #Serella Arcbane #I am as ever your shield #merman!Aymeric #*sigh* *adds another au to the pile* #help I've put entirely too much thought in to this no one ask aksdjghdfjkslgklsdfg #I JUST HOPE THIS SPARKS JOY

[sly-merlin]

killing me - 10 |n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : cursing, explanatory mention of a pistol! 

words :: 5.3k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or              

                   “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: @kpop-choco​​​ @moon-yuta​​​ @kawaiiayasan​​​ @btm-taeyong​​​ @exfolitae​​​ @lanadreamie​​​ @cheersskznct​​​ @hyuckiesgf​​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey​​​  @yiyi4657​​ @sorrywonwoo​​ @sillywinnergladiator​​​ @suhweo​​​ @minejungwoo​​ @leesalts​​  @mal-nakamoto23​​ @ro2424​​

@kafenetwork​​​​​ @neowritingsnet​​​​​

K.M masterlist

k.m9    next

Previous night

“What the fuck were you spitting out there hmm! Have you lost your mind? Why aren’t you answering me you shit!”

jaehyun avoided prying when mark and yuta were arguing but he couldn’t keep it in anymore. mark shifted the gears to park the car in the middle of nowhere, tense silence hugging all of them. jaemin was annoyed with jaehyun’s endless remarks at mark but it was hyuck who was most confused as he was unable to form any kind of judgement.

“why did you stop the car now? Its midnight-

“can you stop drunk talking hyung. I can’t drive like this!”

“I’m very sober. Its you whose brain is dead mark. Did you even notice yuta’s face when you-

“just stop hyung. I’m not ashamed of what I said there. I stand by each and every word! Now can we go back home or do you have anything else?

“you can’t be real! He has done so much for you all these years and this is how you repa-

“yes exactly! He has made so many sacrifices for me all these years, that’s why its my responsibility to show him the right way that he is clearly not following at all and you all are partly responsible for it! You are feeding his selfish ego by showing him hollow sympathy but that’s gonna bite him in the ass at end.”

“woah woah tiger. So what you gonna do? Instruct him how to live his life. Are you making him realise that he doesn’t hate y/n when he clearly cant stand her presence for even a minute and by some miracle, even if you end up pacifying yuta, then what about that cold hearted queen! She’s just here t-

“she is not here on her own! And I am not going to repeat myself, so fix it in your head hyung. She is not here to replace anyone!! Yuta hyung just hates the thought of her coerced and fortuitous presence in his life and I’m not trying to create a miracle here. I just want our lives back to normal and I’ll go to every extent to make it possible!” his chest heaved up and down as the anger subsided a bit, his heart feeling at ease after getting his thoughts out. Jaehyun only scoffed at him.

“you are too naïve markie. This is not how emotions work.”

“this is the only way emotions work hyung!” with that said, he shifted the gear, driving on the road with the same silence lurking again but he felt better. much better.

“who do you think is right?” hyuck whispered in jaemin’s ear, in the hope that he would solve his dilemma.

“I don’t know but I’d love if she stays forever. We are missing one member anyway” he whispered back earning a small tight lip smile from donghyuck who fell into a deep slumber right after that.

Slowly he moved himself to the other side, bruised elbow secured in his hand, grunts exiting him. You knew you were fucked up as soon as his cold eyes fell upon you.

“I guess it’s my time to call taeyong.” He glared, the strong eye contact not lasting for too long as he tried to lift himself up from the floor.

Meanwhile you kept observing him, biting your left thumb, feet glued to the ground. your eyes followed his hobbled travel from the kitchen to the couches from where you heard his long sigh of relief as he placed his leg on the table while stroking his knee. his head fell on the couches and suddenly your conscience kicked in while watching his painful expressions. You found yourself sluggishly walking out of the kitchen with careful steps to avoid the spill, sleepiness fading away.

Yuta’s scraped elbow was in the vision as you neared him. He was still nursing his knee, elbow forgotten by now. Maybe it was the momentary pain! you deliberated about asking him first but then remembered that you don’t have to communicate with him to show that you were still human! So you quietly went to bathroom to find your first aid kit that you placed somewhere the day you settled your stuff. It was not easy to locate it with the lack of cooperation of your hands and mind in the current state, but still you tried your best.

With same motion you went back. Yuta’s hand was still cupping the knee but his features seemed to be much more peaceful than before. But you still approached hesitantly and placed the box on the table, near his foot.

“have a seat please. We have some unfinished business here beautiful!” he sneered, signalling you to sit beside him.

“no thanks. I have work to do.” You tiredly replied, moving away.

“I.Said.Sit.Here! I also wanna experience the thrill of whinning like a baby!

“oh please , I have nothing to fear! Just call him already. I’ve work to do!” you told him in stern voice while circling the table to sit far away from him.

Yuta smirked a little at your show of bravery when anyone could see right through you at the moment. Your eyes were half shut, shoulders slumped down but still upright when it came to fighting him. But yuta clearly knew he had the upper hand this time.

Or he thought!

Your heartbeat sped up with each ring. Very dramatically , yuta had put the phone on speaker to prove his point.

After 5 rings, tayeong picked up and so did your pulse.

“who it is?” a yawn filled voice was heard from the other side.

“are you still sleeping bitch?” yuta inquired with annoyance.

“ye-yes. We cleared the month last night so everyone is sleeping. What el-

“just wake up! I’ve something important to tell!”

“later. I’m bus-

“its about your precious y/n!”

“is she gone?” it sounded like he was suddenly awake!

“tsk tsk. The fuck is your problem? Do you even care about my wellbeing or should I find a new father!” yuta growled at him, his voice pierced through your ears.

“I’ll call her myself!”

“like she would tell you about her plan to lay my 6 feet under the ground!”

Yuta heard a deep sigh from the other side.

“this story better be good coz I don’t wanna lose my sleep ov-

“this is not a story. She spilled water to make me slip and –

“and kill you. what kind of man dies after a little slipping! Huh!”

“have you adopted her or something taeyong! Your attitude is fucking me up. Can you hear me for once or do you-

“what do you wanna say exactly! That you slipped and broke your legs and arms. Make it believable yuta. She might be a bit bitchy but can’t be that evil.”

“so I am a bitch!” your sleepy and cold voice interrupted.

“no no , I meant-

“It was unintentional. i didn’t even know he was home. And it was him who decided to barge in when I was finding food. He was not even invited into the kitchen in the first place!”

“but I got hurt and it was because-

“hurt? you mean as in injured! Oh god. You can’t come back then. take leave for a few days if you are hurt badly and call jun , he’ll be there with medicines and bandages. Consider this an extension of the suspension but you aren’t leaving the hous-

“fuck you taeyong! I hope you die in your sleep!!”

Slamming the phone on the table, he pulled at his roots, lidded eyes boring into you.

“you’ll pay for this.” his finger threateningly pointed towards you.

You let out a yawn before getting up to leave the space to him,

“whatever just don’t finish the spray bottle. Its new”

After that you didn’t hear anything from yuta or anyone.

And it just went like that for 2 more weeks!

“why don’t you shift to the dorms for two months! You can hang out with minjun while he complete his reports.”

“so you want me to lose my sleep and baby your baby?” you snickered, slurping the soup a bit louder this time.

“I’m not a baby!” minjun whined.

“oh you are!” a collective response resounded through the room and your reached out to pet minjun’s hair but he swatted your hand away in annoyance.

“no seriously shortie. You’d be alone for a whole month. Even chelin is going home this time. you can spend some time with junie and he’d treat you to homemade food Is it tempting enough?” jungkook suggested.

“not that I’m any interested in the offer but I can teach you the Japanese you were talking about earlier.” At minjun’s comment, everyone raised their brows, silently questioning your new interest.

“what? You all are so nosy. My new roommate is always dissing me in Japanese and I can’t answer that fucker coz I don’t understand anything he spits out at me.”

“HE?” another group chant resonated.

“why is your roommate a man?” yugyeom added.

“because he was born a man!”

“haha very funny y/n l/n. what’s his name and is he from our university?”

“his name is nakamoto yuta and no, he’s not a student. And before you enquire, he’s home only for like few hours so you don’t need to worry him being a pervert or anything.”

“where is your new residence anyway?” you almost choked at yugyeom’s sudden interruption but it confirmed your suspicion that jungkook hadn’t revealed anything yet.

“instead of me, shouldn’t you love birds be worried about the unbearable separation that’d last for a whole month. How are you gonna cope with it gyeom? Especially when yeong is going to be in Incheon and you in busan, stuck with the sweaty sports team and jungkook, who’d be slapping with you with kisses every now and then, thinking you are min-

A shove of dumpling into your mouth caused you to inhale back all the words that were supposed to leave.

“if you don’t wanna meet, then atleast call him daily after your moon internship and he can also accompany you to busan if you want.”

The colour of the air faded at the mention. Slowly, you swallowed the piece in your mouth , instantly finding a distraction to lighten the mood.

“why are these so delicious?”

Rummaging through the empty boxes, jungkook found the pamphlet and shoved it in your face which you curled into a ball and threw towards minjun, hitting him right in the face.

“yaa jun. keep it safe. We’ll order while watching movies and take keys of this house from your boyfriend,” you ordered, pointing to jungkook, “and his Netflix password and his wallet and if he allows, his car ke-

“shut your mouth love-hater!” jungkook exclaimed while stuffing your mouth with two dumplings. And everyone else just laughed at your troubled state, silently agreeing with jungkook’s statement.

What a good day to be a foodie!

Three days!

Taeil had granted you three days to de-stress yourself before you’d be joining your so called trainer for a self defence training program of two months. You wondered who could it be but it was definitely not the person you wished for! Johnny had been in france since two weeks, right from the day your exams started. He left his phone at home but he did contact you through a payphone to wish luck for exams. Since then, it’d been complete silence from the other end. You didn’t even know whether you really missed his presence or just the thought of being with someone who really showed some care for you.  

eat, tv, sleep repeat seemed to be a very reasonable routine! your happiness had elevated when you saw a notification of chois about a job opening. Though you wanted to start from an internship in the main office but a moderate salary job as an assistant researcher of a junior lawyer wasn’t so bad as well!

no. actually it was awful seeing how much over-qualified you were for this job but with all the diminishing digits in your wallet, there was some significant scope for the bargain in your situation. But you still had to wait for 2 weeks for the acceptance of your application that would take you a step closer to your dream. Just two more weeks!

Is he still alive, you thought before leaving the kitchen, ready to finish the homemade meal.

High on a happy chemical , you cooked yourself ramyeon and eggs and completed your fancy dinner with a bottle of coke.

While slipping out of the kitchen , your eyes fell on the clean sink reminding you of the presence that you hadn’t felt since the last week.

“I’ll accompany jeno. We’ll be done in two minutes” yuta proposed with a lopsided grin.

The place was more livelier with yuta’s return. Not that he wasn’t already present, but the day he returned to his usual routine was when everyone got their sunshine back. He acted like nothing has changed but still noone could ignore his overcautiousness. He was engaging too much as if to make up for the lost time and not that anyone objected for they were happy to see the old yuta with old ways. Just something was odd!

While most of them were oblivious, others understood what he was hiding behind that façade. They had noticed how he took late night activities just to avoid being sent home or how he took jaehyun and mark with him to avoid any interaction with you.

But the most irksome was how day by day,he was drifting apart from taeyong.

“do you wanna take him home?” taeil snapped his fingers in front of your eyes as you registered his words. You were looking or shamelessly staring at the face of the man. He was dangerously tall as compared to you but his face was shining brighter than the sun itself. Your head snapped towards him again as taeil went on,

“don’t stare like you are gonna eat him y/n.” jungwoo eyes were dancing in the whole room as he avoided your curious ones. You didn’t mean to be creepy but you were having a hard time believing that the man sitting in front of you was a street fight champ and a former drug lord’s son. He seemed too….human.

“who’s staring?” you feigned innocence, looking at taeil.

“way to go advocate!” he said before continuing , “as I told you, jungwoo is a trained fighter, assassin and has a strong grip on pistols. Seeing what you can carry, a pistol is best for you. and jungwoo is a softie here so he won’t even give you a scratch during the training. But you have to actually listen to him or I’ll assign someone that won’t go easy on you.

“like?”

“like ten or jeno, they both don’t have any control over where they are hitting once they start so either you can cooperate with jungwoo or be ready to break some of your limbs.”

“how subtle taeil. but I can work with him.” you smiled at jungwoo which was returned with a shy one.

“okay then. Take care of each other and if you need anything then I’m not home.” Ad with a wave , he was gone.

“what do you wanna start with?” jungwoo asked in a small voice.

“you are teacher so whatever you say.”

“okay them. we’ll start with grip practice.” He got up, signalling you to follow him.

You ended up in a small part of the basement. It was divided into two sections with a glass used as the separation. Raw grass kind hard padding was attached to the walls on the both sides. On the other side of the wall were pasted two targets looking like giant sized dart boards that you suppose were for the practice.

While you were glancing around, jungwoo came back with a small metal box. He opened it to reveal a matt black pistol that looked even smaller when he held it.

“you can’t start with a semi-auto one just yet so for basics this is good for you. though I’m here but please don’t drop it. it belongs to taeyong hyung and he doesn’t know it’s here so please don’t mention it either.” He pleaded in a soft voice to which you found yourself nodding, copying his motion.

“so , you don’t need to memorise every part of a pistol but remember the few terms so if you ever held a new gun or pistol, someone can instruct you as to the handling of it.” you kept nodded as he went on,

“this is the exposed barrel, slide stop, safety lever , trigger and trigger guard and the most important magazine, if its empty ,your body would become the home of enemy bullets. Try clicking the safety lever!”

You did as he instructed. For about thirty minutes, he taught about pulling the barrel that drained your wrists of all the strength they had. He let you go only when he was sure you won’t forget the basics, atleast not until tomorrow.

You hadn’t felt this exhausted in your life as much as you did in the last week. If Thesis research and jungwoo’s lessons were not enough then minjun’s new found love of photography was surely doing its work on your body. Who knew holding flowers and leaves for aesthetic photos was so much draining! And the time you were alone at home was spent sleeping and that too only if yuta and his gang were not screeching out their lungs, fighting with someone online with no regard for the well-being of others in the house. You knew he was aware of his actions but with zero communication, even you didn’t bother pointing him out.

But when had avoidance created peace!

12:30 p.m

As you flipped the glossy leaves of the photo album, the three humans behind that transparent film seemed to come alive, albeit in your memories. Pausing at every page, you tried to live those moments once again ,just like every year. Though you and that photo album were bound by a thread of sadness, the memories it contained made you feel immense joy that was incomparable for you.

The small album was the only memory that reminded you of the family you had once! and today was the day you’ll go to meet them again.

Busan was not that far away but the location of the graveyard added a whole hour to the already 3 hour long journey. You were supposed to meet your orphan warden at the station directly and like every year she'd be accompanying you to Busan so you could meet them. Even though you were a grown-up now , she didn't had the heart to let you go alone. So it had became a tradition.

After memorizing every picture, you got up to get ready for the long journey. Taeil had excused you for this weekend so there were no worries from his side. you rotated the doorknob to open but it didn’t budge.

You shoved your body against the door but nothing happned! Though you didn't want to rely , there was only one option left!

"yuta!" You shouted in a hope that his lazy ass would respond but silence replied instead.

"yuta! Can you hear me. I'm locked!" You tried again, both shouting and trying the knob, banged the door but none worked in your favour.

Then realisation dawned on you! Why won't he hear anything when he was right outside the room! because he didn't want to!

"yuta I swear I'm gonna kill you! let me out!"

Raking your hands through your hair, you decided to find your phone but it looked like the whole universe was conspiring against you as the phone was not in the room. you had probably left it on the kitchen counter earlier. The only communication you had was with yuta and he was not listening to you , delibrately!

Your fist met the door with all the power you could muster but only the echo was heard which fainted within few seconds.

"fuck you yuta" you mumbled dejectedly before throwing yourself on the mattress. Contempt filled your heart as you watched the fan moving endlessly and your mind grasped the reality that maybe you won't be visiting them. Not if he didn't open the door. But he couldn't lock you for years!

And whenever that door opens , you'll make sure to close it forever.

"eat slugs , haechan!" Yuta exclaimed into the microphone, killing another of haechan's Avatar in the game. He winced as haechan groaned loudly, trying to get some pity out of yuta.

Calling it a day, he teared the headphones away , the sudden silence bringing peace to his ears. Stretching his limbs, he got up but as he trudged for the kitchen, he heard a knock that didn't come from the front door.

He stopped abruptly as if to check if his mind was playing games on him but he heard it again, this time a fainted one.

His stopped in front of your room and slapped his hand against the door , checking his suspicious. Another fast and hard bang came in response and he rotated the knob to open but nothing happened. Forcing his body against the door, a metal dropping sound reached him before the door opened. Without even glancing at you, he leaned and picked up the screws that were stuck in the door hinges. But before he could show you those, you pushed him backward, releasing all the anger at once.

"what the fuck is wrong with you!" Not paying any attention to any of his words, you searched for your phone that you found on the counter and shot your warden an apologetic message. The orphan was near the station so you were sure she won't have waited for more than thirty minutes but you knew she'd have been worried for you.

Quickly working , you called taeyong while running for the main door, a confused yuta following you.

"you are home taeyong?" You asked him while wearing your shoes and exited , ignoring yuta's perplexed questions.

Yuta stood in the doorway, contemplating what the heck he had witnessed!

18:30

Taeyong jerked forward on his chair as you slammed open the door of his office and marched in. When you called earlier , he thought you were going to complain about something that yuta did but the heat of the anger radiating through your body was enough to burn his senses from a distance.

"sit and calm-

"I'm not here to witness your hospitality Lee taeyong. Relieve me of the agreement here and now. my way or your way! I don't wanna live under the same roof wi-

"why are you shouting so much?" Jaehyun interrupted ,entering the room in a swift motion. Following him were few others who might have been awakened by your outburst.

"shut up jaehyun! For once do something with your worthless life" you spit out, eyes boring into jaehyun's.

"can you atleast tell me what has happened!"

To answer taeyong , you moved forward, resting your hands on the head of a chair continued,

"yuta locked me today. My phone was outside in the kitchen. I shouted , pleaded but he didn't open the door for 5 hours. I was supposed to go to Busan but that motherfucker don't ha-

"Busan? Your hometown?" Taeyong disrupted your speech,

"f-for my parents' death anniversary! I was suppose to visit their graves like every year.b-but he chose today of all days to play his little revenge games on me." With broken voice and tears threatening to spill, you managed to proceed,

"i don't wanna live with him anymore. I didn't sign up for this torture. Kill me for all you want but don't try to convince me into staying with that bastard!" Your nails holed into the leather chair, creating small crescents on the surface.

Uncomfortable silence fell over the whole room . As you turned around to leave, you were met with yuta's figure. His hand motioned to reach you but you closed the distance before he could.

"i hope you enjoyed it today!" With venom laced words, you finalised your proposition by flinging the ring straight into his face, his face scrunching at the hit , before walking past him.

"hyun-

Before taeyong could complete, taeil was already was on your heels.

"why do you have to be an asshole yuta?"

" i didn't do anything!" He started as he picked up the ring from the floor, “the door was ja-

“you shouldn’t have stooped so low nakamoto yuta!” tayeong growled with eyes glistening with fire.

“what now?” yuta’s jaw clenched at jaehyun’s nonchalant words. Pocketing his annoyance for him, he opened his mouth to explain himself,

“nothing now ok! I did nothing.i didn’t lock her and certainly didn’t try to forbid from going anywhere. She wa- the door was jammed due to some loose screws. I had to push it so it’d open. I-i-I wasn’t even aware of her plans. Heck, you can ask hyuck. I was playing with him for 6 hours straight. I had headphones in my ears all that time and you know how much hyuck yells. Even if she was stuck, there was not a sound that reached me taeyong. I was as oblivious to all this as much as you all were till now and knowingly, I won’t ever do anything so harsh. You know me very well! don’t you?” he ended with a hopeful question glancing at everyone in the room. With each passing second, his anxiousness elevated at the silent and calculating faces of everyone.

“you don’t believe me, do you?” his broken voice resembled the one they just heard few minutes ago.

“no yuta.i-its not like that . message taeil hyung about all this so he can calm her down.” Taeyong muttered with eyes searching up yuta’s for any malice he might be planning but found nothing. he was innocent.

But yuta panicked at his words, “why? I can explain by myself. It’s not that difficult. I can handle her taeyong.” he turned for the door but taeyong’s words stopped him in his tracks.

“you think so! You should be glad you are alive yuta”

“then release us taeyong. I’m begging you, LET HER GO!” the shout that echoed was enough to send shivers through every living being in the vicinity.

“I will. If taeil hyung say so. Message him yuta and you should know I don’t repeat my words without expense!”

He did as told, head hung low to avoid the pity looks that were thrown his way!

“don’t follow me taeil!”

“I’ll stop if you’ll stop!” taeil politely replied, tracking your steps on the sidewalk. He tried to obstruct your way but ended up following you instead. 15 minutes had passed since you both left the house but your anger was not simmering down and you were stunned at his patience.

“you can’t walk till university.” You deadpanned.

“neither can you.”

Stopping abruptly, you faced him, “you can’t stop me taeil.”

“I won’t. but the bus driver would. Even pretty girls don’t get a free ride home.” You groaned at his unnecessarily true words. He was right, you had nothing on you except for the phone.

He silently observed your slumping body, before walking a step closer to check the waters. When you didn’t push him away, he lightly took your hand in his, tugging you to come along.

“I don’t wanna go with you.” your hushed voice gave him some courage to proceed further,

“we aren’t going home. Lets just sit”

He dragged you to the park you had passed just five minutes ago. Sitting on the bench , he asked you to explain everything that had happened in the last 6 hours. You recited the whole story till the end where you threw the ring at yuta. Taeil only hummed in response when he heard a buzz from his phone.

Reading yuta’s message , he suddenly knew where to start!

“read this y/n.” he said before giving you the phone.

You absorbed each and every word written. It made sense. But did it?

“he’s lying.” You scoffed , returning the phone.

“he’s not.”

“ofcourse you’ll take his side.”

“and why would I do that?”

“he’s your brother”

“and you are my sister”

“no I’m not. I never would be.” You retorted, hiding the effect his words had on you.

“I might not be your brother but you can’t stop me from calling you my sister and I’d prefer you over yuta anyday.”

“but you still think I’m lying and he’s right”

Taeil massaged the back of his neck, clearly getting annoyed by your snapping.

“when did I say you are lying? I just said he’s not lying.”

“isn’t it the same thing?”

“no its clearly not. You just don’t wanna admit that you misunderstood!”

Uncrossing your legs, you faced him, “ because I am not in the wrong here. he is ! he did it so he can have the house all to himself while I’m locked. The truth is he hates my guts. He wont ever pass an opportunity against me!”

“and like you love his guts! Your hatred for him is the reason that you don’t wanna believe he’s innocent. Your heart wants to believe that everything that had unfolded after that night is yuta’s fault. You don’t wanna believe because you just don’t want to! You are rejecting his reason because your mind says its the perfect chance to break taeyong! your anger and emotions are playing games with you and you are letting them! and this is exactly what yuta had been doing from the very first day! He’s no different than you. No matter how much you discard it, the truth won’t change! Impulsive actions lead you nowhere!” His polite yet authoritative voice was providing inputs that you didn’t want to believe. Not yet.

“I just wanted to go to busan taeil. If he hadn’t been home the-

“if he hadn’t been home , then you would not have even made it out! And I’m sure you have heard him playing games. He’s a loudspeaker and believe me haechan is yuta part two. I’m sure he didn’t hear you.”

“but why would anyone even care! I’m the one at loss here.”

“what loss. Just because you missed it today doesn’t mean you can’t go tomorrow and If you want i can take you there. we can go right now! But y/n , loved ones live in your heart!. You don’t need a day to show them your respect and love. They know you and they watch over you. don’t crumble under the weight of customs and rituals. We’ll go tomorrow morning. Be ready by 8 a.m !” his soothing voice managed to calm the storm but you weren’t going to budge from your first condition.

“I don’t wanna go back with him.”

He sighed heavily before pressing his phone to his ear,

“taeyong. replace yuta in france. For two months and I don’t want any further discussion.”

You sniffled, finally letting out the tears that were in the waiting since the morning.

“I can drop you to the dorm for tonight until he packs his stuff and you can go back home tomorrow. Sounds right?” he described his plan , petting your hair.

You weakly nodded, letting him ease your worries with sympathetic words that you didn’t even know you needed!

next morning 

Uncomfortable silence welcomed you as you entered the house. You were told that he was gone and it sounded about right with the present atmosphere.

After finding the fruits, you made you way to the room but stopped in your tracks as you spotted something on the counter.

Three moulded screws were placed on a paper along with the ring that you thought would never be seen by you again. you breath quickened as you read the words on the plain paper

I’m sorry!

What were you supposed to do with it now?

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

thank you for reading ! feedback is always appreciated \(￣︶￣*\))

🎈

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[reesewestonarchive]

chapter ten / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost

The trouble with a man like Michael is the guy has shit all over the country. He’s well known, if not by his full name, and well-hidden. Nakoa’s never known him to be even close to discovered by authorities.

He hides his tracks well, and living in Withervale, not flaunting the money he must have… It must makes things easier.

Unfortunately for Nakoa, it means he’s stuck in one of the warehouses, chained to a fucking car, waiting. The warehouse is in the shitty end of town, though, quiet and rundown. A lot like Withervale. Nakoa screams, but he can’t hear the sounds of the road, so why would they hear him?

Nakoa bangs his hand against the car, against the door until more of the paint scrapes off, then starts scraping HELP into the side of the car, with the metal chain.

If Michael’s gonna do what he fucking pleases, he might as well make him work for it. Nakoa already plans on fighting as much as he can, but Nakoa’s not a fighter.

“Good,” he hears, over loud speaker. “You’re awake. I was hoping I’d be able to send in one of my men, test your limits when you least expect it, but…” A sigh, then Michael continues, “I’ll bring your friend in soon. Don’t go anywhere. You and I have plenty of fun to get to.”

Fun. Is that what they call this? When does ‘fun’ turn from fun to torture, when does Nakoa stop getting chained to cars and gets back giving Rem blowjobs in the back of the van?

Nakoa sits. Waits. Tugs on his wrists and lets panic consume him. What does Michael have planned for him? Why bring in Rem?

Minutes tick by, so many that Nakoa loses track of how many. He rattles the chains and swears and waits.

And waits, but Michael doesn’t return. No one does. The sun sets and Nakoa feels a chill in his bones because still, no one comes. He thinks maybe Rem got him, somehow, that Michael’s nothing, anymore, but… Rem would have found him.

The chain holds strong.

Nakoa dozes, sings Queen and Bowie and Billy Idol and tries, fucking tries, to put the thoughts behind him, but he keeps remembering Rem on the ground, on the asphalt, and—

The door slams open. Nakoa can’t make anyone out in the dark, and the light that turns on blinds him.

Something drops to his feet in the dark, brushes against his leg, and Nakoa peers between his fingers, and—

“Rem—” His voice is choked, already, immediate at the sight of Rem crumpled at his feet, and Nakoa’s heart plummets and speeds up, a thumpthumpthump against his ribcage. Eyes wide open even as the light burns, Nakoa tries to reach out to him.

From above, Michael chuckles. “Little fighter, this one. Too bad for him. Dropped the knife.”

Nakoa holds his breath—don’t—he can’t—and waits for the rise and fall of Rem’s chest, counts five seconds, six, until he sees Rem breath, hears his nose whistle.

His shirt, one of The Clash, has been ripped to shreds, blood dotting the grey fabric and matting it down against his skin. His knuckles are a mess, a bruise is forming around his eye, around his neck.

A cut sits, still bleeding, on his cheekbone.

“Nakoa,” Michael says, his tone no-nonsense. “I expect you to cooperate, if you value your friend’s life.”

“Fuck you,” Nakoa responds, his voice breaking. Relief is a monster in his chest, thrashing with anger and fury, and he lifts his gaze to Michael, finally, says, “Fuck you.”

Michael looks worse than Rem. There’s a long, long gash spanning most of the side of his face, scratch marks, /teeth/ marks in his neck. His nose is swollen, blood dripping down his lips and staining his mouth red, but he grins through it.

“Fine. You want a fight, Nakoa, I’ll give you one. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He disappears into the darkness, for a minute, footsteps fading, and Nakoa takes the break to search Rem’s face, his body—to will him to wake up.

He does. 

Rem stirs with a groan, then, barely; tries to sit up, but he can’t. Nakoa watches, helpless, as he struggles with his position, his surroundings. More than anything Nakoa wants to reach for him, pull him into a hug, into anything, into bed if that’s where Rem wants him, but away. Safe and not here.

Anywhere else. Michael’s footsteps are returning, double now and Nakoa wonders if he’s just hearing things, but when Michael returns, he’s with another man.

“Na—” Rem chokes, forces his voice out, “—nakoa, what the—” Then stronger, as Michael grips his hair tight: “Hey, asshole, get your fucking hands off me!”

Nakoa reaches a hand out, knows that Rem can’t grab it, that Michael won’t let him even if he could reach, but Nakoa still does it. Wants to feel Rem’s skin under his fingertips, wants to feel Rem’s flesh against his own.

“Nakoa.” Rem’s voice is gentle, though, edged with worry, and though he’s already being pulled from the room, he keeps talking. “I’ll fix this, Nakoa, I’ll fix it. This asshole won’t know what hit him.”

Okay. Okay. Nakoa thinks it’s garbage, that it’s not something just anyone can do, take out Michael. And Rem probably is the first person in a long time that even fucking tried.

“Vaughn,” Michael calls, over Rem’s voice, “make sure you break him. He’ll be a challenge.

Rem keeps swearing as Michael hauls him out, and the lights go off, and Nakoa is left in the silence once again, Vaughn grinning down at him.

“Shall we get started?” Vaughn says, taking a knife from a holster at his hip. “I’m eager to make you sing, little bird.”

-

“Nakoa,” but his voice is far away. In his mind, maybe? Nakoa can’t open his eyes, too heavy, but he smiles at Rem’s voice, anyway. Reaches his hand up, even though it aches, hurts worse than anything he remembers, the pain reverberating from his shoulder through his chest. Rem’s voice is sharper when he speaks next. “Nakoa. Are you fucking okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m great,” Nakoa says, but his words come out as, “Mmm,” and he makes no attempt to correct himself. He feels cold, but he feels like he’s on fire, too.

“I need to get you out of here.” Shuffling, then swearing, before Rem grabs for Nakoa’s wrists Rem makes quick work of the ties at his wrists, though, sawing through the ropes holding Nakoa down with a pocket knife. He brushes his fingers along rope burns Nakoa can’t feel through the fog in his head. “Can you walk?”

Nakoa moves his leg, but pain rockets up into his torso, and he moans, drops his head back against the concrete. Tears form in his eyes, but he says nothing.

Swearing, then, “Okay. Okay.” He can feel Rem’s hands hovering, over his stomach, his face, his legs. “I’ll carry you.”

Nakoa wants to ask where the fuck Rem got out, how badly his father hurt Rem, if he did. If Rem got revenge, or…

“But we need to move, now.”

“Rem,” Nakoa says, brushes his finger against Rem’s wrist, and even that movement makes pain burst behind his eyes. “Rem, I need to tell you something.”

Rem’s laugh cracks, humorless and broken. “Fuck no. Not here. Not—not now.” His hands are warm under Nakoa’s neck, too warm, but Nakoa still turns into him. “Might hurt— ready?”

No, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Nakoa knows he ought to be more hurried to get away from here. Instead, he’s grateful for the proximity. “Sorry,” he says, his voice a mess. “Fuck, Rem, ‘m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize. Gonna get my revenge in a second—hold still, okay? Try not to make a sound. I can’t fucking run with you.”

Nakoa braces himself for the pain, which hurts in itself, but Rem moves him carefully, aware of Nakoa’s shoulder, and Nakoa holds the sound in his throat when Rem lifts him into his arms. Instead of screaming, Nakoa shoves his face into Rem’s shoulder and huffs a warm breath out

“Okay. Good. Quiet—stay quiet.”

Though Nakoa isn’t walking, it still hurts, still jostles his injuries and sends him through the roof with pain, but he grips Rem tight and doesn’t let go and hopes for a pleasant ending to this.

Not sure if there’s one for him, as long as Michael’s still around.

The world fuzzes out, turns black, over and over. Nakoa tries to focus on Rem’s breathing, something to keep him conscious, but with the pain throbbing through his leg…

Nakoa’s slowing him down. Nakoa’s going to get Rem caught up in his bullshit, and Michael’s not a merciful guy. Never has been a merciful father. It’s doubtful that wouldn’t extend to Rem.

Without Nakoa, Rem has a change, and it’s Nakoa’s fault they’re in this in the first place. Michael’ll be furious, but—at least Rem will be safe.

“Rem,” Nakoa says, reaching for him. His hand hits some of the spikes on Rem’s jacket. “Rem. Listen to me.”

“Shut up.”

“Leave me here.”

A huff of unamused laughter, then, “Fuck no.”

“I mean it.” Nakoa swallows, already terrified at the thought of Michael finding him in a failed escape attempt.

“I think I prefer you unconscious.” But Rem bites his lip, says, “You sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“He’s just gonna keep finding us. He has people all over North America.” The world’s blurring black again, shadows along the  edges of his vision. Sweat beads across his forehead. “Look at me, Rem. You gotta leave me.” He’s not being dramatic, not doing it to force Rem’s hand; he’s just right. Nothing Michael does surprises Nakoa anymore, but Rem… Rem doesn’t need to know the secrets Nakoa has kept from him about his father.

“Fuck you,” Rem says. His expression hardens and he scowls. “This is the thanks I get for trying to fucking help you—”

“Rem.”

He shuts up, goes quiet, staring down at the ground, anywhere but at Nakoa. “Can’t put you down.”

They’re close to outside, now, Nakoa can smell the fresh air coming through the cracks in the doors, through broken windows. Rem still won’t look at him, even in the dim light. “What did you do?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Rem says, turning to open the door, and—

It’s outside. Freedom. Nakoa takes deep breaths, despite the pain that creaks in his chest, and lolls his head against Rem’s shoulder, taking it in. Rem leads them past a bleak landscape, out past the road, into a clearing behind some trees. He sits Nakoa in the grass and says, “You good?” Head lifted, Rem says, “Gonna be loud—cover your ears—”

“What—” Nakoa starts, but shoves his fingers in his ears anyway, trying to crane his neck to whatever it is that Rem’s waiting for.

He hears it through plugged ears, a loud explosion that shakes the ground. It lights fire in Rem’s eyes, a grin on his face—which Nakoa can now see is blood covered and bruised, but Rem looks so fucking pleased with himself.

“Should buy us some time,” Rem says, but Nakoa can’t hear him, just sees his lips move. He pulls his fingers out of his ears, turns around, heat warm on his face, and—

Oh. “How the hell—”

“Michael has more secrets than he lets on.” Rem clears his throat. “Let me look at your leg.” He tugs a knife free from his pocket and cuts a slit up Nakoa’s jeans. At Nakoa’s protests, he says, “Relax. You have others.” He whistles, says, “Shit,” under his breath, and starts ripping from the bottom of his t-shirt. “You remember anything that happened?”

Nakoa barely remembers five minutes ago, barely remembers Rem carrying him from the building. He reaches out, grasps at Rem’s wrist, makes a noise, and drops his head back against the floor.

Fuck.

“All right. Okay. Up.” Rem puts his arm behind his neck, the other behind Nakoa’s legs, and hauls him to his feet. “Hey. Stay with me, right?”

But Nakoa’s consciousness is fading, and the last thing he says is, “Rem, I l—” as he grips at Rem’s hair, and…

Darkness.

#my writing #road to nowhere au #quick question why are my own words frustrating me today

[phoenixsavant]

Maid-sama Saeran

Just a quick fic because I never know when to stop with a joke.

               Vanderwood watched as the twins sparred together. Saeran had been learning quickly, but still had yet to best Saeyoung.  It was impressive though, he had improved dramatically over the past two months.  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he stepped out of the room to take the call.  

               “Yeah, we’ll be there,” he promised, ending the call. Just then, he heard a shout and a pain-filled cry from the dojo.  He ran through the doorway to see Saeyoung gasping on the mat and Saeran standing over him, panting but looking proud.

               “Oh!  Damn! Ow!” Saeyoung exclaimed.

               “Get… over it… baby,” Saeran said, holding his hand out to his brother.  “Up… do it… again.”

               “I can’t,” Saeyoung whimpered.  “My ankle, oh god.”  He clutched his thigh and rolled to his back, dangling the ankle in question in the air.

               As he approached, Vanderwood could see something was terribly wrong.  Saeyoung’s foot just sort of dangled in the air.  There was no tension in it and it canted to the outside.  

               “What the fuck did you do?” Vanderwood growled, kneeling next to Saeyoung.

               Saeran’s expression slid from victory to concern. “I used that inside sweep you showed me, that’s all.  What’s wrong?”

               Saeyoung’s eyes were clenched shut, and his face screwed up tightly in pain.  “Is it broken?  I heard something when I fell.”

               Vanderwood could not tell for sure if it was a break or not.  It could be, given the speed with which it was swelling and turning purple.  It could just be a sprain.  He prodded gently, ignoring Saeyoung’s cries as he inspected the injury.  Ankles were the worst injuries.  They hurt the worst, and they took the longest to heal.

               “Tell me everything,” he said to Saeyoung.

               Saeyoung recounted the two attempts Saeran had made to get close enough to throw him, and then the surprise of Saeran’s foot pushing his own into the air.  When Saeyoung tried to balance on his other leg, Saeran rushed him, and Saeyoung’s ankle rolled under the force of the impact, twisting until Saeyoung had been standing on top of his foot before falling.

               “Well, shit.”  Vanderwood sat back on his thighs.  He looked up at Saeran, who had been watching closely as Vanderwood inspected Saeyoung’s ankle.  “Congratulations, you won.  Unfortunately, your brother wasn’t named Grace.”  He groaned.  “Come on, time to go to the hospital.  We need an x-ray.”  

               The fact that Saeyoung had no smart-ass response worried Vanderwood more than the now softball-sized swelling around the young man’s ankle.

               The emergency room was thankfully bare this afternoon, and the trio was in a room waiting for the x-rays in no time.  

               “We have a problem,” Vanderwood announced as the nurse left, having given Saeyoung some medication to ease the pain and an ice pack for the swelling.  “That call I had to take was about the mission we’ve been waiting for the green light on.  We’re supposed to go tonight.”

               “Shit,” Saeyoung muttered.  “I don’t think I can, not like this.”

               “I know, that’s why it’s a problem,” Vanderwood stated.  Life wasn’t so bad since they’d gotten away from the agency, but they were still taking on freelance work.  No one would show up to kill them if a job didn’t get done, but it made them look bad. They’d also have to return the money, and it was five months since the last job already.  

               “Will it be bad that you can’t?” Saeran asked. He’d apologized repeatedly.  He didn’t intend to harm Saeyoung, he just wanted to win one match.  Just one.

               “It won’t be great,” Saeyoung replied. “Don’t worry though, there’s no danger. It’s just, we needed this job.”  

               Saeran frowned.  He felt guilty, responsible.  It was because he was pushing so hard that Saeyoung was hurt. They wouldn’t even know how badly hurt until the x-ray results came in.

               “Don’t stress about it, Saeran,” Saeyoung tried to smile.  “I’m fine. Even if it’s broken, it’ll heal. You’re looking at me like you tried to kill me.”  

               Saeran blanched.  He remembered when he had tried.  No, this wasn’t him trying to do anything but win a stupid sparring match, practice.  He was angry with himself about it, too.

               When the doctor returned, the good news was that Saeyoung’s ankle wasn’t broken.  The bad news was that he’d managed to tear the tendons to hell and back. He was given a walking cast, crutches, and orders not to put his foot down for a full ten days.

               The car was silent on the drive home.  Vanderwood helped to get the twins inside and went back out to get the prescription for the pain medication filled.

               Saeran’s guilt had not abated.  He made sure Saeyoung had what he needed to rest and then sat in a chair near the couch.  He looked at the elevated foot and chewed the corner of his mouth.  He wondered if he should call MC.  She hadn’t been home to see her family in months though, and she needed the rest.  If she knew, she’d rush home and worry until Saeyoung was healed.  No, let her enjoy her vacation.

               “What was the mission?” he asked, an idea half-forming in his thoughts.  

               “Huh?”

               “The mission you were supposed to do, what was it?”

               “Ah, we were just going to retrieve some material that was being used for blackmail.  Easy in, easy out, and the client gets to stop living in fear of her ex.”

               Saeran snorted.  He knew Vanderwood and his brother were trying to make up for all they’d done while working for the agency.  He didn’t know they were playing the rescuing heroes.  

               “Is it something I could do?” Saeran asked.

               “Is what?”

               “Damn, that morphine makes you stupid.  The mission, could I do it?”

               Saeyoung sat up on his elbow, his eyes wide for a moment.  Then the excitement bled out, and he flopped back on the cushions.  “It requires dressing to go undercover. I don’t think you’d be able to pull it off.”  

               “Why not? Saeyoung asked as the door to the bunker opened.

               “Why not what?” Vanderwood asked, tossing the prescription to Saeyoung.

               “I was asking if I could do the mission for him since he can’t.  It is kind of my fault you guys are in this situation.”

               Vanderwood looked at Saeyoung.  “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

               Saeyoung didn’t look at Vanderwood, he just flopped his arm over his eyes.  “I told him it has to be done under cover and I don’t think he could do it.”

               Vanderwood nodded and Saeran felt himself getting irritated.  “Why couldn’t I do it?  If it’s just going in, grabbing something, and walking out, why not?”  He was as good as his brother at everything he’d tried, and better at some things!

               “You sure you want to do it?” Vanderwood asked. “If you say you do, I won’t stop you, but you can’t back out on me.  You have to do it.”  

               “If you’re going along, you can just tell me what to do.  I can do it. I look just like him, for Christ sake.”

               Saeyoung giggled.

               Vanderwood shook his head.  “Alright then, if you’re that determined.”  He crossed the living room, heading toward Saeyoung’s room. “Brief him, I’ll get the clothes.”

               Saeyoung smiled brightly.  “You don’t know how much this means to me, little brother!”

               “Whatever,” Saeran muttered.  “What’s the story?”

               “Alright, the client used to work at one of those maid café places.  She left because she was dating a manager there, but they broke up.  She’s moved on, and it wouldn’t look good for her new employer to know about the old job. The ex has the photos he took of her while she was working there.  He’s threatening to send them to her boss, and put them online.”

               “So you’re going after the pictures?”

               “Right, I was anyway.  The client talked this jerk into bringing the photos to the café tonight.  She’s promised to talk to him about coming back to work there, provided he gives them to her.  She knows his locker combination, so like I said, it’s in, get the goods, get out.”  

               “Sounds simple enough,” Saeran nodded thoughtfully. “You’re sure the pictures will be there and that he doesn’t have other copies?”

               “I already made sure he doesn’t.  Every time he tries to scan them in, they just go missing. It’s the strangest thing…” Saeyoung smirked.

               “Hey!  Saeran!” Vanderwood called.  “You wear the same size as Saeyoung now, right?”

               Saeran looked at his slightly smaller frame. He’d packed on weight and muscle, but he wasn’t sure about clothing sizes.

               “It’ll work on him,” Saeyoung called back. “Worst case, we just pad the bust a little more!”

               “Bust?” Saeran asked, suddenly feeling hesitant.

               “Oh, didn’t I tell you?  You’ll be playing the part of a maid tonight!”  Saeyoung smiled, looking like the cat who had just cornered the canary.

               Saeran’s eyes went wide.  “Maid?  But those are all played by…”  His words failed as Vanderwood returned carrying a hanger with a maid costume, a long wig, and a set of ladies underthings.

               Saeyoung’s grin shifted from cat with cornered canary to cat who swallowed canary, and he began to cackle.

               “Do you know how to wear these?” Vanderwood asked, tossing the lingerie at Saeran.

               Saeran managed not to drop anything.  “You’re kidding, right?  You want me to dress up like a … a woman!?”  

               “You said you were willing to handle the mission,” Vanderwood pointed out.  “I already called the client.  We are go, and you’re up.”  There was no consolation in his voice.

               “It’s alright, little brother, I can help you! The stockings are super nice, I picked them out especially for this mission.  The lace at the thigh won’t roll up on you, either!”  

               Saeran looked at the long stockings in his hand. He hadn’t noticed the lace before. His face paled.  “You can’t be serious.  Can’t I just be a busboy or something?”  

               “Sorry, we’ve already arranged everything,” Saeyoung replied.  “It has to be a maid.”

               Saeran was all too aware that his brother did not look sorry, he looked excited. With a sigh, Saeran asked, “So I just pull these on?”  He lifted the stockings with his fingertips, worried about damaging them.

               “Not until after you shave!”

               “Wait! What!?” Saeran gasped.  “Shave… what?”

               “At least your legs and Vanderwood can wax your chest for you!”

               “Oh hell no!  You are not touching my chest!  There’s no hair on it anyway!”

               “You still need to shave your legs, and your armpits,” Vanderwood stated, laying the costume carefully over the back of the couch.  “Come on, I’ll show you what to do.”

               Saeran glared at Saeyoung, but Saeyoung only smiled cheerfully.

               “Thank you so much for helping us out,” Saeyoung beamed at Saeran.  

               “I hate you,” Saeran muttered, following Vanderwood back to the bathroom.

               Vanderwood showed Saeran how to warm and soak his legs before shaving, and how to avoid cutting himself with the razor.  The angles were odd, but with Vanderwood’s help, Saeran’s legs were soon free of hair.  Once done, Vanderwood had him put on some sort of lotion that at least helped with the burning feeling.  

Saeran couldn’t get over how his legs felt without hair on them.  On the one hand, he understood why girls apparently liked the way their legs felt after shaving.  On the other hand, he didn’t think he should be feeling that sensation.

They returned to the living room.  Saeyoung demonstrated how to bunch up the thigh highs and pull them over the foot to avoid putting a hole in them.  Saeran gave him a sour look as he pulled them up.  They were soft, but this was just not okay with him.  He had no interest at all in women’s clothing!

“So, the dress, huh?” Saeran asked.

“Not yet!” Saeyoung chirped.  “First we need to do your nails!”

Saeran looked doubtfully at his hands.  He’d been doing better about biting his nails, but they still didn’t look great.  “I don’t know that there’s anything you can do to fix them,” he said, holding up a hand.

“Never fear!” Saeyoung exclaimed.  “Vanderwood, in my closet there’s a blue box.  Would you bring it out here?”  

When Vanderwood returned, Saeyoung hummed softly as he opened the box, keeping the lid just closed enough that Saeran couldn’t look inside.  

Saeran knew his brother was up to something, but when the bottle of mint-green nail polish appeared, Saeran found his limit in this whole affair.

“Oh, no!  You are not painting my nails!”

“Well of course not!  Your nails are a wreck!  I’m painting the fake nails we’re putting on over your nails.  This color is perfect!  It’ll match your eyes, and trust me, men notice eyes!”  Saeyoung pulled out a long, white box.  “We don’t have time to do acrylics, so we’ll have to make do with the press on nails.  These stick pretty well.  They’ll probably last a few days.”  

“Days!?  Saeyoung, I am NOT wearing those!”

“Yes, you are,” Vanderwood chimed in.  “You’re the reason he’s hurt, now stop bitching and sit down.”

“This is so great!” Saeyoung squealed.  “I get to paint my brother’s nails!”  

“Shut up before I make sure your foot is broken,” Saeran growled.

“Oh, now, that’s no way to talk to me when I’m just trying to make sure you’re beautiful!”

Saeran scowled as the nails were applied.  He grumbled as they were painted.  Thankfully, Saeyoung used some sort of fast-drying polish, but now his hands felt strange, and he couldn’t hold anything.  This was not what he expected when he offered to stand in tonight!

Next came the dress.  That part was, thankfully, less odd.  Saeran still hated the petticoats and the way the fabric just kept moving every time he took a step.

“Wig before or after?” Vanderwood asked Saeyoung.

“After, of course!  We don’t want any makeup in the wig,” Saeyoung answered.

“Oh god, makeup?”

“Well, yes,” Saeyoung responded.  “You kind of look like a guy in a dress right now.  We have to do makeup, the bra, and the wig still.  Then,” he squealed in delight again, “My little brother will be a beautiful maiden!”

Saeran looked at Vanderwood.  Tapping two of the fingernails together experimentally he asked, “Can these go through skin?”

Vanderwood snorted.  “I understand the sentiment, but no.  Get your makeup done.”  

Saeran flopped onto the cushion in front of Saeyoung with a disgusted grunt.

“Oh, no no, you can’t flop around like that.  You have to sit gracefully!” Saeyoung rebuked.

Saeran bit his tongue and let his brother apply what felt like pounds of goop to his face.  He couldn’t believe some women did this every day.  It was gross and made his nose itch.

“Stand up,” Vanderwood ordered after the makeup was applied.  He eyed Saeran’s chest critically.

Saeran had a moment of confusion when he felt like Vanderwood shouldn’t be looking at his chest like that.  He squeaked in horror when Vanderwood reached up and squeezed… wait, it’s not a real boob, Saeran reminded himself.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to fill you out a little.  Don’t worry, it won’t show.”  Vanderwood left the room.

“What does he mean ‘fill me out’?” Saeran asked, wondering if he wanted to know.

“He means your bust isn’t sitting right.  You need more top up top!  Vandy is great at that sort of thing.  He knows just how to make sure you have a rack to be proud of!”  Saeyoung grinned his appreciation of his partner at Saeran.

“I don’t want a rack, to be proud of, or otherwise,” Saeran growled.  “You set me up.  You knew what this mission was and you knew what I’d have to do. Don’t think I’m going to let you get out of paying for this.”  

Saeyoung looked up sadly.  “But, I thought you wanted to help, to make up for hurting me?”

“Help, not … not this!”

“Here,” Vanderwood said, returning.  “This will fix it.”  He reached into the top of the dress and shoved something into the heavily padded bra.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Saeran gasped, pulling away and covering his chest with his arms.

“Oooh!  He’s discovering his ladylike modesty!” Saeyoung crooned.  “It’s so wonderful!”

“Shut up, Seven,” Vanderwood snapped.  “We’re barely getting to pull this thing off anyway thanks to you being such a clutz.”

Saeran stood still, out of sheer gratitude that Saeyoung had been silenced for a moment, as Vanderwood felt him up like a cut of meat at the market.

Finally satisfied with the rest of Saeran’s appearance, Vanderwood slicked his hair back with gel and put the wig on him.  A little spirit glue ensured that it wouldn’t fall off.  Then the lace choker and bands were tied into place.

Vanderwood gave Saeran a critical sweep with his eyes before saying, “Turn around, see what Saeyoung thinks about it.”  

Saeran did at he was bid, only to face his brother looking like he was about to swoon.

“I can’t believe it,” Saeyoung sniffed dramatically.  “My baby brother, all grown up and looking like a princess’s maid, if not a princess himself!  He’s so beautiful!”

“When I get back,” Saeran promised, “I will kill you.”

“Bet I’m faster on crutches than you are on heels!” Saeyoung laughed.

“Heels?”  Saeran gave Vanderwood a withering look.

“No, not heels.  I don’t need you both laying around with messed up ankles.  You can wear these instead.  Just be careful.  They’re proper patent leather.  They will show the reflection of what’s up your skirt,” Vanderwood explained, holding out a pair of mary janes.

“Let them look,” Saeran muttered.  “Serves them right.”  

#saeran #saeyoung #Vanderwood #Maid-Saeran

[chaoticquips]

The Other Wally West

I heard you weren’t feeling too good @linklyshow !! Also it sucks to hear your tablet died (This is based from that Coraline AU I was talking about a while ago!)

It’s strangely warm on the roof. 

He likes to come out here when he’s at home- at home-home, but... Well. He’s sort of trapped at the moment and he isn’t sure how he feels about it yet. 

“Always a catch, huh?” He thumbs the head of the buttoned-eyed ferret from his bedroom and it wiggles a bit in his hands. It doesn’t move after that, as still and lifeless as it looks. A sigh pulls his face into a frown.

The buttons unnerve him. Just... Wally’s always liked his eyes. His mother (his real mother) told them they were his best feature (despite the many science awards proudly lining his bedroom shelves). They were the first thing people commented on other than his flaming hair, they were what made him... Wally, almost. 

He’s stared into too many mirrors with puffed, red eyes surrounding that patented West green that it almost feels like cheating to just get rid of them. To just forget the past and the present and the pain so easily. And the way They looked, so eager and hungry after dinner for him to say yes, it... 

It unnerved him just a little too much. He went to bed earlier than he ever had before (and without dinner, of all things!) and woke up stiff, unsettled, and still here. 

So he climbed onto the roof in the dead of night. It should have been cold enough to warrant his sweater but instead the entire world was warm and foggy. Just humid enough that it felt as if he reached out to grab it, it would melt through his fingers like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. Or maybe it was just his nerves making his fingers feel a little jittery, his palms a little sweaty. 

He puts the ferret down, where it waits still as a board at his side, as he chucks off the stifling pajama shirt he was wearing. He barely feels a difference. Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he figures he should cut it soon.

A sharp, sweet wolf whistle flies through the air. Wally whips around to see the Other Neighbor Boy, who he’d dubbed Robin. The real version of the boy decided against telling Wally his name at all, always diverting the question or laughing it off like it was some sort of big joke. Whatever. He whistled and twittered like a robin in this world anyway, so it seemed fitting enough. 

“Need something?” Robin grinned like a feline and worked his way nimbly to the other boy from the other side of the roof. He plopped down next to him, button eyes glinting slightly in the moonlight. 

“...Yes?” Robin simply reached over with one of his fucking weird noiseless giggles and dragged a finger across Wally’s pectoral, only to flinch back like he’d been burned with a coy smile on his face. Wally flushed, neck turning red along with his face. 

“Oh, hah hah, very funny.” Wally reached to pull his shirt back on only to find it missing. Turning back showed Robin dangling it in his fingers over the roof edge. “...Um. Dude, can I have my shirt back?” 

Robin drops it off the roof. Wally doesn’t even want to think about weird, magical doll people right now, let alone have one blatantly hit on him while it looks like that kinda cute neighbor boy. 

On the other hand, there is the implication that, hypothetically, it’s acting off base personality and its doing what the other boy, hypothetically, would do under the same circumstances, but-

“Jokes on you, I hated it anyway.” But based off their earlier interactions, he’s not so sure. This world was apparently made to his tastes, maybe he just wants someone to be interested in him. Maybe this isn’t really... anything at all. It’s just what he wants from him. 

Robin sits close to him, letting their thighs touch. He shoots him a frown and Robin tilts his head inquisitively.

“I came out here to be away from you all. Why don’t you just go already?” Wally’s blocking the window from where he’s sitting, as Robin literally points out to him. 

“Well, figure something else out! You’re supposed to be smart, right? Why don’t you, I don’t know, jump off the roof or something?” Robin shrugs, standing up and perching on the edge of the roof. In the brief second he has, Wally panics.

“Wait! I didn’t mean literally-!” But Robin is already flipping off with a wide mouth open in a grin. He’d probably be whooping and hollering if he had a voice to do so with. Wally scrambles to look over the edge and is met face to face with shiny black buttons. “Gah!”

He reels back as a single, illuminated daisy is thrust into his chest, falling on his butt. He lets out a groan and flops over the rest of the way so he can look up at the night sky. He’d forgotten there was a tree right underneath his room with big, gnarly branches that could easily break someone’s fall.

Oh, and that this whole world is a fabricated mess of magic. Nobody is really supposed to die here, considering it’s supposed to be his happy place. Duh. 

He lifts his head up to look at Robin, who’s watching him, hand to his mouth, and shaking with silent giggles from the roof ledge.

“Is this a joke to you?” He drops his head without bothering to look at the other boy’s- doll’s- reaction and sighs again. “Does it even matter, anyway?” He mumbles.The flower’s stem feels odd as he rolls it in his fingers. He closes his eyes and listens to the rustles of clothing, of Robin moving to lay down next to him. He feels a body, but no warmth. 

It’s quiet. Wally never did well with quiet for very long. So he turns his head to the side and sees Robin laying half a foot away, petting his ferret almost absently on his chest. 

“...Did it hurt?” Wally whispers. It almost feels taboo to ask, like he isn’t supposed to really question the inner workings of this world, but Wally is a scientist through and through. He can’t help it. Robin only looks at him curiously again. “Your voice. You never answered me earlier, did it... did it hurt you, when they took out your voice?” 

Robin stares at him. 

“Did... does anything here matter at all? I mean, why should I go back home?” And there he goes, set off by one question he’s thought too much about that brings up the others. “It’s not like my parents really care that, you know, that I’m even here at all!” He sits up, suddenly angry. 

“Hell, they didn’t even try to listen to me about this place, they thought it was such a joke. Like I was-! ...Maybe I should just sew buttons into my eyes and be done with people who don’t even care about what I do.” There’s nothing to stop him, so he keeps going. Robin sits up and lets the ferret run off him. 

“Would anybody even care if I just dropped off the face of the planet to live the rest of my life in a magical doll house?! Would, would it even matter if, I just-” He pulls his knees to his chest and hides his face. 

“I’m just... I’m just stupid ol’ Wally West. I’m not nearly special enough to warrant this kind of attention, I just-” He chokes back a sniffle but can’t help the tears that start to fall down his face. “I just, I... I want to say yes so badly. But I can’t! I can’t because there’s something wrong and something is always wrong, but I just can’t let it go this time because,” He sniffs, “Because it feels really wrong and I, I’m so fucking scared, why am I scared-?” He stops before his voice starts to turn into that embarrassing whine he slips into when he’s truly upset and lets himself shut down for a minute. Sobbing quietly into his arms, he feels Robin shift closer. A hand on his back.

“God,” A rough whisper,  “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this! You can’t answer me, you can’t even talk-” He pulls at his hair and whips around to face the other boy and grip his shoulders. “I don’t even know your real name!” 

Robin stares at him. Wally stares back and feels something shift in his stomach. It...feels different this time, the way Robin’s looking at him. He looks more like the neighbor boy in the real world in this moment than the silly, playful doll that was supposed to be Wally’s cute escort around this world. Such a serious expression on him has Wally trying to swallow his snot and ask, “What?”

A gloved hand reaches out to wipe away tears before taking both of his cheeks in his hands. Wally sighs and closes his eyes, letting more tears fall out when he realizes its just... trying to complete its overall objective. Be some sort of pseudo boyfriend and make him feel good. It doesn’t act on its own volition. why would it? 

“Are you even real? Or are you just another figment of my imagination or something. Another cry for help that... that no one will ever hear.” He lets out a little huff of a laugh and looks to the side. “Hell, am I even real anymore? Am I dreaming? If I said yes... if I said yes, would anyone even remember me? Or would I just... disappear like I was never there at all?” He doesn’t know why he’s bothering. Its cold, button eyes just reflect bits of Wally’s face back to him. He can’t tell if there’s any sort of recognition at all. He looks dead to Wally. 

Robin moves a hand to his thigh, still staring at him. Wally lets out a sudden snarl of frustration and shakes the other boy- doll’s- shoulders again. 

“Say something! Just say something already! I want you to talk! Please! Just... Just be normal for a few minutes, ok? Stop trying to-” He feels Robin wiggling his fingers across his leg and he stifles a yelp when he goes into his pant’s pocket before pulling out-

“Hey! Give that back!” His polaroid of him and Uncle Barry at the STAR Labs Tech Museum, two birthdays ago. It very well could be the most valuable thing he owns. 

“Would you just, stop it!” He makes a lunge for it, only to hit Robin’s body with his own chest when the doll doesn’t move. He acts like such a solid deadweight that it winds Wally slightly. Robin is keeping his arm back, holding the photo away from Wally, precariously dangling between two fingers. 

“Why... why cant you just... stop being so fucking weird for a minute?!” He yells at him. Wally freezes. 

“I... oh god, I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.” There’s almost a sad look on Robin’s face as he pushes Wally to sit back. He pulls Wally’s hand out and places the photo in it, facing Wally, before pointing to Barry. 

“That’s Uncle Barry.” Wally mumbles, still embarrassed about yelling. “What about him?”

Robin points to it again, being careful that his gloves don’t scratch it, before leaning forward and putting his hand right where Wally’s heart was. It takes Wally a second. 

“...Oh.” Of course Uncle Barry would miss him. Of course he- they would. Wally never felt anything less than pure elation when he got to spend a weekend at Aunt Iris’s house. They would notice and... Wally loves that about them. They care. They’d probably believe him if he told them about this world, but not in the way an adult cares about a little kid’s imaginary friend. They really would.

“Oh.” He whispers again, a fresh new batch of tears coming out of his eyes. If I had buttons, I don’t even think I’d be able to cry, he thinks to himself. He takes one last look at the wild, happy grins they have in the photo before looking back up to Robin who’s got his head tilted again with that stupidly cute smile that the real one has. “I think I understand what you mean, now. I’m, uh, I’m sorry I thought you were, uh-” 

He’s cut off when Robin suddenly leans forward and presses a small peck to his cheek. He feels a flush on his neck again when he watches Robin look away shyly. He’d probably be blushing if he could, too. “Was that...?” There’s no answer, the other boy pointedly looking away from Wally and fiddling his hands with what has to be the cutest pout Wally has seen on anything before.

He puts the picture of Uncle Barry back into his pocket and is hit with the realization that even if he did want to go back home now, he has no idea how to get there because he woke up still here. He tells Robin so. 

Robin stares at him. 

Wally stares back, then lets a small little smile out. “Well, at least I’m stuck here with you. You’re not so bad, actually. I could get used to the whole not talking thing, I think, but maybe they could fix it so you could-” 

Suddenly Robin’s face warps into a painful expression and he vigorously shakes his head no, ripping himself away from Wally to hide his face in his hands. 

“Robin? What’s wrong?” He pulls Robin’s hands away from his face only to see the most distraught, warped look he’s seen on the doll before. He gasps softly and Robin pulls Wally’s hand to lay over his chest where his heart should be. 

Right. Right, there’s something horribly wrong with this world and... and Robin was sent to look after and take care of him while he was here, after all. He would tell Wally if there was something wrong... wouldn’t he? 

Unless he couldn’t. 

“Robin?” 

The boy pulls off his glove, shaking in strange, jerky manners like he was crying. He lets the sand and dust fall from his sleeve until the only thing left sticking out of his wrist is half a black key. He sniffs while Wally takes a closer look.

“The key! How did you get that from her? Wait, what am I saying, you’re such a sneaky little snitch I bet it wasn’t even a problem, huh?” The awful look on his face is replaced with a tiny, sad smile as he pushes his arm forward to Wally, who plucks the key from him. A bit of sand flicks out and scatters on the roof. 

“I... Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, but... something’s not right here, isn’t it? If I stay... If I stay, something bad will happen to me, huh?” 

Robin nods. He stands and shoves his glove back on his hand so the sand stops leaking out, but it looks mildly deformed now that its half full. He pulls Wally up and leads him back into the house, carefully creeping in the hallways and takes him to the tiny door that sits innocently in the sitting room. 

They kneel in front of it. Robin reaches forward to open the door but Wally stops him by grabbing his wrist. 

“Come with me. They... they’ll hurt you again.” Robin looks at him, eerily still before removing Wally’s hand. He unlocks the door and the draft that blows back into their faces has Wally shivering, wishing he had his shirt. 

Footsteps on the ceiling makes them jump. 

“Wally? It’s late, what are you doing, sweetie?” The voice comes from upstairs. Wally feels a cold shiver travel down his spine. They need to go, now. 

“Come on!” He tugs at Robin but the boy stubbornly refuses to go. Robin sighs sadly, leaning forward to press one last kiss to Wally’s cheek. Wally takes the opportunity to hug him, and when he pulls away Robin roughly shoves him through the door. He takes off his deformed hand and tosses it over to Wally while sand rapidly escapes his arm. 

“No, please-!” The last thing he sees is Robin’s sad smile before the door is slammed in his face. He can still hear the footsteps of his Other Mother coming, so he books it to the other side of the dark tunnel. 

When he crawls back into his house in the middle of the night, he pulls on Robin’s glove that just barely fits his hand and takes a deep breath. His skin prickles. 

It’s strangely cold in his house.

When Wally crawls back into the tunnel- fed, rested and prepared for war, you parent stealing bastards- he comes across a small pile of sand that has seeped in from underneath the door. Stomach sinking, he trails a finger through it and feels his breath hitch. When he opens up the door, there’s two things on the ground in front of him.

One empty, crumbled glove and two heeled feet. 

“Welcome home, dear.” 

#superheroes #dc #wally west #fics #my work #birdflash #i was watching coraline with my brother and?? #it fit wally so well idk #in this au I have dick as wybie but he's much more aloof about who he is #always wearing sunglasses #never telling wally his name #mostly because he's a rich boy but yknow #no superheroes in this world unfortunately #wally and his family move out next to the wayne vacation home whoops #also wally lowkey gay for mysterious neighbor boy? #you bet your ass he is #he may only show up once in a blue moon but hell if he isn't cute about it #wally will deny the crush he has on dick but lets be real in like three years theyll be boyfriends

[amberandmetal]

Obeying Daddy

Author: @waywardkitten Featuring: Dean Winchester x F!reader Warnings: Daddy!kink, oral sex F recieving Rating: Explicit Word count: 1306 

“Aouch, jeezuz fuck!” I put my bleeding middle finger in my mouth, gently sucking on it. “Shit”

I held the fresh cut under ice cold running water over the sink, scrambling around in a drawer with my other hand looking for a band aid or something.After I was all bandaged up and I’d checked so it didn’t leak I went back to cutting up the vegetables at the counter. “Hey”

Warm hands snaked around my waist and pulled me into a tight embrace. A soft smile appeared on my lips. I hummed happily in reply, focused on not cutting up another finger with the sharp knife. Dean leaned over my shoulder sniffing appreciatively. “It smells amazing, babygirl”

I felt a light blush cover my cheeks at the petname. I hoped it would go unnoticed but since when did anything get past the Winchester? “Such a sweet girl”, he hummed and nuzzled the back of my ear, peppering the nape of my neck with wet soft kisses.

“D-dean, I can’t-” “Is that how you address me? Really?”, he chuckled lowly against my neck. I swallowed hard, willing my hand to stop shaking. “..Daddy. I can’t. The food will burn”, I squeaked when his hands came up under my shirt grazing my bare chest with featherlight touches.

“We can’t have that now, can we?”, he whispered in my hair. His voice was low and filled with lust. I could feel every fiber of my body starting to heat up.

“Keep doing what you’re doing, babygirl. But you are not allowed to move or make a sound”, he singsonged the last part while teasingly pinching a nipple, effectively making me whimper.He pinched harder. “What did I just say? Can you follow orders and be good for your Daddy, kitten?” I bit my lip and hummed in agreement. He pinched harder making me shout out in pain. “Use your words like a good girl” “Y-yes. Yes, Daddy” He chuckled and let his big hands wander down my waist, hips and thighs excruciatingly slow. I couldn’t help myself but to cant my hips and press my ass back against him. “Ah ah ah, you be good now”, he purred, softly biting the sensitive skin beneath my ear. I gasped and shuddered, biting down a moan. I could do this, I would obey. He bunched up the fabric of my maxi skirt in his hands pulling it up to my thighs before he slowly lowered himself down, kissing and nipping through my shirt everywhere he could get at. When he was finally on his knees he made to sit between my legs with his back against the counter.I looked down at him wide eyed. “Relax..”, he spoke softly, running his hands up and down my calves “Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you”

I gulped and turned my focus back to the food I still hadn’t finished chopping up.He took his time making his way up to my thighs, slowly firmly kneading and stroking every part of skin before him. By the time he was mere inches away from where I needed him I was wet and throbbing. Of course that’s when he stopped.I looked down at him with what I can only imagine was a extremely flustered and frustrated expression. He peered back at me with a mischievous glint in those emerald greens. “Remember: not a sound.” And that was all the warning I got before he shoved my panties aside and licked one long stripe over my soaked core. He didn’t delve in but kept on the outside, teasing me to the brink of madness. I had to put the knife down and brace myself on the counter with both hands. My head hung and it was all I could do not to simply slump down on him. But I wanted to be good for him, be a good girl.I looked down at him again through hooded eyelids. He let his fingers graze against my slit, coating his fingers in my slick.His eyes shot up, locking with mine before he slowly licked each finger clean. He let the final finger go with a loud pop. “So delicious, babygirl” I couldn’t help it, I let out a soft whimper. It was just too much. I gasped as a hard hand landed on my bare ass with a loud crack. “If you don’t obey, you get punished. Is that understood?” His voice was dark and stern.Tears stung at my eyes but I nodded enthusiastically with a small smile.He smirked and rubbed the red mark blossoming up on my left cheek, soothing the pain away. “There’s my good girl”, he purred and returned a thumb to my clit, rubbing feather light circles. Not nearly enough to get me what I so badly wanted but enough to drive me close to insanity.Without pardon he let go of my ass and took a firm hold on both my thighs and buried his face between my legs. My back arched and I violently threw my head back in a gasp. He let the skirt fall down around him so I couldn’t see him anymore and went to work.He alternated between hard and long drags with his tongue all the way from my hole to my clit and soft fast flicks over my aching bundle of nerves. I gripped the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles turned white and for a moment I was afraid I’d might actually break something. The no sounds-rule was beginning to be a real problem as I slowly lost more and more control.I grabbed at his head through the fabric of my skirt with desperate hands. “No, baby. Both hands on the counter..”, he hushed. “And not a sound, not one until you come and then I want to hear every sweet sound from that beautiful mouth of yours” I let go of his head and grabbed the counter as instructed.The pads of two fingers slowly began to circle my entrance and my hips started to move of their own volition, bucking and jutting against those plump lips I loved so much.He pushed both fingers inside as he gave my clit a hard suck and I had to bite my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from moaning.He curled his fingers, searching for that sweet spot inside and when he found it I almost made his head smack back at the counter with how hard my hips bucked. 

I hardly registered the amused chuckle from between my legs.He gave a light suck to each of my lips before sucking my clit in between his lips and giving it fast flicks with the tip of his tongue. I almost blacked out right there. I could feel that knot tying up in my lower abdomen and I began to shamelessly ride his face. “Oh-oh Daaaddyy!”, I threw my head back with a wail, shaking violently to the point of convulsing.

He held me up in an iron grip of my thighs relentless in his administrations.My vision went black and my blood rushed and pulsated in my ears as I moaned and cried out until I could hardly stand up anymore. He finished with a soft loving kiss to my folds, nuzzling his nose where it met my thigh.He hoisted the fabric up and crawled out, coming up behind me before turning me around in his arms. “You were very good for me, kitten”, he whispered lowly in my ear. 

I was like putty in his arms, barely unable to stand on my own. “I think you deserve a reward later”, he chuckled thrusting his hard erection against my stomach.I sighed happily against his shoulder, completely spent. 

Yet, i could hardly wait. 

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#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn smut #oneshot #smut