#namely that living forever sounds like a nightmare and being stuck with one person forever even more of a nightmare

[snowfll]

Forever Winter; Treech

pairing - victor!Treech x district7!reader summary - after Treech wins the 10th Hunger Games, he returns home but he isn’t the same boy you knew before. words - 1.58k warning - allusions to suicide and depression. note - I'm so sorry this took me forever to get out, finals are coming up and I am stressing. I have a treech fic coming out on wattpad soon, so go follow me @ snowfll.

The moment his name was called in the reaping, your entire world froze. You both were 18; it being the last year there was a chance either of you were chosen to be tributes. You thought you were safe, that the two of you would be able to live the rest of your lives in peace—well, as peaceful as you can get in District 7. You were wrong—very wrong.

“Now, time for the male tribute,” the mayor called out as he stuck his hand into the second bowl. “Treech.” Everything in the district went silent; the only thing heard was your gasp, which soon turned into tears.

His eyes were on you the entire time as he walked up the stage—it felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. As he stood there, the weight of the impending separation hung heavy in the air. That was the last time you saw him in person; as soon as the reaping ended, he had been dragged off the stage by peacekeepers.

For the next few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to go to work; instead, you found yourself sitting in front of one of the few TVs in the district. After being told they would show the games on live television this year, you prayed to see even a glimpse of him.

When the tribute interviews came on, you were finally able to see Treech. He looked paler and skinnier than usual, and he had a sad expression on his face. Looking around, he saw the camera pointing directly at him and began to fidget with his hat, the one you had gotten him a few years prior to keep the sun out of his face when working.

He wore it every day, claiming it was his good luck charm and comfort object. You noticed he would play with the rim whenever he was nervous or he was the main focus of a conversation. Treech never liked attention—opting to hang out with you in a secluded part of the forest as opposed to being with his large group of friends.

“So, let’s talk about your life back in District 7. You’ve caught the eyes of many capital ladies in your short time here.” The man, known as Lucky, paused as the crowd began to scream for Treech. “We are all wondering, and when I say that, I mean everyone—is there a special lady waiting on you back home?”

"Uhh, there is this one girl, but we aren’t together—yet. She is amazing, truly. If there is one thing that can motivate me through the games, it would be her.” You smiled, knowing he was talking about you. He was never interested in other girls, no matter how many times they tried to get with him. Lucky thanked him before welcoming the next tribute on stage.

The following morning marked the first day of the Hunger Games, and you refused to watch; you couldn’t watch as he fought for his life. You had nightmares, starting the day he left—watching the games would just confirm everything you saw.

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When you heard the news, you were ecstatic—he did it; he won. The prospect of him returning to the district that very day filled you with a sense of exhilaration. Anticipation built as you made your way to the train station, the sound of the train arriving growing louder with each step. The atmosphere was filled with a mix of emotions—relief, nervousness, and agitation.

Although this was bound to be a happy moment, you couldn’t help but realize the lack of people who came to greet him. The only people around were the peacekeepers standing guard and his younger sister, Talia, whom you brought along as a surprise. Treech was very close with Talia; with his parents having to work all day, they were absent most of their lives. This left him to take care of both himself and his sister.

As you caught sight of him, you took notice of the train, which seemed to be one owned by the capital rather than the ones used by the districts. The condition he was in was worse than you last saw in the interview. He wore new and improved clothing that bore the unmistakable mark of Capitol fashion—his lucky hat still on his head. The scars of the arena were evident as he was bandaged up in all kinds of places.

Approaching him, you could see the fatigue etched into his features—a weariness that went beyond his physical wounds. Once he saw you, he ran into your arms, taking off his hat as his head fell into the crook of your neck.

“Everything is okay; you are safe now,” you reassured him, playing with his hair in an attempt to calm him. The weight of his exhaustion seemed to lift slightly in the security of your arms, the familiar touch offering comfort amid the distress of the games.

Talia stood nearby, her eyes wide with awe and concern. The two of you shared a glance, silently acknowledging the shared responsibility felt toward Treech’s well-being.

Gently pulling away from the embrace, Treech’s eyes met yours, filled with gratitude and longing. With a tender smile, you motioned for Talia to join in the reunion. She approached the two of you cautiously, as if afraid to ruin the moment between the older ‘couple’ in front of her. Yet, as Treech brought her into a protective hug, her smile grew—she had her brother back.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Everything from that day on was perfect—or at least that's what it seemed like. Treech walked around with a smile on his face, like nothing ever happened. His laugh was normal; no matter how hard the day was, his symphony-like laugh always managed to cheer you up. You should’ve known something was wrong—how could you not know?

You found yourself observing him more closely, trying to distinguish the subtle shifts in his demeanor. Late at night, when the district fell silent, he was awake, wishing it was how it used to be before the games.

One evening, as the two of you walked through the familiar forests, you found the courage to check up on him. “Treech, are you really okay? I mean, with everything that went down. It’s okay if you are hiding your feelings; you can trust me."

He paused, his smile seeming to fade, before he replied, “I have a feeling I am going to feel this way forever. It’s not just a phase.”

You wondered how you hadn't seen it earlier—how the façade of normalcy had masked the emotional turmoil that lay beneath the surface. The entire time, you thought he was fine, living his life as a victor, when in reality he was breaking down.

From that moment on, your commitment to Treech deepened. Days were spent deciphering the intricate puzzles in his head. Once you started to spend the nights at his, you really noticed what was happening.

The quiet darkness of his room served as a canvas for the grim thoughts that occupied his mind. On the bed beside him, you were sound asleep as he sat restlessly against the headboard. As dawn approached, you woke up to find him in the same position he was in before he fell asleep—he was motionless.

Scared something happened to him, you shook his body, ultimately waking him up from his trance. His eyes, glazed over with a distant emptiness, gradually refocused on the room around him.

You spoke softly, the concern evident in your voice, “Treech, are you okay? What happened?”

He hesitated as if struggling to find the right words to convey the complexity of his emotions. Finally, he let out a heavy exhale, one that carried the weight of the night. “I… I don’t know. It’s just… hard, you know?” In that instant, the vulnerability in his confession broke down the wall that kept you at a distance.

Gently, you reassured him, "You don’t have to carry this burden alone. I will love you even at your darkest, so please don’t go.” You don’t know what you would do without him; his few days of absence have already taken a huge toll on you. Even while having him back, you still fall to pieces on the floor if he isn’t around.

The sincerity in your voice seemed to pierce through the fog of his inner turmoil, offering a lifeline in the face of the darkness that threatened to consume him. His hesitance around you melted away, replaced by a shared understanding that you were in it together.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me,” Treech confessed, his voice filled with the same vulnerability he had a few moments ago. “I don’t want to go. I need you more than you can imagine. You brighten up my day—like the sun shining down through the trees.” With those words, you wrapped your arms around him, drawing him into a comforting embrace.

From that day onward, your connection deepened. Your love, like the gentle rays of a summer sun, thawed at the icy remainders of his nagging memories. There were still difficult days and haunted nights, but the assurance that he wasn’t alone in the journey provided him with the power to push through. The summer sun, your sun, illuminated his path, casting away the shadows of his past and lighting up your future, where your love went beyond even the darkest of winters—his forever winter.

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #treech #treech tbosas #treech x reader #i love treech #angst #angst with a happy ending #thg #fanfic #oneshot #fluff #x reader #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #forever winter #taylor swift

[dr-reversebeartrap]

Allison Gordon picking up Zepp’s phone and calling back a trapped Adam

Saw 2004 canon divergence

More of a list of ideas than an actual fic even if it sort of looks like one but I can’t be bothered to make this into proper english… In the meantime bon appetit

It’s late in the morning when Allison Gordon goes back to her own house and finds Zepp’s phone in her living room. The police must have missed it. She doesn’t really think about it before she calls back the last number he’d been in communication with.

"I’m gonna kill your husband now, mrs Gordon."

She’s hoping Lawrence will reply.

It beeps five times. She keep listening, what else is there for her to do.

Somebody picks up.

Immediately she cries out "Lawrence! Can you hear me?"

Between the sound’s cracks, she hears the wails of a raspy voice. It isn’t her husband but a whole new problem.

Fight had never left her nervous system and in an instant adrenaline is back too.

"Where is Lawrence? Where’s my husband? Answer me, you monster!"

The man on the phone tells her he doesn’t know where Lawrence is, that he’s gone. That he shot him and that he left… Something happened to his foot but she can’t quite make it out with the way her phone distorts the scared voice of the young man who’s now pleading for help between wet sobs.

"Where are you? Is Adam with you?"

"That’s me!! That’s me!!" he shouts like hearing his own name and being recognized made him feel like a little bit more of a person again. "I’m chained, Mrs Gordon…"

Her anger dissolves into fear as he begs her again not to end the call.

He can’t tell her where he is, only that he’s chained in some disgusting bathroom just like Lawrence had said. It’s pitch black and there’s a dead guy with me, well a new dead guy. He cries telling her it smells bad, in reference to the stench of decaying flesh. She presses the palm of her hand into her eyes and holds her breath to avoid him hearing her starting to cry while he gets sick.

She tries to pacify him, shushing him, sometimes almost singing to him. Like he’s just having a nightmare and not living one.

She stays on call with him for hours but the phone doesn’t have much battery left.

It’s like she’s stuck in there with him. She doesn’t want to leave him alone. He told her they had light earlier but now he doesn’t anymore.

Adam doesn’t let her call the cops at first, too afraid of being abandoned again. Once she does call them, it feels like forever until they decide to show up.

They try to interrogate him but the boy is far from coherent. They can’t countain him and manage to freak him out further, up to the point they hear him put the phone down and start banging his fists against the floor out of frustration.

Allison put a stop to it by taking the phone back. Detective Kerry shrugs in acceptance. Let the poor guy have a break. It might not be the healthiest letting another victim handle this but all things considered…

Adam begs Allison not to leave again.

At times panic overtakes him, he starts shouting and sobbing into the receiver… others he gets so quiet it might be catatonia.

He asks her if he’s gonna die and Allison promises they will find him.

He calls her a liar, a liar like Larry.

Not long afterwards, he melts into apologies for getting angry at her and tells her to tell his mom that he’s sorry.

She doesn’t know what else to say to comfort him so she tells him over and over again that they will find him. She needs to hear herself say these words to him as much as she needs him to believe them. She has no way to know for certain but she needs them to be found, Adam and Lawrence both.

They stay on like this for a long time before Adam’s phone finally dies.

#saw 2004 #saw #allison gordon #adam faulkner stanheight #adam faulkner #adam stanheight #sawposting #drrbt talks #Nota bene in this AU they do find him thats my only request #also i would like to express more of how allisons fucked up by her evening and ongoing trauma and missing husband rn but thts wat u get rn #first night she had to be delirious #alison gordon

[itsmalachitenow]

MORE CHUCK HEADCANONS!

You guys seemed to really like my last post, so I'm sharing the other headcanons I've gathered for my personal take on Chuck since then. Get ready for angst!

Chuck did, in fact, hit Gus with the Ghost Train. It was an accident, and to this day he's incredibly broken up about it. Gus, on the other hand, isn't nearly as upset about being dead. He will, however, use his death to guilt Chuck into doing things for him because he knows just how awful Chuck feels about it. Any time Gus wants a new game system or toy, if Chuck isn't too keen on getting it for him, Gus will just bring up that Chuck ran him over and now he's stuck here, and Chuck will look utterly miserable as he climbs into his wheelchair to leave the Ghost Station.

Chuck is very talented at many different types of instruments, including but not limited to: piano, trumpet, saxophone, violin, harp, french horn, clarinet, cello, and oboe.

He can also sing very well. He is a baritone.

Chuck's true full name is Carlo Toscanini. He prefers the Chuck nickname, though, because it sounds like a train noise. He likes train noises!

Because he's been alone for so long, Chuck is incredibly self conscious about needing any kind of help because he's disabled. Especially when he's in his chair. The idea of being helped and not having to do it all himself is completely foreign to him, and he absolutely abhors the idea of needing to rely on someone else to help him do what he sees as 'basic things'. He would rather struggle by himself than swallow his pride and ask a loved one to get involved.

Related: If you touch this man's wheelchair without asking him first, he is going to run you over with it.

Chuck will never finish his 'magnum opus'. He is a perfectionist, and hasn't had what he considers a 'good' piece in decades because he's constantly going back and changing them, never satisfied with the results. Even if he does finish a musical composition or opera, he will always find some fault with them afterwards and not want to dwell on them. Being alone for so long with no real audience for his works other than Gus (who doesn't really understand or care as much because he's a kid) means he's his only critic, and he will always be his worst critic.

Chuck makes his own coffee and is a total snob about drinking anyone else's. It tastes like diesel, but it'll keep you awake for three days straight.

This man does not have a consistent schedule for anything other than 'work'. Food, sleep, self care, all of it comes second to his job and to his music.

He has chronic insomnia, and horrible nightmares whenever he does drift off to sleep, so Chuck prefers to just keep going for as many days as possible until his body physically cannot stay awake anymore.

Because he's lived so long, Chuck can barely remember any of his early life, and that terrifies him. He remembers the name of his hometown, he remembers he had a father who was a conductor, but everything else is a blur. He can't remember his parents' names, their faces, whether he had siblings or not...those memories are gone forever, and Chuck will never get them back.

His biggest regret is not saying goodbye to his family the night he left to join the Train.

Chuck is also terrified of going back to his hometown, because he knows it will be entirely different from what little he remembers. If he never returns, he can always pretend it's still the way he was when he left it, and ignore the gravity of his choice to join the Ghost Train.

Because he's scared he'll forget other things, Chuck is a compulsive journaler. He writes down the day's events, no matter how trivial, and gives a massive amount of detail about every person he interacts with. He only started doing this about a hundred years ago, once he realized he couldn't remember his family anymore.

Chuck has a small apartment in the Ghost Station. It's small and cramped, but it's a place for him to stay when he's not working, and also for any lovers or loved ones to stay if they're 'living' with him. He has a room entirely dedicated to all of his journals, though the manner of sorting them is known only to Chuck.

#brawl stars chuck #chuck brawl stars #brawl stars #slaps chuck's hat. this bad boy can fit so much angst in him. #my art #my writing

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Who's ready to feel pain again?

Here's an angsty eldrich horror prompt to make you cry <3

Au where Danny is blind and Damians younger twin. He was raised basically being told he was abandoned by his mother for his blindness and that his brother was healthy and happy with her. Meanwhile Danny's life was a living nightmare. No one wanted to adopt a blind kid in a small city like Amity Park, so he stayed stuck in the crappy little orphanage with neglectful caretakers. He hated this place and everyone in it, though he had no doubt his life would be much better if he hadn't been blind.

Danny was killed when a drunk driver purposely ran him over for something as stupid as ableism. Unfortunately, dying as a person with a lot of sorrow and angst in his heart inside Amity Park basically ensured he would become a spirit. That, or it had something to do with the Fentons expiramenting on his corpse.

No one could have known he would be so powerful though. Or that he would be able to "see" after his death. He soon became obsessed with finding the woman who abandoned him in this tiny city in the middle of nowhere and making her pay.

First, he needed a lair. He found out from research -aka possessing his mothers ninjas that felt like her and by extention, himself- that his father was Bruce Wayne- the Batman, and the first time in forever his heart filled with want.

He wanted a father. Someone who was kind and caring and who would protect him. Someone who would want him in turn.

He wanted brothers who would play with him and tease him and teach him him how to be like them.

He wanted sisters who would stand by him and hug him when he had a bad day and help him get away with things he wasn't supposed to be doing.

He wanted a family. The family Talia had cheated him out of. The life Talia had cheated him out of.

So he picked a mansion. A horrible dilapidated old thing, literally half falling apart. One pulse of his core transformed it into a billionaires dream. Everything was pristine as the day it was built. The gardens outside changed from weeds and grass taller than he was to beautiful paved garden paths, forever in full bloom.

This of course drained his energy and he fell asleep, never taking notice of the "For Sale" sign out near the gates

Needless to say, once he awakened he was not amused to see a couple unboxing thier belongings and taking over his home. He just wanted to scare them. He didn't think throwing heavy boxes across the room into thier heads would kill them, but it did. He killed them and there was no going back.

It was only a few hours later that he discovered whoever he killed within his lair would become a ghost.

A weak ghost fully under his control.

So he continued killing the people who moved in, but was sure to always give them a month to move out, signing a warning on thier calenders. Some left. Most didn't though, and became lesser ghosts.

His obsession with the picture perfect family allowed him to develop the power to trap any one person in a painting, but only one person per canvas and he had to have a full view of thier body and he has to do that double L thing with his hands and line them up in the center.

Once he lures his mother home with a mysterious letter addressed to her mentioning her League he wastes no time trapping her and hanging her portrait in the grand entryway.

He did the same with his Father, inviting Bruce Wayne and his wards to speak about someone committing corporate espionage in his company. Danny didn't actually know what that was but it sounded important, and the end goal wasn't to fool them but to get them here. Sadly nothing seemed to go as planned. First Jason snuck into the mansion as Red Hood a week before the planned meeting time and saw something he wasn't supposed to. Namely one of his victims. So he ordered the spirits to pin the startled Jason to the wall as Danny trapped him.

The painting came out better than expected. You could tell he was startled even with his helmet covering his face simply by his body language. The multitude of transparent arms coming through the wall to pin him made the scene all the more haunting.

The bats grew more concerned with each day that passed with no word from Jason and as the day on the invitation grew closer they begin preparing to go in groups. One group goes as civilians and the other sneaking about as vigilantes and trying to find Jason while Alfred and Barbara stayed behind to keep an eye on them and the mansion respectively.

Cue them arriving at the mansion and being forced to play real life Pac-Man and free thier kin from thier paintings while avoiding getting trapped in one themselves.

Eventually one of them discovered they could actually use the furniture around the house as weapons and Danny couldn't phase through it and they told the others about it so they didn't have to keep relying on Jason's unexplained ability to punch ghosts.

Eventually they manage to temporarily defeat Danny and escape the mansion. It was so hard on everyone listening to him sob from where he was pinned on the ground, begging them not to go. Promising to be the best little brother, the best son, he promised to be good.

Bruce took it the hardest. He had failed another of his children but he needed to get the rest of his family out of the sprung trap before the weaker spirits dug Daniel out of the rubble and the mansion is pulled back into that pocket dimension and captured them again. They had been here a while and he was fairly certain his family could go for a round 14 but he wasn't sure they would last beyond that.

So they left. But Bruce silently promised himself he would come back for his son. He kept repeating it over and over in his mind like a mantra to block out his sons desperate cries as they left him behind.

Needless to say the ride back to Gotham was mostly silent as his children processed everything that happened.

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #tw: murder #tw: blood #tw: death #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #damian wayne

[radiance1]

You said you'd make any of our ideas worse right? Here ya go <3

Au where Danny is blind and Damians younger twin. He was raised basically being told he was abandoned by his mother for his blindness and that his brother was healthy and happy with her. Meanwhile Danny's life was a living nightmare. No one wanted to adopt a blind kid in a small city like Amity Park, so he stayed stuck in the crappy little orphanage with neglectful caretakers. He hated this place and everyone in it, though he had no doubt his life would be much better if he hadn't been blind.

Danny was killed when a drunk driver purposely ran him over for something as stupid as ableism. Unfortunately, dying as a person with a lot of sorrow and angst in his heart inside Amity Park basically ensured he would become a spirit.

No one could have known he would be so powerful though. Or that he would be able to "see" after his death. He soon became obsessed with finding the woman who abandoned him in this tiny city in the middle of nowhere and making her pay.

First, he needed a lair. He found out from research -aka possessing his mothers ninjas that felt like her and by extention, himself- that his father was Bruce Wayne- the Batman, and the first time in forever his heart filled with want.

He wanted a father. Someone who was kind and caring and who would protect him. Someone who would want him in turn.

He wanted brothers who would play with him and tease him and teach him him how to be like them.

He wanted sisters who would stand by him and hug him when he had a bad day and help him get away with things he wasn't supposed to be doing.

He wanted a family. The family Talia had cheated him out of. The life Talia had cheated him out of.

So he picked a mansion. A horrible dilapidated old thing, literally half falling apart. One pulse of his core transformed it into a billionaires dream. Everything was pristine as the day it was built. The gardens outside changed from weeds and grass taller than he was to beautiful paved garden paths, forever in full bloom.

This of course drained his energy and he fell asleep, never taking notice of the "For Sale" sign out near the gates

Needless to say, once he awakened he was not amused to see a couple unboxing thier belongings and taking over his home. He just wanted to scare them. He didn't think throwing heavy boxes across the room into thier heads would kill them, but it did. He killed them and there was no going back.

It was only a few hours later that he discovered whoever he killed within his lair would become a ghost.

A weak ghost fully under his control.

So he continued killing the people who moved in, but was sure to always give them a month to move out, signing a warning on thier calenders. Some left. Most didn't though, and became lesser ghosts.

His obsession with the picture perfect family allowed him to develop the power to trap any one person in a painting, but only one person per canvas and he had to have a full view of thier body and he has to do that double L thing with his hands and line them up in the center.

Once he lures his mother home with a mysterious letter addressed to her mentioning her League he wastes no time trapping her and hanging her portrait in the grand entryway.

He did the same with his Father, inviting Bruce Wayne and his wards to speak about someone committing corporate espionage in his company. Danny didn't actually know what that was but it sounded important, and the end goal wasn't to fool them but to get them here. Sadly nothing seemed to go as planned. First Jason snuck into the mansion as Red Hood a week before the planned meeting time and saw something he wasn't supposed to. Namely one of his victims. So he ordered the spirits to pin the startled Jason to the wall as Danny trapped him.

The painting came out better than expected. You could tell he was startled even with his helmet covering his face simply by his body language. The multitude of transparent arms coming through the wall to pin him made the scene all the more haunting.

The bats grew more concerned with each day that passed with no word from Jason and as the day on the invitation grew closer they begin preparing to go in groups. One group goes as civilians and the other sneaking about as vigilantes and trying to find Jason while Alfred and Barbara stayed behind to keep an eye on them and the mansion respectively.

Cue them arriving at the mansion and being forced to play real life Pac-Man and free thier kin from thier paintings while avoiding getting trapped in one themselves.

Eventually one of them discovered they could actually use the furniture around the house as weapons and Danny couldn't phase through it and they told the others about it so they didn't have to keep relying on Jason's unexplained ability to punch ghosts.

Eventually they manage to temporarily defeat Danny and escape the mansion. It was so hard on everyone listening to him sob from where he was pinned on the ground, begging them not to go. Promising to be the best little brother, the best son, he promised to be good.

Bruce took it the hardest. He had failed another of his children but he needed to get the rest of his family out of the sprung trap before the weaker spirits dug Daniel out of the rubble and the mansion is pulled back into that pocket dimension and captures them again. They had been here a while and he was fairly certain his family could/ go for a round 14 but he wasn't sure they would last beyond that.

So they left. But Bruce silently promised himself he would come back for his son. He kept repeating it over and over in his mind like a mantra to block out his sons desperate cries as they left him behind.

Needless to say the ride back to Gotham was mostly silent as his children processed everything that happened.

So, Ra’s Al Ghul hears from Talia that her son -no not Daiman, the blind one- is now an extremely powerful being that reeks of something similar to the pit.

This caught Ra’s attention, thinking that whoever could effectively catch Talia and trap her is someone worthy of notice. Even more so when he finds out it’s the failure that was cast off the League because he was blind.

So, Ra’s gets Talia to confirm any information she has of the boy’s abilities, and the most notable one was his ability to cast anyone into a painting by making a frame with his fingers.

So Ra’s has this whole plan in mind of how to get the boy to his side. By taking advantage of the boy’s young age and his emotional instability, by pretending to be this kind and concerned grandfather figure that was desperately searching for his long lost grandson for so long.

Ra’s Al Ghul doesn’t really have a sense of danger when facing Danny. Because if it comes down to it he can beat him.(Due to dipping and recovering in the Lazarus pit for decades, Ra’s Al Ghul has acquired the ability to harm ghosts, he also made it the same for his sword.)

So Ra’s goes over and plays the whole, kind and concerned grandfather card. Claiming that his daughter has prevented any attempts at locating Danny. And Danny, being emotionally vulnerable because of Batman’s escape and his breakdown, instantly believes Ra’s and starts to resent Taila more.

So at first he tried to trap Ra’s in a picture frame, claiming that he can stay with Danny forever this way. Leading to Ra’s stopping Danny from forming his frame and fighting back the weaker ghosts with ease, and manipulating Danny even more to get him to come with him. Claiming that he can get him what he most desires and that he loves him too much to just stay in a painting unable to hold his grandson.

It works, and so Danny leaves with Ra’s to the League of Assassins.

Now, Ra’s doesn’t tell anyone about him having Danny, not even Talia(As she is part of his mental manipulating material and can’t let the meet lest they form a bond) and no one else knows until later.

With the time that Batman is fully prepared and wants to take his 10 year old son back home to the manor to give him all the love and care he can and then some.

Only to find the lair empty. No signs of life, not even the weaker ghosts that Danny used last time to trap and keep them at bay. This leads to Bruce spiralling thinking that he was too late to save his youngest son and thinking that if only he was faster none of this would have happened.

 Cue over to Ra’s insulting Danny and telling him that he’s lesser. In hopes of lowering Danny’s self-esteem and making him rely on only him and no one else. If Danny cries, Ra’s holds tightly onto a part of Danny’s body and tells him to be quiet.

If Danny snaps and tries to harm Ra’s, he lets himself be hit enough that he can bleed. Then switches back to the kind and concerned grandfather persona and plays the victim card, saying that ‘I’m only doing these things because I love you”’, “Why would you hurt me? I’m just doing what’s best for you” ex cetera, ex cetera. He also says such things while giving Danny physical affection like a hug and the like, making it strike harder that it’s Danny’s fault and that he should have harmed his grandfather in the first place. As he is the only one that loves him.

Danny(being a literal 10 year old) has no choice but to believe Ra’s. Since his mother abandoned him, never cared about him and stopped his ever so kind grandfather from finding him(lie).

His Father never cared for him. He left him alone under a pile of rubble while he desperately begged for him not to go, taking along the children that he  actually loves with him.(bonus points if Ra’s told Danny that Bruce knew where he was but never did anything about it, even though all the evidence suggests that Bruce is a family man)

The people of Amity Park never cared about him. Hell, one of them even killed him.

Only  Ra’s, no. Only his grandfather is the one being in this world that cares for him and only him. He won’t abandon Danny like the rest of his so-called ‘family’ right? All the while Ra’s is gently telling Danny the words he wants to hear and nudging him onto the path where he resents everyone else and would be only faithful to Ra’s and Ra’s alone.

#Dc x dp #Ra's Al Ghul #crossovers #Ra's when he learns that his failure of a grandson that he kicked from the League to die by himself is now a powerful but mentally #and emotionally unstable being #Ra's: Haha free real estate #Danny the mentally and emotionally unstable being in question coming face to face with his seemingly loving and kind grandfather #Danny: Is this..a family? #When it's really not- #Also batman is there too being depressed

[crimbabyops]

The Un-Natural Love Story

Chapter 1/? The Meet Up

Warnings: Long as fuck, murder but not in detail, smut later on, usage of curse words, fluff, No Y/N all OC based uhh that should be it but let me know if not.

A/N: I know this ain’t the Montai and Nixx fic I promised but I’m still working on that but please do enjoy this series I am writing and I do promise to post the other fic that’s a promise.

These chapters are long so be prepared.

The sounds of leaves crunching, birds singing, and….curses being said in the distance. Makes a great drama in the making. But this is a story about a pirate vampire and a ninja assassin falling in love.

I know I know this isn’t your normal fantasy love story but it is very enjoyable. Let’s get started all about the pirate vampire. Named Diablo Cattaneo, he’s uhhh let’s just say older than the universe.

Born a twin to Crimson Morningstar, he was the more calm but chaotic type of person. He was so attracted to wet stuff and not in that type of way…..I think. When he landed on earth to find his twin he landed in the ocean with no direction on where to go.

He swam and swam until he reached this sandy area that mortals call a beach. Dia explored until he found this bar filled with drunks galore, clothes ragged, and his twin near the bottles of strange liquid and barrels of unknown substance.

He sat and listened as his twin told him all about her adventures of different places, treasures and a chest filled with greed and sin. He was more focused on the creatures though, mostly these 8 legged creatures called spiders. He wanted to learn more so he did.

He adventures out to unknown and un-searched lands. Along the way he finds this band of drunks complaining about being moneyless and bloodless. He continues to listen from afar. Finds out that their vampire pirates that were thrown away by their captain for he was a prince that wanted control over adventure. But before that could happen he turned them to forever be damned to the darkness and castaways to the sea forever to stay away from the shore.

This gives Dia an idea, he starts his search with the help of his twin for a spell that can turn any damned soul into a living soul once again. He finds these pirates again still on the beach moping and complaining about their troubles. “Fuck that prince he was always an ass kisser anyways.” one states in a whiny tone “You mean he was a stuck up rich boy who desired control.” another states kicking the ocean with a gruffy tone. “Now now, don’t kick the ocean, she has nothing to do with it.” Dia walks out with a chuckle and two barrels filled with whiskey and rum and maybe even a little bit of blood.

The men stand up and draw their swords at him. “Who are you?!” one shouts with a shaky but scared tone at the 8 '10 8' 11 man standing in front of them with brown and black horns, neon blue long but slightly curly hair, heterochromia eyes one brown and one blue, and arms half covered like they was a glove, and a brown skin dark like carmel once it settles. “Who am I? Well I can be your savor or your worst fucking nightmare. Truly up to you darlings but I think I may have something you utterly desire.” he spoke with a smooth but dark voice.

“We want nothing of yours, demon!” A man says getting closer to land but only immediately falling to his knees in pain. Fading away into ash, Dia chuckles and takes his hat off in respect. “See here gentleman, you can call me whatever you want but the more you deny me the more you deny the only way to feel the sand in between your toes, the heat from the sun, and the sin you disgustingly want with another body.” Dia says already getting impatient.

Dia puts the barrels down to sit on top of it while his tail just sways back and forth. The two men still alive inhale and smell blood in the barrels. Dia sees this and chuckles “Now I think yall are getting my drift here. These barrels contain what you need to feel land but on one condition.” He says poking a hole into the barrel for them to get a better whiff of the blood. The men look at each other and back at Dia, putting away their swords.

“What’s the condition?” one of them asked “I need a boat and a crew. Where can I find both of them, maybe even just one but where?” Both men look at each other thinking before finally saying. “There's an island 3 days from here. It’s called Rikers Island where you’ll find all the crooked criminals. You’ll find your crew there but for the boat that’s a longer story. ” Dia throws one of the barrels at the man. He watches as they fight over the one barrel till the one pushes the other off of him and takes the barrel and runs.

“Don’t forget I have two so tell me about the boat or you can stay here for all of your natural unborn life.” Dia says, looking at his nails waiting for his answer. “If you want a boat you have to be granted it by the ocean.” Dia looks at him curiously “What do you mean?” “In this world, there are 4 elements: each one grants people these blessings basically, if the fire grants you worthy of wielding its power it gives you that and more. 3 people were already granted these powers, One was granted earth, one was granted fire, and one was granted wind.”

Dia ponders this and tells him to continue. “If you want to get blessed, some people say you have to bring offerings, or you have to die to get your blessing. Many have brought the sea offerings only to be denied. If you can get the sea to approve you. You are one lucky son of a bitch.” The man says being close to fading out since the sun is almost out. “Please we had a deal! I told you everything I know! Give me the barrel!” Dia pokes a hole in the barrel only for it to leak out sand. “Whoops. I guess I forgot to fill it.” He says with a smirk and walks away as he listens to the man screaming curses at him.

Dia walks away and hums before stopping in front of the sea. “So I guess I gotta start bringing you offerings huh? Let’s see what the sea likes.” he says walking away. While in a different timezone on the other side of the world.

~~~~

A shadow, a mystery, and danger to most but mostly to his kill-list but to others he’s an introvert, keeps his head down and keeps to himself. His name is Nahru Ito and he’s a 23 year old ninja assassin.

Leaving the house at 15, meeting his Master Osaka. Nahru was always the silent type, never really in drama. Was more focused on his training than instead of finding love or having fun. I know it's cliche but he is still a child so I can understand.

Living in an ‘entertainment’ district Sokjin, Japan. Nahru was never allowed out, especially at night. So he trained and trained and slept until he was 18. This was the age he left to explore and start his ninja career. While also getting hired at Osaka's club. The Drunken Fox this club was very known especially for those desperate bitches who needed love.

And our character Nahru was one of the hosts. He was very requested by a few men but mostly women. Let me stop you right there by host club I mostly mean people who need dates, arm candy even for events. While being one of the hosts he was also a bodyguard to keep the place in control.

Until he was approached by a very known client that was in trouble. “I need your help. I know you're just a bodyguard and a ninja but I need your help. I can pay you however but I need you to get rid of someone for me. ” He gets curious and pulls the client into the room so they can talk privately.

“What’s going on?” He asks the client giving her water to drink . “It’s my sister she went missing a few days back only to be found once again but when she got back I could tell she wasn’t herself.” “I mean she got kidnapped so she’s probably scared.” “That’s what I thought too but when she came back with this guy nowhere near her type he…was weird. When I say weird I mean weird he talked in third person. Always holding the back of my sister's neck to keep her near him. Never slept and never ate.” She continues to tell him the situation.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He asks her, realizing what she’s talking about. “I will pay you a thousand dollars to get info and get rid of him and find my sister.” She says her eyes filled with despair and maybe even some guilt. “Make it 3,000 and you have a deal.” She agrees and gives him enough information for him to get started.

Nahru packs his stuff getting ready to make his journey over to Tokyo, Japan. As he does he starts asking locals about him. “Oh yeah, he's a very strange man. Never talked to anyone but himself and his wife. His wife was weirder though she used to smile and wave and even play with the kids but now she just stares. Always has this blank, no emotion stare. Un-human even.” The locals continue to explain until the wife and husband come out. “Look there, they go right there. See the way she just stares.” Nahru looks at her and notices more than just an emotionless void.

He notices a camera and realizes something about her neck. It turned at an unnatural angle. ‘Weird’ he thinks as he finds his temporary home for him to stay. Over the weeks he investigates and searches for answers all while more creepy stuff has happened. All the locals turned into emotionless creatures and always stared at him with blank stares. Never smiled or wave, never stopped him to talk.

They were always just staring. It didn't make him uneasy but it made him more curious than ever. The week continued with more and more strange things happening. Until he woke up one day vision foggy, hearing clouded, and his head was pounding. He tried to rub his eyes only for him to find out his hands were tied to the wall. He looks around to see all the villagers and even the sister scared and frightened.

All pleading or begging to be released. Some pray to the gods above while others just want to know what’s going on. Nahru asks the person next to him what's going on. “I-I don’t know. We woke up here with no explanation. They put food in the middle and expect us to fight over them and when we don’t…….they kill us.” The man says scared.

A red light starts shining and a loud buzzer starts going off. The middle part of the ceiling starts slowly moving down. In the middle, is stale and bland food while everyone is looking at the food. The handcuffs release their hands for them to start fighting. Except for Nahru……

Chapter two

#love story #oc x oc #onis #pirates #vampires #first series #monster smut #monster boyfriends #boy on boy

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Could you tell us about your last encounter with ghosts??

Sure. (In case you haven't seen it, my last post about this subject was here)

more I used to live with my parents in a house they had grown up in. I'd gone to sleep many times in my room, and at some point during the night, it seemed that something knocked on my door and started to enter. I tried to pull my door closed, but something pushed on the other side. I got out of bed, went to the door, and stuck my head in it to see if something was actually there – it seemed empty, but also seemed like it was really, really bright inside. I saw this weird blue light coming out of the room and realized that the walls were glowing.

At this point I didn't know where I was or what I was seeing. I tried turning on every light I could find, but the thing persisted. It was like the room was alive in some weird way. There was no sound, but somehow I felt like I was in a movie about a haunted house. The walls were lit up by that weird blue light, and the only source of light in the room was a lamp in the corner I hadn't turned off. I went over to the lamp, turned it off, and stepped back into the bedroom.

After this I had no trouble sleeping at night, but after I went to the toilet (and came back) the lamp in the corner lit up again. This continued for many weeks. The walls never lit up, but they appeared to get gradually darker. Eventually they did light up at night.

At some point I started hearing a voice, but not quite words, and also the floor vibrated a little. At this point I wasn't too worried by anything I saw, because I knew I was still awake and there was no immediate risk of danger. I was also pretty convinced at this point that I was living through a sort of nightmare that was being caused by the fact that I had fallen asleep in a house that had once been haunted.

Around this time I went to visit a friend in another state, and when I was driving back, the house began to glow blue. The light was still in one room, though, and I had no idea what had caused it to light up. I was trying to figure it out when it finally stopped. I don't remember if it came back any more, though I probably would have remembered if that had happened.

After this, I was really freaked out by the whole situation and went to see a medium. She told me she could see ghosts, and that I could see two spirits, one of which I should talk to, and the other of which didn't want me to talk to. She suggested I do so by talking to it at random times. If I just didn't talk to it, it wouldn't bother me, and it'd leave.

The first spirit was named "Sister Anne," and while I didn't want to talk to her (which is pretty understandable), I did want to talk to the spirit I did talk to. I thought this would be hard for her to accept, and it would prove I was a very serious spirit. However, it had made it clear to me that while I did not have to talk to it, it also didn't want to leave. I thought this was kind of mean.

I spent a year talking to this spirit. We would meet a lot in random houses around town, and she would be with me all the time – except when I went to sleep or I went back to sleep. I felt like this meant I was in a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dream that needed to be cured. So, I kept talking to her, and eventually she stopped being all around. I got some sense from her that the house wasn't going to be haunted forever, although I didn't know what would happen then.

One night, at about this time, I found myself in my house at night, and the walls of my room were covered in a thin layer of dust. I also had the sense that there was an important person coming soon, in some mysterious way. I knew this person was a friend, and I was excited to see him again. But it turned out that the house was not going to be haunted. I got a different sort of sense that everything was normal, now.

#wertiotea

[love-toxin]

plagas; leon.

a/n: in the midst of some writer’s block i stumbled upon an old concept i never finished. enjoy some good ol’ plaga leon <3

warnings: parasitic possession, yandere leon, female reader, violence, blood, groping, leon’s teasing is just straight up bullying, pet names, almost noncon, slight boot kink, chasing. 

word count: 1.9k

“Leon..?”

The sun had set on your terrifying journey, and cast a shadow over the room you'd found yourself trapped inside. Not by locks this time, or villagers, or Saddler himself...but by the person you had trusted throughout this entire nightmare. The man that had saved your life stood between you and your only way out, and even then, you doubted that you'd be able to escape if you managed to slip past him. The road home was so long and the stifling, smothering Spanish heat had made way for a chilling cold that breezed through your body in the night and froze you to your spot.

And Leon was gone. His mind and body had succumbed to the disease he'd been injected with, the parasite that he'd protected you from...but instead of saving you, now all you felt was panic, fear, and dread when you looked into his eyes. 

“You can’t suck the poison out of this wound, sweetheart...but I won’t stop you if you wanna give it a try.” 

Leon took slow steps around you, his footsteps echoing in the marble hall of the castle as he eyed you up like you were his prey, while his fingers spasmed and twitched at his sides, like they were itching to either grab you or wrap themselves tightly around your throat. So much had happened since he'd rescued you from the farmhouse, and reassured you with infectious confidence that everything would be okay. It felt like a lifetime that you'd known him, even if in reality you'd only spent less than a day together--but running and hiding and waiting for Leon to dispatch any threats made the hours seem so long and torturous. You prayed for his safety at every turn, and felt terror grip your heart as you waited for him to come back and retrieve you from hiding…

And now you were here.

"Saddler wants me to kill you, you're not worth the hassle to him. But to me...you're my treasure. Mine." 

The way that word rolled off his tongue sounded like an echo in your brain. He said it once before, and it stuck with you awhile--but hearing him say it now was like having it permanently seared into your head. 

It wasn’t a secret anymore. You’d fallen in love with Leon, as so many had before. You fell for his confidence, his strength, his effortless teasing and sincere concern for your safety, and maybe it was all just backed by your appreciation for him saving your life and playing the hero so well. But even if it was temporary, you were in love and you wanted him to survive just as much as he wanted to save you, and even if he succeeded and brought you home just for you to never see each other again, there would always be a part of you that loved him, and you had accepted that fact. 

But things had changed. Seeing Leon no longer filled you with relief and happiness, that smug grin on his lips as he greeted you after fighting off monsters you could only imagine in nightmares. He took a step towards you, and this time you took a huge one back--and he chuckled, his tone dark and biting, before continuing on and piercing through you with blood-coloured irises. 

"I found you, I get to keep you. Finders keepers, huh sweetheart? That's fair, isn't it?"

His gaze held nothing less than a deep, ravenous hunger within him, the unsettling smirk on his face in no way easing that tension that weighed heavily on your mind. 

“Maybe I’m just a monster, now...if I am, then so be it. If being a monster means seeing that look on your face forever, then I gotta say, it feels pretty damn good!” 

"Y-You're not Leon!"

His shoulders suddenly tensed like he was about to lunge for you, but letting him have the upper hand would mean the end for you. You knew that fact so well that you acted on instinct, and unsheathed the knife whose handle you'd been stealthily gripping this whole time, to stab it into the eye of the man you wished you could have a life with. And you missed, the realization both relieving and terrifying, as the blade clanged and stuck into the wall behind him and barely clipped a few strands of his light-coloured hair. 

"Is this my knife? Now that's pretty cute,"

A shudder violently wracked your body as Leon's tongue slipped past his lips, and he turned his head to lick a slow stripe up the gleaming, bloodstained blade. He'd ended plenty of lives with that thing, but it seemed as though his own had yet to be one of them. 

"I've played the hero long enough. I want a reward for all my hard work...I want you."

His hand crept up your waist before you could react to it, rough fingers spreading warmth through your stomach as they grazed the exposed skin of your hip. But once you tried to break away from the touch you wished you didn't crave more of, his other hand shot out to grab you by the waist and keep you pressed uncomfortably close to his body, so close that your lips were mere centimeters from his neck and breathing in gave you a good whiff of that faint scent of cologne that still lingered on his skin. 

"Don't fight me, pet. I can already hear you crying for me to use you...you know, you're so cute when you're scared."

You squirmed even still, thrashing and shoving against his chest to try and find some way to twist out of his hold--but moving him was like trying to push a brick wall, and his grip on you got tighter and tighter until you whimpered with pain. The things he was saying just didn't make any sense, and you never wanted the real Leon more than you did in this moment. Knowing what it felt like to have his strength used against you instead of to protect you...it was becoming too much to bear, and in your terror you found comfort in Leon's touch again even if it was brief, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin and working to relax you enough that you weren't so tense. 

"You're gonna forget all about that fear when I'm balls deep inside you." 

What little comfort you found was gone once he whispered that into your ear. You felt your eyes widen and Leon's fingers worked their way under the waist of your shorts in a moment, the danger so imminent that your reaction ripped itself from your throat in a scream, and you returned to struggling against the unmistakable stiffness that dug into your inner thigh through his tight pants. 

"Leon, stop!"

You wailed, beating your fist against his chest and even catching him in the jaw, not that you really noticed in your frenzy nor did he react save for his brow furrowing in fury. It didn't last forever though, it was easy for him to use his leverage to shove you off, your back hitting the ground hard enough to sting while he loomed over you and watched with sick glee as you trembled too hard to get up. 

"You don't want me to stop. Be honest, doll." 

You weren't expecting this kind of violence from him, especially not when he brought his foot down right between your legs, as was evident by the way you shrieked and tears pricked at your eyes at once. Somehow he managed to aim the heel of his boot right at your clit, and you were certain now that it was by no way an accident by the way he ground into it in slow circles, and watched with a smirk as your hips shakily followed his rhythm of their own volition. 

"You want me to take everything from you, and I swear to you I will. I'll strip you of every inch of your pathetic life and make you mine." 

The pressure was starting to hurt, and your arms shot out to grab his calf and try in vain to wrench him off of your sensitive areas. It seemed to just entertain him, however, and his taunts were starting to sting your broken heart even more than any physical pain he had inflicted. Even worse was watching him lick his lips as he reveled in your suffering, and one of his hands descended beneath the belt of his trousers to stroke himself under the tent that was so clearly obvious. He loved watching you in pain, and nothing but rage bubbled up in your chest from the humiliation of loving somebody so depraved, even if he wasn't really Leon anymore. 

"I hate you,"

You muttered through gritted teeth, trying so hard to hold back your tears that your whole body was shaking. He let slip a soft moan as he twisted his grip on his cock, and didn't stop even as he focused those bloodred eyes on yours and growled in time with an especially rough tug. 

"Liar." 

Leon's grip fastened on your shoulder, but instead of pushing you back down to the filthy ground, he yanked you forwards and crushed your lips against his. Nothing but heat and the scent of blood overwhelmed your senses, your eyes fluttering closed when he started sucking on your lower lip and grazing it with his teeth. You wanted to hate the shivers that snaked up and down your spine from his kiss, but when it was from the man you still loved, it was difficult to brush those feelings aside. It wasn't impossible, however, because when he prodded past your lips with his tongue and moved in close enough for you to feel his cock twitching through his pants, panic flared up in your throat and you bit down on instinct, the coppery tang of his blood flooding your mouth at once. Leon shoved you off him much harder this time, but with the pain causing him to stagger you managed to scramble to your feet and back away a few steps to get some distance. But the fear of turning your back to him kept you frozen in place.

"You wanna be a brat, huh?"

Despite inflicting some much deserved pain, his glare barely wavered as he pulled his hand from his pants and wiped the blood that dribbled from his mouth, eyes gleaming with a lust for violence that you feared right now more than ever. 

"I'll let you have a ten second head start then, sweetheart. Better hurry."

You hesitated, his offer confusing you for a moment, but once the realization dawned on you your feet moved on their own. Sore and stained with tears and blood, you tore off down the castle corridors to search for an escape, and if not, then just a place for you to hide until Leon gave up on you, which would never happen. The thought of monsters barely dwelled in your mind when the most dangerous one was Leon himself, but little did you know that it would only take a short while for you to realize how fragile you really were when he wasn't protecting you, and that escaping without him was just simply not possible. 

"...Cheeky little slut. Let's just see how far you get before you come crawling back to me."

#yandere leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #yandere lemon #yandere resident evil #resident evil #resident evil 4 #love-toxin #1k

[fuckingthefictional]

Hi! I would like a request about Derek from teen wolf, please. The reader is trying to approach him, taking care of him "because Derek is too busy taking care of the others", BUT IT'S BEING SO HARD because of all of his past. Derek and the reader argue one night because of the overprotective nature of the reader about him, and when she tries to leave the loft, completely upset with Derek, he tries to fix things between them. Could you do this with a lot of angst and, then, tons of fluff? Thanks!

Ignored

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Warnings: Angst bbyyyy, and some fluffy goodness at the end, not checked over (so probably a crap ton of spelling errors)

A/N: hello hope you enjoy, sorry it took forever! I’m so busy with work, college and personal issues that writing has been put on the back-burner.

When the name Derek Hale was mentioned- one immediately thought of the broody, salty, sarcastic young man who lived by himself after the tragic Hale house fire.

Nobody would ever associate the name Derek Hale and caring. It just wasn’t in his nature. Because under no circumstances could Derek be remotely kind, caring or soft in any way possible.

That’s what people thought of Derek. But not you- or the majority of the pack for that matter.

Yes, you saw where others came from with their ideas and judgement (Derek’s lack of colour in his wardrobe obviously didn’t help either).

But to you when you heard the name Derek Hale, you immediately thought of the kind hearted man who would give up anything for the safety of his friends and family (as much as he claimed otherwise).

You knew him differently, you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew that his favourite food was Spagetti Carbonara without the mushrooms, that he didn’t like Coca Cola, that he secretly loved watching trashy tv shows like keeping up with the kardashians, and most importantly that he was running himself ragged.

He had bitten off more than he could chew when it came to helping everyone out. He was the one giving lifts and helping with homework and hosting pack nights, and handling Isaac’s nightmares, all of this happening at the same time as some supposed lizard creature being on the loose.

You had been ignored by Derek Hale for approximately 72 hours. Now this wouldn’t be bad if it weren’t for two things.

1. He wasn’t aware that he was actively ignoring you.

2. The idiot wasn’t your husband of 2 years.

Over 68 hours ago you hadn’t minded, you had even brushed the silence and distance off- knowing that Derek liked to have a little time to himself.

But when it hit the 5 hour mark of the 4th day, frustration and disappointment had begun to set in.

There was one more thing that made the whole situation worse. He was blatantly ignoring you- and only you.

It hurt. You could admit that to yourself easily without any qualms at all. It hurt.

Whether that was to do with the whole ‘mate’ side of things you didn’t know- all that you did know was that Derek Hale was drowning and he wasn’t going to swim until everyone else was okay.

-

Thud, thud, thud, creaak

“Der please sit down”

“I can’t. I gotta figure this shit out before the school finishes for the day.” Derek grunted from his spot in the middle of the room. His head firmly stuck in the thick, dusty book that he had been pouring through for the majority of the afternoon.

“Der please, take a break.” You pleaded with him, begging him to just stop for a second and relax.

“I can’t,” Derek murmured again, before he pivoted in his heel and walked away up the staircase.

His heavy footfalls retreated upstairs, the musty book still clutched in his grasp.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you willed the tears in your eyes to stay put and to not roll down your cheeks in fat drops.

Why couldn’t you be enough for him?

-

The next plea came around 2 hours later, when you brought a bowl of homemade pasta and garlic bread up to Derek. Hoping that just maybe it would strike up a conversation, that maybe he would utter more than two short sentences to you.

“Babe- I made you lunch.” You elbowed your way into the room, balancing the bowl and plate in your hands.

“Just leave it on the desk.” He motioned to an empty slot on the overcrowded surface.

“I just thought that maybe we could have lunch together, have some time with each-other.”

“Y/N/N’s I would- but I have so much to do. Stiles and Scott are already on my ass about the damn lizard freak in town.”

“Der, you need to take a break.” You placed your hands on his shoulders. Instead of feeling them relax you could feel his muscles tense up.

Shrugging your hands off, he pushed the fresh plate of food away, “I can’t.” He spoke simply.

“But-“ you tried to object in protest, trying to plead with the broad shouldered man in front of you- hoping that maybe, just maybe he would come to his senses.

He did not.

“I said no Y/N.” Derek ground out, “I’m busy. Please for the love of God stop bothering me.”

The words stung you, causing you to stumble back in shock. Derek had a hard exterior, everybody knew that. But he had never spoken like that to you.

He had promised on your wedding day that he would always be kind, that he would be your biggest supporter and largest source of love.

But all those words felt like lies now. You felt alone, like an empty shell of yourself. Why couldn’t you just be enough?

-

Hours flew by, the watch on Derek’s wrist occasionally beeping to signify the new hour. If he were being honest- he had lost track of what the time was.

The only signifier was that Stiles, Scott and the others were in his presence- meaning it was at least 4pm

And judging by the sky outside of his office window, it was late evening, as the sky itself had melted from cool blues into a fantastic array of oranges and purples.

But besides the low chatters and bickering coming from Isaac and Stiles, the house felt almost too quiet.

There was no tv hum coming from the living room, no occasional flush or running of water from the restroom, no sizzle from food coming on the oventop, no sound of a page in a book turning. Nothing. Just silence.

“Hey Derek,” He looked up to see Scott staring at him, “Where’s Y/N?”

“Well-“

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her yet today.” Isaac chimed in.

“I’m not actually too sure.”

Derek was met with a sea of blank stares.

“I’m sorry- there’s a kanima out there roaming Beacon Hills, the very same kanima that is killing more people by the day. And you don’t know where your wife is?” Stiles asked incredulously, “Are you kidding me.”

“Well I’ve been so caught up on this research that I haven’t been spending as much time with her.” Derek attempted to defend himself.

“Derek, please tell me that you haven’t been ignoring your wife.”

Everybody had there eyes on him again.

“Well-“

There was an uproar of protests, all of which were yelling at Derek for ignoring and deserting his wife.

“You better find her Derek, before something happens and you regret it for the rest of your life.”

-

You really didn’t know how long you had been out here for. All you knew was that the night was closing in and the chill was setting in your bones.

But you didn’t want to go back to the loft, you honestly didn’t think you could handle seeing Derek after his outburst earlier.

The cold, damp ground soaked into your body- sucking all the warmth out of your body at a creeping pace.

The spot you sat in, hadn’t changed much since your first date with Derek. It was still isolated and it gave off the best views in Beacon Hills. Nobody knew about it but you and Derek.

Sighing deeply, you looked out over the viewing point- watching the tiny specks of light flicker in the distance. Every single light showed a different life that was being lived, each one with their own struggles. Beacon Hills was something else to say the least.

“I knew I could find you here.” A familiar voice broke your train of thought.

You kept silent, staring straight ahead, willing that your bottom lip wouldn’t start trembling and the flood gate wouldn’t open in your eyes.

“Look I’m sorry.”

You sniffed, still unable to look your husband in the eyes, “Are you though?” You briefly shut your eyes to stop any tears from breaking through, “or are you just saying that to get on my good side.”

You could feel Derek’s presence settle down besides your own. His breath creating little puffs of mist under the dark sky.

“I didn’t realise you were trying to help me, until it was too late and you’d left the apartment” He muttered, “It’s my fault, I should’ve taken your advice, I should’ve listened to you.”

You listened intently, knowing his words were sincere and heartfelt, “Why didn’t you listen to me then Der?” You responded bitterly.

“Because accepting help means showing weakness, and showing weakness is something I haven’t done since before the fire.” Derek’s voice was small now, “Before I met you, accepting help was off the table- I was a lone wolf, with no pack or family. And now I’ve found you and I’m desperate to not lose that again, I can’t lose you to this new threat in town- I can’t be alone again.”

Silence hung heavy in the air as your husband’s words set in. It made sense to you; why he was studying non-stop, why he had barely slept or ate.

It was apparent that while he was trying to protect his loved ones, he was also pushing them away in the process. That needed to change.

“You won’t be alone Der,” You lay your head down on his shoulder, “I promise that much- it’s you and me forever.”

“Through every supernatural event that happens in this town?”

You giggled softly, “Yes, and every single thing in between.”

#derekhale #derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale imagines #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf masterlist #teenwolf #teen wolf #requested

[kass-storycorner]

I really loved your ghost fic with Xiao. But it left me curious to have a second part in which they finally find the way to communicate. Whenever is just to say goodbye and having reader going to the afterlife or getting stuck there forever in an eternal solitary pseudo-company together is up to you, I just want to see them talk 😭

awww, thank you! I'm so glad you loved it (though I am sorry for the sad feelings haha). And I was really struggling to find a way to end that orginal story in the beginning, which is the reason why it ended that way oops. Well, now here is the follow up for it. Compared to the small bit I wrote for Xiao... I mean not even compared to it, this is the longest fic I've posted on here so far? Ah, well. I just had so much fun with it.

Idea/Prompt: a follow up to Xiaos part in this post

Genre: a bit of Angst and Hurt, more comforting than the first part, but if the ending is a happy one is up to you!

Characters: Xiao (Zhongli as side character, mention of Hu Tao, Verr Goldot, a new character I made up that did not get a name)

Format: Text

Word count: 5593

Content warning: mentions of blood, spoiler-y for the second act of Zhonglis story quest and the same spoilers warnings as for the OG post! this is not proof read, I started writing this at midnight and its 5am now ahha fml

The Ghost of you Part II. - To the end

yes we are keeping the mcr names

“Xiao”, he felt an uneasiness in his body upon hearing his name. Where was he? Looking around, Xiao saw he stood in a field of flowers. When did he come here? He had no recollection of it at all. Confused he furrows is brows, worry filling his heart and then- “Xiao.” There it was again, that voice calling out to him. Speaking his name softly, voice filled with affection. Where did it came from? He walked around the field, no end of it in sight, looking for that voice calling out to him. The longer he searched for it, the more his heart was filled with dread. “Xiao.” This time the voice came from behind him and when he turned around, he saw you, holding your hand out to him and smiling. “(Y/N)”, Xiao looked at you in disbelief. Was it really you standing in front of him? Your laugh pulled him out of his trance. “Xiao, why are you standing there like a pillar? Come, take my hand,” and at that you wiggled it a bit, signalling him that you're waiting for him to take it. “(Y/N),” Xiao repeated, standing still and looking at your hand, then to you. “What are you doing here?”. Again, you laughed as if what he said was the silliest thing you ever heard. “What do you mean by that? Xiao,” you shook your head and then you shoot him a bright, warm smile. “You wanted to come here, remember? Now come, take my hand and dance with me before the music stops.” Dance? Music? At first Xiao did not understand what you meant, but then he heard it. In the distance, the low sounds of a flute, a sweet melody that sounded strange but all too familiar. “Xiao”, he heard you whisper his name, speaking so gently. Slowly, he was still a bit hesitant, he reached out for your hand, taking it in his. A smile came across your face at the touch of your hands. With a swift motion Xiao was pulled into your arms, you both at first staying still in that embrace. “Xiao, lets dance, okay?”. With that you both started to waltz around the field, Xiao not knowing how he knew to dance like this, but somehow, he did. The dread that started to spread in his chest earlier was now gone, replaced by the feeling of love he felt for you. Still, there was something tugging at his mind, telling him something was amiss here. It felt familiar, yes. However, it also seemed to be strange to him at the same time. Though Xiao tried to push the nagging feeling away, wanting only to enjoy this pleasant moment with you. Which is why he at first didn’t notice how the sky darkened above them nor that the music had stopped a while ago. As you both stopped to dance, still holding each other in your arms, he heard you call out to him again. “Xiao”, the sound of your voice was filled with pain and when he looked at you in his arms the light behind your eyes was gone, your face stiff and emotionless. At the sight of your dead eyes, he wanted to part from the embrace, but he couldn’t let you go. Xiao saw the blood, saw the bruises and suddenly he was on his knees again, you are laying in his arms. He wanted to cry, wanted to say your name but he couldn’t. It was as if there was no air to breath so he could speak. And then – “Xiao.” His name. “Xiao.” Again. “Xiao.” Over and over again he heard how his name was spoken, but with every whisper of his name the voice became more distorted, louder. Until he cowered in pain at the sound of it, wanting it to stop, wishing for it to stop. “Xiao”.

With that Xiao woke up, his body covered in cold sweat and his breathing erratic. Another nightmare of you, another nightmare of something he wished the both of you could’ve done but never did – because of his shortcomings. Xiao sat atop of a rock, looking over the forest in which your ghost continued to wander aimlessly around. He had been watching you for a few weeks now, trying to figure out what kept you here and how he could help you. However, Xiao was clueless at what could be the cause of this. It was clear to him now that he couldn’t help you, he needed to find someone who could. Looking down at the forest, seeing your ghost wander around between the trees, he softly whispered. “I will be back soon, I won’t leave you again for long, I promise.” There weren’t many people Xiao could ask for help. Back when you were alive Xiao wasn’t the most social, wanting to keep his distance from humans. After you died this habit of his, avoiding others, only worsened. So, the only person Xiao could think of to ask for help in this matter was the same who saved him from his servitude as a bloodhound. Zhongli spend most of the last hundred years among the people of Liyue, but for a few decades now he lived in a remote house. It was now the door of said house Xiao knocked on, knowing that although he could easily enter the house, Zhongli preferred it for him to knock. “Ah, Xiao, it is nice to see you,” Zhongli greeted the adeptus. As Xiao entered the house and followed the tall man into his kitchen, it was a standard practice of Zhongli to drink a tea with anyone who visited, he couldn’t stop to notice that the notebooks scattered around the house grew in number. “So,” Zhongli began his question, “what brings you here? From your troubled look I can tell you didn’t come for the tea or my company.” With that Xiao didn’t waste any time on more formalities, explaining his predicament to the former Geo-Archon. “Mmmh, I see,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup. “I fear I might not be much of help in this case, although I have some knowledge on the topic of the human afterlife, I can’t think of a solution to this. However, it might be best to go ask Hu Tao on advice, as she is way more… let’s say, perceptive when it comes to the dead.” How bothersome, Xiao thought at the mention of Hu Tao. “Zhongli, Hu Tao is long dead”, was all Xiao could say. It happened more frequently now that Zhongli seemed to forget things, small ones but also important pieces of information and this filled Xiao with unease. He didn’t like it that the erosion of Zhongli already was set in motion, thinking about that one-day Xiao might have to face him in battle should he lose all sense of self and sanity. Neither did Zhongli enjoy slowly losing his memories of the past – although he wrote down as much as possible, it bothered him that he had to even rely on his notebooks. “Ah,” Zhongli replied, setting his cup down on the table and with a troubled look, “I seem to have forgotten something again. Would you please help my memory, when did this happen?” “One thousand years might have already passed,” Xiao saw how much it stirred Zhongli up that he had forgotten the passing of a friend. “She had a good life, right? I’m sorry for asking, but I somehow can’t seem to remember much about her later life.” “Yes,” Xiao answered, thinking about the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. There weren’t many humans he tolerated or even enjoyed being around, but Hu Tao was one Xiao always was fond of. She was also the one at the Parlor that day you died, when Xiao came in with your dead body in his arms, he hoped he might find Zhongli maybe he could do something about it, but… Xiao knew there was nothing anyone could do. Hu Tao understood his pain, without a word she showed him where to put your body and prepared your funeral, without even asking for a single Mora. “Then, “Zhongli pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “maybe you might find help with the new Director, her family always had some knowledge about that human afterlife that’s even a mystery to me.” With that

Xiao said his goodbye to Zhongli and made his way to Liyue. The city of Liyue changed over the last thousand years a lot, but the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was still one of the constants in the city. Xiao couldn’t remember the last time he visited the city, though it must have been a few hundred years ago for sure. He just never really liked it and since, what the humans called a ‘industrial revolution’, the city was even more crowded and overwhelming for Xiao. “Welcome to the Wangshen Funeral Parlor, how may I help you?”, a young person greeted Xiao as he set foot into the building. At the enthusiastic way the person greeted him as he entered a funeral home, Xiao was sure this was one of Hu Taos descendants. He barley could imagine anyone else be so happy surrounded by death. “Are you the director?”, Xiao asked in his usual stern voice. “The 107th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, yep that’s me!” “I may need your assistance.” “Wonderful, I’m always happy to help- oh well, not happy as I am happy for your loss, my condolences by the way, but in happy as I am happy that I can be of help. So, what do you need help with? We have some wonderful new coffins out of a wonderful wood, really they are also very comfortable, not that comfort is that important for someone who’s dead, but I thought it might be also of interest to say that they are really comfort-“, ah yes, Xiao thought, definitely related to Hu Tao. “I don’t need a coffin”, he interrupted the young director. “Oh, um… what can I help with then?”, they asked and then Xiao explained everything to them. At first, he wasn’t sure of the director would be of help, most humans have long forgotten the existence of the gods and adepti, as most of them died or lived a life among humanity, but sure enough the director did turn out to be well versed with the forgotten knowledge of the world. “So, you say the ghost is just roaming around those woods? Nothing else happens?”, the director asked, sitting in their chair in the back office of the Parlor, and they had their hand on their chin, looking like they were thinking about something “Will you be of help now or why do you keep repeating the same useless questions?”, Xiao became a bit impatient now. He just needed to know if someone was able to help you. Without even answering the question the director stood up from the chair and walked towards a bookshelf, pulling a big and old looking book out and opening it up on the table. “Mmmh, from what you’ve described it seems to be nothing to grave, they don’t seem to have become an evil spirit just yet, moreover it seems like they are just one who got lost, though it is surprising that after such a long time the spirit didn’t just turned into something malicious. Normally for most human ghosts it takes a few hundred years until they go insane and well, you know all too well what then happens with an evil spirt I guess.” Xiao was aware what happened to the evils in the world, because it was mostly him. Though he didn’t like to think about it what it would have meant if you- no, he didn’t even want to finish that thought. “How do I help them?”, he didn’t care about any of the other information, he just wanted to find a way to help you. The director pointed at a passage in the book in front of them and continued. “What we have to do is easy if you think about it, I just need something that belonged to the deceased they held dear, a few materials like Qingxin flowers, around twenty should be enough, and the next part is more tricky if you don’t know the deceased that well, which shouldn’t be a problem here, but we need to, well you need to, speak some words that you know are important to them. A story or something like that, sometimes even the voice of a loved one is enough to help to guide the spirits back. Though I will definitely have to accompany that spirit to the border, just to make sure it won’t happen again, you know getting lost, because I can’t guarantee this method will help a second time.” Xiao was quiet. Something that belonged to them, when the director said

those words, his hand immediately flew up to the necklace with the small pendant he wore. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he rather enjoyed listening to what you had to say to him most of the time. He enjoyed the sound of your voice; it was so much more pleasant than his own. One day, Xiao still remembers it so well, your voice said something he did not expect for you to say. “Xiao, I love you.” It took him by surprise, standing on the balcony of the Wangshu Inn, watching the night sky… he suspected that you liked him that way, he did too. Oh, but how he hoped that you wouldn’t say anything about it, like he planned too. Your openness scared him. The idea of being loved scared him, for what was there to love about him? He didn’t want to be a burden to you, his karmic debt, his burden – he feared it would all just make you hate him one day if he let you see it all. That night, after you said these words, Xiao disappeared without a word from your sight. He wasn’t far away, but he wished back then that he teleported out of his hearing range. The sobs that came from you after his departure broke Xiaos heart. After this he avoided you, which wasn’t too hard because you did the same thing too. But with every day that passed when Xiao didn’t see you, hear your voice, his heart grew heavier. Asking himself if he really did do the right thing. Verr Goldet approached Xiao a few weeks after your confession, inquiring why now you didn’t come to the Inn anymore. Xiao did not answer her question, but Verr was a smart woman and at the look in his eyes she understood. “Don’t give up someone you love, only because you are scared of the love you both feel for each other, Xiao”, was all she said. This was the final push for Xiao to finally get over himself and embrace the feelings he felt for you. He didn’t know anymore where the idea came from, but he decided to gift you a handmade necklace along side his confession. Xiao was scared that it might be too late for telling you that he felt the same. However, he knew he had to do it and he wanted to give you something that showed you how he felt too. So Xiao collected the material all around from Liyue, creating a metal necklace and using a small piece of Cor Lapis, your favourite you told him once, as the pendant. With that he looked for you, finding you sitting in the middle of a flower field. “(Y/N)”, he said, stopping himself from continuing when he saw how you jumped at your own name. “Xiao! You scared me!”, you quickly stood up and turned around to him. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he enjoyed listening to you – but you stayed quiet after facing him and you kept quiet when Xiao came closer. “I-“, he began, but unable to speak the words he so wished you to hear from him. Instead, he took your hand and put the necklace in it. “I- I made you this,” was all he could say, feeling how fast his heart pounced in his chest. The look in your eyes, Xiao saw the love you felt for him in them. “Xiao, I-“, he saw how you viewed the necklace in your hand, tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes. Before you were able to finish the sentence or let the tears fall down, Xiao took your face in his hands and kissed you. Yes, he wasn’t the most adept with words, but he learned that he could show you how much he loved you in other ways.

From that day on you wore that necklace every single day, never taking it off since Xiao but it on you after the shared kiss. You joked that it was a physical representation of your love for each other, though Xiao felt like you actually meant it. And somehow it really was. Xiao remembered how that necklace was still around you neck when he took your body to Hu Tao, he remembered that it was covered with your blood. He didn’t even think about taking it off you. It was Hu Tao who gave him that necklace after your burial and since then he hadn’t taken it off. It was the last thing he had of you, the last reminder of your love for each other and every night after your death, when he cowered in pain because of his karmic debt, the cool touch of the stone on his skin helps him to stay sane. Just like the flute he heard even long before he met you.

When Xiao and the director arrived at the forest, they collected the flowers on their way, he could see your ghost again. Walking around, calling for him. His heart breaks every time he had to witness your suffering. “Okay, we have the flowers… do you have something that belonged to them with you, Xiao?”, the director asked, and Xiao shifted his focus from you to them. Slowly he took the necklace off, feeling somehow so vulnerable without it, and gave it to the director. “You know where they start their walk and end it right?”. Yes, Xiao knew that. He had watched over your ghost for the past couple of weeks and noticed that you were walking in circles, without even knowing so it seemed, starting from the place you died and ending up there again. Although your body was buried in another part of Liyue and already long gone, taken back by nature, you stayed here. Where you died. Xiao wished he had come here earlier. Together with the director Xiao made his way to the place where your life ended and your endless suffering in a sort of limbo started, laying down the flowers and the necklace. “And how is that supposed to help them now?”, he asked, not sure how any of this will work. “Like I said, we put down something that belonged to them and was important because they will gravitate to the feelings still connected with that object. The flowers are helping, because they built a bridge between the living realm and what state they are in. Now we just need some words that they have a connection with, in the past it used to be certain prayers because people kept using them a lot, but you know it honestly doesn’t matter what you say, it just needs to be connected to them in some way. Maybe their favourite story or a lullaby, there are many possibilities.” “A lullaby, huh,” this was something Xiao hadn’t thought about in a long time. “Xiao, are you alright?”, he heard your voice from across the dark room. It was the middle of the night, normally he would be out killing monsters, but for tonight you were able to make him sleep with you. When you found out that he never sleeps you were shocked, though he tried to calm you saying that an adeptus didn’t need to sleep. “Maybe you don’t need to,” you told him with a stern look, hands on your hips, “but it will be good for you too, believe me!”. And somehow, after each of you confessed the feelings for the other, you were able to make him sleep next to you some nights. Just for that night his karmic debt plagued Xiao. He sat in front of your window, trying to keep his distance from you, not wanting to disturb your sleep and he didn’t want to worry you. “Xiao?”, you asked again, but instead of an answer Xiao growled in pain. Suddenly you were beside him. “Don’t”, he said through gritted teeth as you tried to touch him. “You’re in pain, let me help you.” He saw your worried painted face, ashamed that you had to see him like this. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Don’t worry.” “Don’t tell me not to worry when I see the person I love most suffering,” and with that you took his hand. “Please Xiao, let me help you.” Even when he wasn’t in such a weakened state it was hard for Xiao to refuse you and now – all he wished for was your comforting touch. You led Xiao back to bed and when you noticed how he had a fever you quickly prepared a cold and wet towel for him. As you both lied down in bed you took Xiao in your arms. “I don’t know if this will help,” you began after a short amount of silence, “but when I was a child my mother always used to sing this lullaby to help me fall asleep. She even continued singing it when we were older and got sick… it always helps me feel better and at ease, shall I sing it to you?”. Xiao only gave a small nod, not believing it would help when you sang that song for the first time. But it did, you soothed his pain and helped him fall asleep. From that night on you would sing it more often to Xiao, he never asked for it but you somehow always knew when he wished to hear it, especially on the nights when is karmic debt caused him great pain. That lullaby became

another sign of how much you loved each other – the necklace was Xiaos gift, the song yours.

Now there he stood, in this forest that once was just a plain field, the flowers and necklace to his feet singing that lullaby. Xiao never sang it when you were alive, he never sang at all. No matter how much you begged him to sing for you, this was something he always refused to do. Thinking about how beautiful your voice sounded, he never wanted to soil this song with his voice.

It felt like you screamed for Xiao for hours and hours on end, but your voice doesn’t hurt. Where were you? What had happened? In your head you repeated and repeated the last things you could remember again and again. You were walking in the fields, wanting to collect some crystal flies for a commission. Then you remembered that you were attacked, who or what attacked you slipped your mind. However, the fight was tedious and hard… and then you called for Xiao. That’s it. That’s all you could remember. But where was he? Where was Xiao? Didn’t he say he would always come when you called out for him? Why didn’t he come now? You feared that he was still angry with you, though you didn’t know anymore why he even should be angry with you in the first place. The two of you had a fight yes, but… was that it? You spend so much time apart, did he just decide you weren’t worth his time anymore? Did he maybe stop loving you? Those thoughts filled you with dread and you wanted to cry, cry at the thought of Xiao not loving you anymore, but somehow you couldn’t. So you kept calling for him, over and over again. “Xiao,” you screamed. “XIAO!” And then you heard something, at first you weren’t sure what it was, but there was a noise. You stopped calling out for him, trying to focus on where the sound came from, following the direction. It got louder and – was that Xiao singing? The closer you came towards the sound, towards Xiaos voice singing that lullaby… your mothers’ lullaby, the lullaby that became yours and Xiaos. Which he always refused to sing, no matter how much you pleaded. The closer you came you started to remember the things that happened more clearly. How you didn’t want to call for Xiao at first that day, how something hit you in your stomach and how you felt the blood gusher out of you. Yes, you remember how you couldn’t stand anymore and all that was on your mind was Xiao, you wanted to see him again. Just once. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were, how stupid it was for you to fight and how stupid it was to wait this long to call for him. You wanted to say this to him, all of it. But all you remember you said was his name. “Xiao.”

He stopped singing, his head flying up seeing your ghost stand right in front of him. His name. You just said his name. “Xiao,” you said it again, this time he heard you say it clearly and you looked right at him, not through. “(Y/N)”, it came more out as whisper. This is what he wanted. He wanted you to see him, to get out of that limbo, but why does it still hurt as much? “Ah, seems like it worked, great!”, the director interrupted the moment, looking at Xiao and the ghost of you. “I ummm- I’m gonna leave the two of you alone for a while, so you can talk things out, say your goodbyes, yadayadayada.” With that the director walked away and it was just you and Xiao.

“I-“, Xiao began, but somehow his voice failed him. What was there to say? What should he say? “Xiao,” he heard the hesitance in your voice. “Xiao, I am dead, right?”. He couldn’t stand looking at you, his eyes avoiding yours as he gave his short answer. “Yes.” “I see,” you replied quietly. You slowly started to remember the nights you stood on the field, waiting for him to come. “Why,” you weren’t sure if you wanted an answer to your question, “why didn’t you come? After, you know… I- I waited for you. I called you. Why-?”. “I felt guilty. It was my fault, if I just hadn’t tried to push you away again, then you wouldn’t have died, I’m so sorry,” his voice was so quiet, but you could hear how he tried to hold back the tears. “Xiao,” at hearing his name again he looked back at you, you now seeing the tears that pooled at the corner of his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you… and I should have called for you earlier. But Xiao,” you saw how the tears started to fall down his face, “it wasn’t your fault.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, Xiao fell to his knees, hands in his face and crying. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please, forgive me. I should have protected you that day, I should have come here earlier and see what was happening… please, forgive me.” You walked towards Xiao, reaching out your hand, wanting to touch him. Wanting to take him in your arms, but you couldn’t. It broke your heart. “Xiao, please, please look at me,” he did, his eyes red and filled with his tears. “There is nothing to ask for forgiveness for, you did nothing wrong Xiao. It’s alright. I’m sorry for leaving so soon, for running away that day we had this stupid fight. I don’t even know what it was about…”. “I don’t know either”, Xiao admitted and somehow you had to laugh a bit at that. None of you ever remembered why you fought even in the first place, all of this nearly felt so normal. But it wasn’t. Xiao wiped away the tears from his eyes and stood up again, this time to be able to face you. You looked just like he remembered, except for the see-through part but… your smile hasn’t changed. Even if this was a sad one. “Xiao, how much time has passed since I died?” That question surprised him. “Around…”, he was hesitant to tell you the truth. Should he really tell you? “Xiao,” and you looked at him and he knew that he couldn’t hide the truth. “A thousand years perhaps.” Thousand years, you thought. For thousand years he walked around with this guilt, for thousand years he kept that necklace that still was on the ground… for thousand years he lived his life, still mourning you it seemed. “Did you get over me?”. Again, another question he didn’t expect. Why were you asking him this? Did he get over you? “No, every single day since you died you were on my mind, I couldn’t forget you and I do not wish to. I can never get over you.” This wasn’t the answer you hoped for. “Xiao, I’ve been dead for thousand years. Even if I hadn’t died that day, I would have died on another one. Thousand years compared to what, sixty? Maybe seventy years if I had lived a full life is nothing. Humans are weak after all, aren’t we?”. You didn’t mean to stir him up with your last comment, it was more intended as a joke, alas a sad one, but somehow you struck a nerve within him. “No, they are not. I always said that, but I was wrong (Y/N). I don’t understand how you human can live your life, knowing that you will die, that those you love will inevitably die. How you can idly sit next to people you care about forgetting important things, things about themselves, struggle to remember who they are, seeing them die… and you move forward. I watched over you humans for such a long time, protecting you and I still- I don’t understand how. How can they love again? Where does the strength come from to keep moving forward?”, Xiao’s voice was full of pain, you heard it clear as day, seeing how tears rolled down his face again. You felt that there were even other things weighing heavy on him, not only you, but you knew that you couldn’t comfort him. That this was

something he needed to figure out himself. “Xiao, you will learn. You will understand it one day, it just takes time.” Your voice heavy with sadness and oh, how you wished you could take him in your arms, wipe his tears away and kiss him.

Before Xiao could reply anything in return the director disturbed the two of you again. “So, are you ready now?”, looking directly at you. “No, but I stayed here for far too long now, didn’t I?”, a sad smile coming across your face. You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you couldn’t stay any longer. It was time. “I will come with you as far as I can,” Xiao had wiped his tears away and stood now right next to you. If you still had a body your shoulders would touch.

Xiao and the director accompanied you to the border of life and death in silence. Before you crossed it you looked at Xiao. He looked so sad, as if he was to lose you a second time. “I wish,” you heard him say, “that you could stay just a bit longer. I know it’s selfish, but I just wished you could have stayed by my side forever. But you can’t stay, and you shouldn’t.” “Xiao, I feel the same. I wish I could have spent eternity with you, but I can’t and it okay. I just want to ask you for one thing, one last promise before I go, okay?”. Xiao looked at you with a heavy heart. “Yes.” “Promise me you will try to find happiness for yourself again, okay? Promise me you will love again, please. Don’t stay alone.” Silently Xiao looked at you to then finally say “I promise.” “Thank you Xiao,” Archons, you wished you could take his hand. “Now then,” you said looking in the directions you had to go. “Time to go.” “(Y/N)”, you heard Xiao say before you left. “I love you.” “I love you too, Xiao.” As Xiao and the director left the border, he stayed quiet, the atmosphere being quite sombre. “Maybe,” the director pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “there is nothing behind the border and they stopped existing completely. But maybe their soul will now find a way back to you, just in another way? Who knows,” and with that the director left. Xiao didn’t know if he believed that you would find a way back to him, but as it started to rain and as it fell down on his skin, Xiao felt now lighter as if a heavy burden was taken off of him. With that he started to move forward again.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fan fiction #reader x xiao #xiao x reader #xiao #genshin impact xiao #angst #hurt #comfort #xiao angst #genshin angst #gn!reader #xiao x gn!reader #writing #fan fiction #zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #genshin writing

[siriusblackmakesmesoft]

Soft

Sirius Black X Ravenclaw!Reader

Warnings: Very fluffy, use of she/her pronouns, a few physical descriptions of height and hair, reader being a childhood friend of Sirius and Regulus, use of the nickname bunny, sad Sirius :(

Word Count: 2592

enjoy :)

Sirius was having a bad day.

Usually he was able to move through them with little friction, a little extra quidditch practice, a little harsher joke at Peter's expense. Nothing too bad, just getting it out in little ways all day long, and by the end of the day he felt better. But today started bad. He had a nightmare, and if you asked him he would say that it was less of a nightmare and more of a flashback. He woke up sweaty and sticky and crying. Gasping for air, hands waving frantically towards his sheets and his heart trying to find proof of it being over. The sun wasn't up yet, and even though his brain told him to wake someone up, he just took a cold shower. Put on his favorite sweater and went to the gryffindor common room. The red chair next to the fireplace was calling his name.

On top of not sleeping well, he got a letter dropped in his tea this morning. He knew from the nameless front of the envelope that it was from his mother. The green ink inside only furthered his bad mood. Remus' look of sympathy was met with a tight lipped semblance of a smile, and when James pat him on the back he felt the urge to hurl. Pity is really the last thing Sirius wanted, ever, but right now he couldn't stand it. Mumbling some excuse to leave, he went to the black lake. Alone and quiet, that's what he needed.

Of course, with his luck, it didn't last long. His mood hadn't improved in the half hour he was alone, and he was sure being by himself much longer wouldn't have helped either, but the presence of another person irked him. Looking up and seeing his brother lessened the annoyance, he was positive James venting about Lily would make everything worse.

"I see mummy dearest wrote to you as well?"

The scoff Sirius let out truly was unintentional. He had been trying to reconnect with Regulus, and while it wasn't his idea, he really was trying. Having someone who knew, lived the very same thing that made his day start so awfully, was refreshing. He didn't have to act like it wasn't so bad, especially on days where he needed someone to say that it was.

"Only called me a disgrace 4 times this time around, didn't even mention how I was a traitor."

This time it was Regulus responding, a soft hum of acknowledgement, and a deep sigh.

"I win then, she only said I was a disgrace once."

It got Sirius to chuckle, a deep chuckle that was laced with sadness. The silence that followed was comforting, no expectation for conversation was something Sirius rarely experienced, and he was glad it was happening with Regulus. Laying back so he was flat against the ground, Sirius heaved a large sigh, dramatically flopping his arm over his face. Regulus stretched, tapped his brother's knee three times, and stood up to leave.

"You should visit (Y/N) soon, she wasn't at breakfast."

Sirius' thoughts were flooded with the girl, instantly raising his bad mood. He ignored the part of him that got annoyed when Regulus spoke of her, as if they were close. While she had always been in the lives of the Black boys, she held a tighter grip on Sirius. And he knew, everyone knew. He relished in it.

Regulus started walking away in the middle of his thoughts, and over his shoulder yelled, "If you see her, tell her I say hello!"

The rest of Sirius' day went quite similarly to his morning. He failed a herbology quiz, got a detention in potions, made James upset when he spoke up about his obsession with Lily ("If she said never in a million years, prongs, that usually means she wants you to leave her alone!") and while he felt bad when James face dropped and Peter shook his head, Remus saved him by putting his hand on Sirius' shoulder and said quietly, "It's okay, he knows how your days been."

By the time dinner had come about, Sirius was ready to be eaten by the squid in the black lake. He stopped the facade of his typical self just after his talk with Regulus, and while he knew he should eat, he just pushed his food around his plate. He tried listening to Peter's story, and the summary of the most recently finished book Remus was telling, but his eyes were blank, and so was his head.

He left dinner without a word, going to walk through the halls until he felt good enough to sleep. His feet led him to the Ravenclaw tower door, getting nervous as he approached the eagle knocker. He let his breath out when the riddle was easy enough to solve (to be fair, (Y/N) had once said the eagle adjusted what riddle was used based on the immediate judging of the intelligence of the student, and while Sirius didn't think he was stupid, he appreciated a simple ego boost in the form of an easily solvable riddle.) and he walked in, dragging his feet to the stairs.

The Ravenclaw tower was structured differently than the Gryffindor, but the stairs to the girls dorm were the same. After muttering the simple charm to make sure the stairs didn't slide him straight back down, he walked down the hall to the head girls room, hoping she was there.

When his knock was met with silence he walked in anyways. Thinking maybe even her bed would help him in this moment. And while as desperate as it sounded, he knew she wouldn't mind. Opening the door he was met with the blissful sound of the shower, the light under the door and the light humming coming from the ensuite being the best thing his senses have experienced all day. Sirius walked slowly to the bathroom door, stopping to look at himself in the mirror on her dresser. He looked as tired as he felt, the remnants of a bad day hanging so obviously off of him. A crooked tie, messier than usual hair, dark circles under his eyes. He looked like the physical representation of a bad day.

When he got to the door of the bathroom he paused. This wasn't an unfamiliar routine, yet in this very moment he was anxious. Doubt flooded him. Scared of a rejection that wasn't going to approach him. Opening the door was relieving. Like a thousand pounds were suddenly lifted off his shoulders. Lavender and vanilla took over his senses, the warmth of the steam, the sounds of light music and water hitting tile. He was sure this is what heaven felt like.

"Sirius? Is that you?" He felt even lighter when she said his name. That soft tone, the one she only used for him. The same one she used every single time she spoke to him. It never failed to give him butterflies, even on the worst days. Somehow just her existing made his world a little brighter.

"Yes, 's me, bun." He couldn't find the energy to say much else, and the good part about her was that he didn't have to. The silence he left was welcomed, one she would gladly fill up with the melodies of Beatles songs he showed her.

"Reg said you were having a rough day, that I should expect you after a while." Her tone was questioning, leaving him the space to tell her as much as he needed. She always did that, let him take control in conversations about such things. He admired it truly, wanting to keep her in his pocket forever.

"Hasn't been the best day, no." Sirius took a seat on the counter, next to a few lit candles, and began fiddling with his fingers. Taking deep breaths, inhaling her scent that was stuck to the air all around him.

"D'you want to talk about it? 'Ve only got my hair left." He didn't want to talk about it, not really. He hummed as an answer, and she started singing as if she hadn't ever asked. The room lit up with the scent of her shampoo, a smell Sirius knew quite well. It was lavender, matched her conditioner, and lingered on the pillows he slept on in her bedroom. It was the kind of warm smell that encompassed you in a bubble of safety, and the feeling of home. Sirius began to think about all the times she ever made him feel like that. All the times she ever made him feel safe, content in being who he was. Because she loved who he was. And her own comfortability with that, with him, was enough to make him secure in it himself.

"'M gonna make you close your eyes now, no peeking." She giggled lightly under her breath as she turned the water off, moving the curtain to make sure his eyes were closed. He didn't say anything, and he really didn't peek. With his eyes closed his other senses got stronger. The smell of her shampoo mixing with that of her vanilla lotion, the sound of her brush running through her hair, the ever so quiet hum of the last song that had played. He felt his entire body calm down, being completely soothed by her entirety. All he could sense, all he could smell and hear, was her. And it grounded him.

"You can open your eyes now, Siri, 'm decent." He almost didn't want to. He suddenly felt very sleepy, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in her arms and sleep as long as she let him. Once he did open his eyes, his heart fluttered. She was wearing an old sweater of his, knit by an older Gryffindor and given to him as a Christmas gift the last year he stayed here for the holidays. It was shades of green, woven together to make a chunky knit sweater that fell just past her hips. She was wearing his old pajama pants too, ones from an impromptu sleepover at his childhood home. He wasn't shocked they fit her, considering she hadn't grown since third year, but he was shocked to see she kept them.

She blew out the candles next to him, smoke billowing up and out of the jar they were in. She put lotion on her face and her hands, grabbing his hands and putting the excess on them. She grabbed his chin very lightly with her thumb and forefinger, moving his head around, as if to inspect him, and for a small moment Sirius was afraid of what she would find.

"You haven't been sleeping well. Haven't been eating either." She said it so surely. As if she could see it written on his forehead in black ink. Sirius shook his head softly, not wanting the warmth from her fingers to leave his skin. She smiled nicely up at him, moving her hand to brush his hair out of his face. He reached up to hold her wrist, trapping her hand against his cheek, and she smiled softer. She had to stand on the very tips of her toes to kiss his head, and it made him huff, and almost laugh, and she smiled victoriously.

She pulled him into her room gently. Pushing him softly to sit on her bed while she walked to get him some pajamas. She pulled out a shirt he gave her and some pants he left in her room that Remus had given him for his birthday. He turned to change, facing the bathroom door just as he had when he came here not long ago. Swiftly changed into pajamas he laid down with a content sigh. Being head girl surely had its perks, and one of them was a king sized bed in a dorm with no roommates.

"D'you want some tea, lovey? Could make it with the honey like you like." How she made him blush with such simple words always baffled him. She remembered everything, she always has. Sirius shook his head, and instead opted for holding his arms up and making grabbing motions with his hands towards her. Her giggle made him smile, it made him notice he was in a much better mood, too. She walked over to the other side of the bed, laying right next to him, and pulled his shoulders to make him lay on her stomach. His arms instantly wound around her waist, shoving his face as deep as he could into her body, holding her as close as he possibly could. Her fingers found themselves weaving into his hair, running through the locks like they were strands of silk. The quiet that encased the room was a lovely type of silence. The kind that Sirius wishes he had more often. No matter how loud and obnoxious he got, times like these were where he felt most himself.

After a while of silence, (Y/N) started humming a song again. As sleepy as it made Sirius, he couldn't let himself sleep.

"I love you, bunny." It was mumbled into her shirt, a half-asleep induced speech mess. She hummed at him, running her hands through his hair while she waited for the perfect moment to say it back. It wasn't a long time before she responded, but while she was waiting he moved his head so his chin rested on her stomach, and he looked at her. It was a tired stare, half closed eyes and a dopey sleep smile etched into his features.

"D'ya hear me bun? Said I love you." She giggled at this, his insistence, and leaned down to kiss his hairline.

"Love you too, Siri. More than anythin' in the whole universe." Her voice was just as sleepy as his, and it made Sirius think that the moment meant that much more to him. That even in their vulnerable, tired states, they felt confident in loving each other. A satisfied hum left his throat, and as he was about to nuzzle back into her shirt, she pulled his hair to make him look at her again.

"'Ya gonna kiss me g'night, handsome? Or should I go get Regulus." A half-chuckle half-groan left his mouth, knowing it's a joke, yet not wanting it be said.

"Should know better than t'say that, bun. Gonna kiss you till y'can't breathe." She giggles as he shimmies up to her face, and she giggles even harder as he kisses all over her cheeks. She knows he feels better, can see that she got her Sirius back to normal, and it makes her feel accomplished. And it makes her think about how she'd do it every single day for eternity if he asked.

"Gimme one proper kiss so I can sleep, you big doof." He laughs into her cheek, placing one last kiss on each one, and finally landing on her lips. It was a long kiss, pressing the final bits of his bad mood into her. A few extra short pecks and one long dramatic smack of his lips later and he is back on her stomach, under the quilt she has charmed to stay warm, with her hands in his hair. Sometime in the night, after they've fallen asleep, his hands wind up under her shirt, searching for the warmth subconsciously. And sometime in the night, Sirius has dreams of her wearing his shirt in their bedroom, and he wakes up in a good mood.

#sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot #sirius black x reader #sirius black #regulus black

[half-bakedboy]

All Too Well

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Contains spoilers from season 5 episode 2: Desperate Times

Summary: “Is that enough?”

Buck spits the words right back, more venom that Eddie could have tried to muster. He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t. If anything, he had tried to keep his emotions at bay the second Ana’s name lingered between them.

But he does.

Because if that’s enough for Eddie, why doesn’t he love Buck?

Or a look inside Buck's head during their panic attack talk.

(read on ao3)

Buck has never been one to hesitate before talking to his best friend, but he sees Eddie with an arm over his face, lying down for the first time since Ana and Christopher left, and his feet feel like they’re stuck to the floor. 

He takes a few deep breaths, preparatory, anxiety-reducing, reminders that he’s breathing and that his best friend is hurting. He’s the one to make things better, to get Eddie through everything, so why is he hesitating? 

“Hey, are you sleeping or just pretending?” 

He knows the answer but is grateful when Eddie actually speaks. 

“I was actually trying to until you interrupted.”

Sarcasm, that’s— good. Buck isn’t sure when sass and thinly veiled annoyance became good but he isn’t about to overthink it like he has been for the last hour. 

“I’m exhausted,” Buck offers. He thinks that maybe if he shares something small, Eddie might be willing to give in return. “Uh, how are you feeling?” 

Buck knows the answer to this question, too, and he finds himself secretly hoping Eddie answers in sarcasm so he can truly convince himself that things are okay, that his hesitation was unwarranted.

“Hot,” Eddie drawls, “I’m sweating out of places I didn’t know I could.”

Well, Buck did ask for sarcasm. He didn’t expect the glint of arousal to strike through him like lightning, though. 

Or the quick jolt of panic as he rakes his eyes over Eddie’s body for nothing other than symptoms, an indication of what might be wrong because, for the first time since he’s met Eddie, he doesn’t know.  

“Not like a cold sweat though, right? Any chest pains?” 

Buck yearns to reach out, to feel Eddie’s pulse in his wrist, press a palm over his forehead to check for a fever. Hell, he would go grab a blood pressure cuff and EKG monitor from the ambulance if Hen and Chim wouldn’t yell at him. Buck considers it more than he should because he needs to know that Eddie’s really okay before he drives himself crazy. 

Eddie just stares, unimpressed. 

“You don’t give up, do you?” 

Nope, Buck thinks, though he wouldn’t risk saying it out loud. After a long exasperated sigh, Eddie relents, “I’m fine, Buck.” Like Buck is actually supposed to believe him or something. 

“People who are fine don’t go and see cardiologists,” Buck responds. 

He’s clutching the clipboard in his lap a little too tight and he feels it. The way his knuckles burn, the way his fingertips crease the papers he’s been pretending to focus on all day. He hopes Eddie doesn’t notice. He hopes that he does.

Because Eddie is a lot of things, but he isn’t oblivious. That oblivious. Buck sighs. 

“You need to tell me if something is wrong,” Buck finally says. 

It’s not a request, it’s an order. One that he’s not sure Eddie will follow, but one that he hopes will get the point across. 

Because Buck is scared.  

He’s been terrified ever since Eddie’s blood splattered all over his face, since he watched the nurses shove a tube down his throat and make no promises. Since Eddie sat beside him, alive and well, and trusted him with the most important thing in his life—in Buck’s life. 

That fear has only risen ever since he saw the way Ana smiled up at him during his welcome home and the way Eddie grinned right back, the smile Buck had too long convinced himself was his own. How comfortable she looked mixed in with his family, the family Buck started to consider his. 

He’s scared because he’s never felt so much, so strongly for another person since— No, that’s not right. He’s never felt this way about anyone . 

Eddie isn’t just another person to destroy him, another partner to tell lies and fall away. He isn’t going to be replaced in Eddie’s life just because he has someone else, someone who might know what’s going on in his head and doesn’t have to demand an answer. 

Eddie is different, he always has been. And Buck has to hold onto that. 

He does even when Eddie speaks again. 

“It was a panic attack, not a heart attack,” Eddie sighs as he sits up. Buck knows he’s irritated but he can’t bring himself to care. He has always mildly irritated Eddie, why should this time be any different?

Actually, he finds himself gripping even tighter at the clipboard—at hope— when Eddie admits to it. 

Panic. Of all the things Buck thinks Eddie is going to say, panic isn’t one of them. 

“Since when do you panic?” 

Then he considers the number of times he’s woken up in sweat-soaked sheets that felt too much like Eddie’s blood and tears in his eyes that he can’t seem to wipe away fast enough as they burn his cheeks. The pain of his sobs that still tear through him when he remembers the lost look on Eddie’s face in the firetruck, asking if Buck was okay like it mattered. The feeling of failure when Christopher’s hand patted softly at his shoulder.  

“That’s what I said.”

Something flashes in Eddie’s eyes that looks like surprise, realization, but Buck pushes it aside. He can’t cling to hope too tightly. He knows how that works out for him in the end. 

“I don’t panic,” Eddie huffs and then exhales, “except I did.” 

“Okay, well, what triggered it?” Buck lists off the reasons for his own panic, expecting a match, but Eddie doesn’t stop him to agree. 

He stops him to argue and it isn’t what Buck expects. 

“That wasn’t it,” Eddie interrupts exasperatedly. “If I’m being honest with myself, I—”

When has Eddie ever been dishonest with himself? 

“I think it was Ana.” 

Ana. The name that spirals in Buck’s mind too often when he has to remind himself that Eddie isn’t his. The name that only passes his lips drenched in sarcasm or malice or a thin veil of hope when he doesn’t think too much about what he is saying. 

The name that sparks nerves, anxiety, fear, dread, confusion— 

Panic. 

“Uh,” Buck stutters, hoping his heart beating out of his chest isn’t obvious, “I thought things were great with Ana.” 

He watched Eddie kiss her on the cheek during her surprise visit, watched as Christopher hoped out loud for a new mom, a wife for his father. Sure, he didn’t react exactly how Buck had expected, but he didn’t seem to panic. 

Or he did and Buck was too focused on his own misery to truly see it.

“She’s been a godsend through all of this, staying with Christopher, but… I think that’s what’s causing the panic.” 

He sounds so sure, so confident that there couldn’t be anything else, which is the Eddie that Buck remembers. Buck isn’t sure it’s the Eddie he wants to see at this moment, though. He wants to see Eddie happy, Eddie making plans for his future, Eddie beaming at the thought of being in love with a perfect person, the one that Ana seems to be. He wants Eddie to feel the joy that comes from spending time with him, the way Buck does. 

“Somehow we became a ready-made family and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” 

He says the other word that haunts Buck’s nightmares. 

Buck always thought he knew what family meant, what family was supposed to be, then his parents stopped caring. Then Maddie left and he was all alone. He thought he had found his family at the one-eighteen soon after and he was happy. God, was he happy, for the first time since he could remember. 

Then he met Eddie. 

Then he met Christopher. 

How defines his family is a little cloudy now. 

“So what are you gonna do?” 

And isn’t that the question of the day, the minute, the seconds that he spends gripping onto the clipboard in front of him to keep his hands from reaching, comforting, desiring. 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“I’m just gonna stick it out. Ana’s been the first woman I’ve wanted to spend this much time with since Shannon…”

“Stick it out?” 

Buck flashes back to his own attempt at sticking it out. Convincing himself that eventually, Eddie will realize what they mean to each other. His plans to stick it out even if it meant he wouldn’t be as happy as he could be, had pretended he deserved to be. He was going to stick it out because he would have Eddie in whatever way he could. 

“That’s not how you talk about someone you’re in love with.”

Buck’s not sure if he’s talking to himself or Eddie anymore. 

“My kid loves her,” Eddie shoots back, heat in his voice that doesn’t match the worry on his face. 

Buck’s not sure if he’s talking to himself or Buck anymore. 

“Is that enough?” 

Buck spits the words right back, more venom that Eddie could have tried to muster. He doesn’t mean to. He really doesn’t. If anything, he had tried to keep his emotions at bay the second Ana’s name lingered between them. 

But he does. 

He wants to grab Eddie’s shoulders, shake them until his brain wobbles into sense, kiss him and mutter the words back to him a million times over. 

Because if that’s enough for Eddie, why doesn’t he love Buck?

Is that enough? Is that enough for you to love me back? Is that enough for you to spend the rest of your life with me instead? For me to stop pretending anyone else is going to be a better fit for me than you? 

Because I love your kid more than anyone in the world, Eddie, and if that’s enough, then… 

Why not me?

Eddie’s silent for a moment too long, a second prolonged into a minute, that might have lasted forever if Buck didn’t break it. 

“Eddie, I’ve been Ana. I know what it’s like to be in love with someone who’s not all the way in.”

He thinks of his parents first. Then he thinks of Abby. Even Ali flashes through his tired mind. 

But nothing lingers like Eddie. Nothing has ever lingered like Eddie. 

“Deep down you know it and it hurts. It hurts worse than the truth.” 

Buck’s lived through a lot of truths. His parents creating him for spare parts, Abby leaving him and not looking back, Ali unable to handle the one thing he loves most in the world— loved most in the world, past tense because there are two things, two people , that have that title now. 

He’s lived through being in love with his best friend, his best friend’s family, his best friend’s son. He knows what it’s like to hold onto that hope that maybe, just maybe, someone won’t abandon him, someone won’t think he’s not enough. He has held onto the hope that someone loves him—not in the way he wants, but loves him just the same. 

Briefly he wonders if knowing Eddie doesn’t love him back would hurt more than not knowing. 

Buck shakes his head instead of saying any of his thoughts out loud. 

“So if you don’t wanna hurt Ana, you owe it to her to be honest.” 

Buck isn’t sure whether he’s talking to himself or to Eddie. 

“It just feels like a lot, man.” 

And Buck? He knows the feeling all too well. 

#911 #911 spoilers #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #buddiefanfiction #911 fic #911 coda fic #my writing #once again #my brain won't stop being my brain #until ive written a coda #so here you go #YEETS #this is not necessarily a happy one #but its the most accurate one i think ive written

[yminie]

nine one one | tres | fin | pjm (m)

pairing: Jimin x reader genre/warnings: angst, fluff, oldflame!pairing, detective!jimin, firstresponder!reader, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of mental health problems, mentions of weapons, explicit language, implied stalking, physical assault, fight scenes, mentions of blood, implied attempt at sexual assault, smut, brief oral sex (female recieving), unprotected penetrative sex. words: 15.3k summary: Your living nightmare has found its way into your home, and you’re all alone.

a/n: it only took me a year (sobs), but it’s finally here!! Thank you so much for all your support over the past two years with this storyline, and I hope you’ve all loved detective Jimin as much as I have! I love you guys so much, and I hope you enjoy it! Lemme know what your think <3

**********

Prev. on Nine-One-One;

Warmth grows in your chest at Jimin’s return, and you stretch out your legs from where they’d been tucked up close to your body as you await the call of your name or perhaps the familiar clicking of his shoes as he crosses your entryway to return to where he’d left you.

But like the night shadows drown the sun’s light, the warmth quickly freezes over into chilling terror as a dark silhouette moves across the room silently, not a sound following his gentle footsteps as he passes between you and the only light in the room. The blue glow of the charger dock sitting on the table against the far wall casting an eerie glow over his form, and just as terrifyingly outlining the fact that his height is a good head taller, and his shoulders are a decent few inches wider than they should be.

And as he makes his way far too confidently towards the hallway leading to your room, and that eerie blue light glints off a large silver shape in his hand, you come to the tearful conclusion that you’re right.

Jimin did not just enter your apartment.

And you have no idea who did.

**********

Fear has you stuck in place, lungs burning as you hold your breath, and only the hushed sound of his feet brushing across the carpet is to be heard. The shape of him gets fuzzier by the second until he’s too far down the hallway to clearly make out his silhouette, and finally your instincts kick in as you carefully slip from the couch and down onto your hands and knees on the floor, heart racing as you crawl as fast as you can behind the couch.

Back flat against the surface, you hear him again as he returns from what you assume to be looking in your room, but his footsteps this time are more stilted, each brush just a few milliseconds off to the last to seem like a normal pace, and it has your panic levels rising even further. You already know for a fact that your phone is up on the breakfast bar just a few metres in front of you, but you can’t bring yourself to move at the risk of him spotting you.

When he comes to a stop across the room, you can’t help but to risk a lean over to the right side of the couch and carefully peer past the corner. Your heart batters harder against the base of your throat at the dark shape of his body stood directly in front of the charging dock, the light bright in the absence of the city’s glow, and you can clearly see the shape of a rounded nose and sharp jaw. Eyes keen on soaking up every detail, you watch with a sense of disturbance as he gently plucks a photo from the stand before him and tilts it towards the light in an effort to see better.

He doesn’t grab your belongings with the aura of someone touching a stranger's things, but with the attitude of a person in their own apartment, merely giving a moment's attention to something they own, and the sight has bile creeping up the back of your tongue.

It feels like forever, the time that passes as you merely sit in eerie silence and watch with burning eyes as he slowly makes his way around the room, stopping at every shelf and surface to touch and hold even the smallest of trinkets that decorate your living room. Filling you with such discomfort and sadness that, you know already, you’ll never be able to look at any of the mementos and photo frames the same way after he’s gone.

You flinch when he turns suddenly, his left side to you now, and the dread swirling in your abdomen even seems to freeze as his features are once more sent into shadows, and he walks confidently to the curtains lining the majority of your apartment, hiding you both away from the world.

It’s barely possible to hold in the cry of shock that chokes its way up your throat when he reaches up and, with two hands, rips the curtains away from the wall with a loud crash.

Back hitting the couch again with a thud, you press a closed fist to your lips to hold all of the panic inside as your eyes squeeze shut against the sudden onslaught of light, and the beginning of the weekend nightlife is bustling away beneath the two of you, oblivious to the happenings right above their heads.

It’s sickening to imagine how many times you’ve been just as unaware as them.

Your whole body tenses up as his feet slide closer to where you’re hidden, and he paces a few steps before spinning on his heel and doing the same in the other direction, moving back and forth in front of the window as you shut your eyes tight and ignore the ache of your muscles. Distantly, you register the muted sound of a dial tone behind the crackle of his shoes over broken plastic and fabric, but it’s the shock of a fuzzy, familiar voice suddenly filling the space around you that has the fear truly setting in your bones.

“Hello, what is your emergency?”

**********

“Ah, yeah, hello?” Taehyung stands in his apartment, back stiff straight as he stares hard at the wall of his kitchen as if he could see through it into your apartment. “I’d like to request an ambulance, and possibly police too.”

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” The first responder on the other end of the line sounds tired, just as Taehyung imagines he would be this time of the night, but it’s even more so in comparison to the way his own body is hyped up with anxiety, ears keen as they listen out for any other crashes coming from your apartment next door. The sound hadn’t been too loud, but it was clashing enough to tell him it hadn’t come from his side of your place, but rather the other end, where he knew your kitchen was located.

The thought of you falling or dropping a plate crossed his mind, but it just didn’t seem to compare to the way the noise had truly made him feel.

“It’s-I heard a loud crashing noise from my neighbours apartment.” The clicking of the responders fingers are fast on the keys of the computer he’s imaging in front of him, and he pauses before speaking again. “And she’s all alone in there most of the time.”

“And she’s not someone prone to making noise? What was the address?”

“No.” Taehyung steps closer to the wall as he lists off the location, so close now to the front door. So close to just going over to check on you himself. “She makes none at all. She’s very quiet usually, I-” He pauses again, deaf to the sound of the general noise coming through the phone as he loses himself to his thoughts. “I’m scared something is really wrong. It just feels really off.”

“I’ll have the closest officer inbound and you’re on the list for the next available medical response, but I apologise since there’s no guarantee of injury or crime,” a few seconds tick by and Taehyung’s heart pounds with worry for you, “our response unit is done by priority so it could take some time as nights like these can be very busy, okay? Be sure to ring back should the situation escalate.”

“Okay.” His throat is dry. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t look away from the wall, merely places his phone down on the counter.

The waiting is almost worse than the fear.

***********

“Hello, what is your emergency?” The loudspeaker on the strangers phone is entirely too loud in the tense silence of your dark apartment, and you shiver uncontrollably at the sound of Taemin’s voice. There’s a tickle in your throat that itches for you to speak up, to yell for help from your friend, but you know it would be useless.

They’re nowhere near you, and lord only knows all the possibilities of things that could happen to you before anyone reaches you.

“I want to speak to the detective.” Head pressed to the back of the couch and body tight with stress, your eyes press shut as the voice of your nightmares echoes in your head, and you ignore the tears as they start to bud on your lashes.

“I’m sorry, you can’t be using this call line for non-emergency calls. We have the office number you can find on our website between the hours of–”

“What if it is an emergency.” His voice is colder than you remember, more than a little empty, and the complete 180 degree turn his attitude had taken from the last time you’d spoken was almost haunting. “What if it’s the worst emergency he could ever face.”

That sickening, burning feeling is back in your stomach, the same as the night you’d woken up in Jimin’s arms on the couch, and you fight against your tongue when you try to swallow. The semi-conscious part of your mind is fighting to remind you that he hasn’t seen you, he doesn’t know where you are. But you can’t seem to beat the way your body is growing evermore repulsed purely at his presence in your apartment.

More than a few seconds tick by, Taemin’s side of the call quiet all but the clicking of his keyboard as he types in a rush. Before they pause.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

The heavy clang and thundering rattle of your window vibrating in its frame bashes around in your head when the stranger lashes out at it with a tightly closed fist, and you can see the shadow on the floor between the breaking blur of tears as he presses his hand flat against the surface with a snarl.

“I know he’s there, you’d better get him or else I’ll–”

There’s the clatter of the phone being transferred from one person to another, and you can faintly hear the indistinct noise of Taemin frantically speaking to someone on the other end before being hushed.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice comes over the line and you tense up even further, mind running wild with the possibility of where Jimin could be. “This is Detective Jung, you’re looking to talk to my partner?”

“Don’t want to talk to you. Don’t fucking–” The strangers head whips to the side, and you can see the silhouette of his features distorted and stretched in his shadow, and a lonely tear drips from your chin to the carpet with a noise far too loud for how sensitive your ears are. “Where is he?”

“You want Jimin right?” The stranger's feet drag as he takes a step to the side, shoulder coming into your peripheral view as he staggers a little, body looking off kilter as he hunches over before straightening once more. The way his body moves is unnerving, something not quite right in the way he seems to tense and relax repeatedly, hand fisting at his side sporadically. “I can get him for you. Can you wait just one minute?”

“Don’t like to wait.” He sounds distracted as he grunts, crushing a piece of plastic further under his foot as he peers down at the streets below. “Waited long enough.”

“I’ll get him for you.” There’s a rattle as the discarded earpiece hits the desk, and as the crunching beneath the strangers feet gets louder, the hushed whispering on Taemin’s end gets louder. The more frantic they get, the more agitated he becomes, vein in his neck throbbing as his head jerks to one side, muscles coiled and ready to pounce. A lot like your own, legs aching from being so tightly wound with stress.

There’s an abrupt break in the dull noise and chatter before the gentle chime of hold music cuts through, and then the hiss of white noise and the rev of a car's engine. And Jimin.

“This is Detective Park.” His voice sounds guarded from the moment he speaks, and you assume Hoseok had spoken to him quickly before handing the call over. “What is it that I can do for you?”

“Wanted to say–” His head jerks again, swallowing as though the words are hard to get out. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Huh?” Jimin’s front disappears, clearly caught too off guard to keep his usual composure.

“All the years of being so selfish, you finally did something for me.” The stranger's tone is awfully bittersweet, and it sends chills down your spine. “I’m happy. Things can be much more simple this way.”

“And what way is that?” There’s the blare of a car horn cutting through Jimin’s words, and you hear his car rev even harder as he drives as fast as he can during no doubt lots of peak hour traffic.

“You left her alone.” Your heart feels hollow, heaviness sinking into your stomach like that’s where it decided to fall, and your lower lip shakes before you hold it tight between your teeth, enough for an iron tang to coat your tongue. “I can...finally take care of her. The way she deserves.”

“Listen to me.” You’ve never heard Jimin’s voice sound so dark and thunderous, and it makes goosebumps pimple the skin of your exposed arms. “I’m only going to say this once, Jungkook.”

‘Jungkook’ stiffens, breath pushing through his nose in a huff before he starts to breathe roughly, a grating in his lungs like he can’t quite get enough air in. And it’s then you register just who you’ve been looking at, the person you recognized in the elevator, the boy behind the desk in the lobby of your apartment building…

The same boy who’d been so young and timid when he’d approached you in the lunchroom at the station, stammering and shaking as he’d confessed how pretty you were, and how he’d like to know if you wanted to come to the cafe across the street for lunch.

The same boy Jimin had laughed at, ruffled the hair of, and teasingly told that you weren’t free real estate. That he had kissed you right in front of; Jungkook’s expression tight, embarrassed, and whispered in your ear how ‘cute’ it was that you’d gained an admirer. Not seeing the way the young cadet's face had pinched and the way his frame had caved in to make himself seem smaller.

The same boy you’d defended with a gentle push and a light giggle against Jimin’s chest, telling him not to tease. Jungkook hadn’t looked at you when you thanked him for the compliment, or apologised for Jimin’s well-intended need to poke fun. In fact he didn’t look at you much after that...and you didn’t care enough to notice. You couldn’t even pinpoint the last time you’d seen him and recognized him, remembered his name or said hello. He’d merely faded into the background of your life along with the crowd. And the guilt feels nauseating as it creeps like thorny tendrils up your throat, choking the air from your lungs.

“If you even think for one second that you’re going to get as close to her as you did today ever again, you have another thing coming.” The more Jimin speaks the colder your blood runs, and you can’t help but note the irony of his words. “I’m not going to leave her side, not even once you’re gone. I’m going to catch you, Jungkook, and when I do, you’d better hope karma doesn’t catch up to you with me.”

Jungkook starts to shudder in front of you, and it takes you a tense second to realise he’s laughing. Chuckles wracking his chest until he wheezes for breath, and you can barely hear Jimin still talking over the sound of his husky coughing.

“Locking you in a psych ward would be a mercy for you, Jungkook. You’ll be lucky if Hoseok gets to you before I do.”

“Oh, hyung.” Jungkook giggles but Jimin isn’t done.

“You’ve gotten messy Jungkook, and today is the end of your little game.” Jimin grunts, the car revving again, and you pray he’s on his way to you. Unsure how long this can be dragged out before Jungkook snaps and rips your apartment apart, no doubt finding you in the process and carrying out whatever god-awful plans he’d had in mind tonight. “Your plan is over, she’s not going to be one of your victims. But you’ll be one of mine, that I can guarantee you.”

“It’s all mine, hyung.” Jungkook stops giggling, going so still and stone-faced it’s almost too haunting to witness. “This life. Being here with her. It was always meant to be me.” Jungkook's head hits the glass of your window with a heavy thud, and you jump in shock. Your eyes are still leaking slowly with tears, growing more blurry and stinging the longer you stare, and through your muddled thoughts, you’ve forgotten yourself.

So when he finally turns, the glow of the city haloing his face as he drops the phone in his hand to the floor with a clatter, his eyes lock onto yours instantly, where you’ve leant too far out of the safety of your hiding spot. And Jungkook’s lips twist in a shaky smile as he raises his voice. “She’s tried so hard to hide for you, hyung.”

Jimin doesn’t reply, and you’d almost think the line was cut could you not hear the struggle of him trying to speed through unseen traffic. Your eyes slips from Jungkook’s face to the phone discarded at his feet, tears dripping to the carpet once again, and it takes the crackle of debris under his shoe to note he’s turning further toward you, and its then you see the glint of the large dagger reappearing in his hand

“I ‘can’t get near her’?” Jungkook’s words have your eyes quickly lifting to meet his again, and you can’t even tell how badly you’re shaking, nails painfully dug into the carpet as he twists his neck to the side with a dull crack. “I don’t think your car is that fast, Jimin-hyung.”

Torn from your throat is the scream that shatters the silence, numb legs scrambling underneath you as he takes his first step in your direction, and you stumble over your own feet before picking up speed and shooting as fast as you can down the hallway. Your heart thunders in your ears as you feel the vibrations of Jungkook’s feet slapping even harder against the floor behind you, and it’s by sheer miracle that you manage to tear through the door to your bedroom seconds before he can catch up.

The slam of the door behind you hurts your arms with the force with which you push it, back pressed flat against it as you pray to whatever god might hear you for help. The sobs that are escaping you go without your notice, heaving pulls for air as you desperately try to blink the tears from your eyes and you cry out loud as the door is almost pushed out from behind you, wood creaking as Jungkook slams against with an almost inhumane sound of anger.

“_____... let me in before I have to hurt you.” You’re frozen against the door, heels pressed painfully into the floor as you hold the door in place with all the strength you can muster. And for a few seconds you almost believe it's working, hope creeping up your spine that you can hold him off long enough for someone to come to your aid.

The door shakes with a loud clunking noise right beside your head, before all attempts of penetration stop, and your head whips to the side as you listen to his footsteps start to retreat, heart thrashing in your hollow chest.

And then movement catches your eye across the room, and you compute the creeping of his shadow coming from your adjoining bathroom with a shriek as you scramble for the doorknob beside you.

Only for the knob to loosely rattle in the frame, mechanism broken from the outside, and you then realise your mistake. The reality of how trapped you are sinking in as he steps out into your line of sight, bloody knuckles and fingers red from his efforts. And you shrink into yourself in the corner of your room, eyes sliding shut as you begin to sob in fear once more.

His footsteps are deafening in the silence, the heavy sigh he releases as his feet come into your blurred vision humidly warm on the back of your necks as he leans down, bent at the waist. A cold chill runs down your spine when you feel his fingers on your hair, nails slipping in close to your scalp and filling your mouth with bile at the feeling of stickiness on his skin dragging through the strands.

Slowly, he crouches down, filling your nose with a sharp combination of fresh sweat, blood and an almost alarmingly clean scent. Disinfected. Citrus. Bleach. The way one may smell after visiting a hospital. And it burns. Singes through your noise and has every last inch of your body cringing in discomfort.

“Look at me.” His voice is alarmingly soft, almost sickly in its sweetness, and your skin crawls as he strokes through your hair again, playing with it with that same air of familiarity that he’d portrayed in the living room. Moving naturally as though he’d done so a million times over, his hand slips down to the back of your neck, cupping a cold chill around your nape with freezing fingers that has you shrinking even further into yourself. Every nerve ending in your body screaming at you to get away from him. “_____.”

The next few beats of silence are shattered as he rips his hand from your hair, stinging pains of tangled strands being pulled from the tender area of skin pulling another sob from your throat as his now free hand cracks against the wall beside you with force. You straighten up instantly, eyes clenched tight, not having to look to know the plaster is caved in around his fist and only able to feel slightly thankful the lash of anger hadn’t been directed at your body.

“Look at me!” You can feel the drops of spittle hitting your face and he screams hoarsely, voice cracking on the last word as the now even more injured hand returns to your chin to pull your attention. And with a shuddering breath that feels void of oxygen, your head spinning too much to focus properly as the adrenaline and fear spikes in your blood, you force your eyes open to land on his hallowed face.

Jungkook is far from the way he had lived in your memory. Bigger, yet more hollow. Stronger, but with a weakness floating just beneath the surface waiting to be broken. Older, and somehow still seeming so young behind the pain in his eyes. The Jungkook sat before you had physically grown, but mentally his pain is real, raw, as though it were just yesterday you’d managed to tear his heart apart and leave him cracked and broken at the seams. The only solace he’d found to hold himself together being the anger that lives now in his core, the expression being that of someone that loves you, but the energy of someone that has nothing but hatred in his being for you.

So many emotions are conveyed in his eyes, it’s hard to look at, but the terror you feel has you unable to look away, as though watching a hundred cars crash together at once.

“Don’t cry, I’m gonna take care of you.” Gut wrenching, you flinch as his hand lifts to brush stickiness over the tear tracks under your eyes, and you can feel the thickness of blood now streaking your face and suffocating your pores. He leans in close, breath washing over your cheeks, and you can feel the cool of the wet spots his fingers had left behind.

“Please don’t kill me.” The whisper is ripped from your raw throat before you can stop it, the chill in your hands and feet reaching all the way through your arms, legs and torso, as though he’d reached right through your ribs and grabbed a hold of your heart.

“He can’t have you.” The venom is back in his voice as he twitches, hand shaking under your chin before he moves it down to brush his fingers over your exposed clavicle, running a careful thumb right over your carotid artery, and you flinch away again as his fingers stray even further down towards your breasts, his breathing starting to come in pants before he groans. “Can’t.”

Crowding into your space, Jungkook leaves no room for you to dodge his advance as his grip returns bruisingly on your jaw and he pushes forward to press his lips against yours. His kiss is hard, painful and wet, with the moisture on your face. His tongue slips in around the cry of shock that escapes you, and for a few nauseating seconds you’re subjected to what you can only think he imagines to be a passionate kiss.

You turn your face in an attempt to break the kiss, but he follows you, hand pushing back across the left side of your face to curve around your ear and pull your lips back to his, leaving an agonising spike of pain behind as he jarr’s your neck in the process. Your hands are trapped against his chest, pressing futilely, unable to gather enough strength in your arms to push him away.

In one last desperate attempt, you open your mouth into his kiss and as his tongue slides across your lip and back into your mouth, you quickly bare down and bite his tongue as hard as you can. Blood is coating the back of your teeth when he rips away from you, and you spit it out without a second thought, flinching as he changes like a lightswitch. “No! Mine! You’re mine!”

In a flash the desperate softness is gone, the hollow emptiness back in his eyes as he grabs you by the throat and pulls you from the faux security of your corner with a painful tug. You wheeze as he pulls you close, wrapping the dagger-wielding arm around your waist and using his hold to twist your feet out from under you and push you backwards in the direction of your bed.

“Can’t have you–can’t have you. Won't let him.”

It’s your body's natural instinct to struggle, and struggle you do. Arms pinned under his are barely of use, but you thrash them anyway, unable to scream with the pressure he still holds on your neck, but your throat muscles contract painfully under his hand regardless. Only managing an airy screech, you break off into a choked gasp as the cold of the dagger finds its way onto your skin through your shirt, moments before he releases his hold and lets your weakened body drop back onto the bed.

The moment his hold is relinquished on your airways you’re gasping for air and bunching your legs up towards your chest as he rushes to climb utop you. Every self defense masterclass Jimin had ever made you take flashes through your mind as his hips quickly move in to press against the backs of your thighs, and you muster all the strength you can in your arms to lifts them right as he swoops in and brace your splayed palms firmly against the front swells of his shoulders.

Jungkook bares down against you with his entire body weight, and even as the both of you grunt in effort, his hold on the dagger limits his mobility just enough, too focused on getting his body as flush to yours as he can. The fingers of the hand not holding his weapon are slipping under your waistband, sticky, cold fingertips clawing at your bare flesh in struggle, and encouraging your efforts as you keep your arms locked at the elbows and plant your left foot on the bed. Jimin’s voice is in the back of your head, screaming the instructions at you over and over again, and you quickly twist to the left, right leg curling up even further until your foot can find the bend of his pelvis.

The pressure of your foot pushing him forces the hand on your hip to tear back out from inside your pants and clutch at the bed, trying to keep his stability, and hope reignites in your chest as he sways long enough for your hold to slip from his shoulders to just above his elbows. From here you have enough mobility to bring your left leg up to match the right on his other hip, effectively trapping him where he is and keeping him slightly off kilter.

The fabric underneath you makes it harder to move up the bed away from him as he pushes against you with a growl of anger, frustration clearly getting to him as he struggles to retrieve the power you’ve managed to regain. But with a relieved sob, the strength of your legs is just enough to have him slipping back on his knees, increasing the space between your bodies with only a slight struggle.

His anger mounts to the point where he attempts to lash out again, losing his grasp on the dagger somewhere in the sheets as he tries to pull back out of your hold, swaying only for a moment before attempting to swing the momentum towards you. Yet with a flash of movement, and the miracle of space between you, your leg rears back far enough to get some force behind it, and with your hands slipping down to claw a rough grip on his wrists, you deliver a swift, straight-on kick to his stomach.

Visibly winded, Jungkook forgets his advancement on you with a pained gasp, falling far enough back to slip half off the edge of the bed, barely catching one leg under him on the floor and one knee on the mattress as he curls over on himself and dry heaves a sob of absolute torture.

Taking the small window of chance you have, you don't look twice – rolling off to the side and falling onto the floor yourself. Ignoring the pain in your knees, as you scramble your limbs under you, and make a break for the bathroom doorway.

The roar of pure rage behind you has every hair on your body standing on end, and you scream as you slip on the bathroom tiles, almost losing your footing before you manage a hold on the bathroom counter. Dashing off to the left once you’re stable enough, you try your best to ignore the crash of Jungkook’s pursuit as he collides with the door behind you and seemingly breaks it right off its hinges.

He’s still affected by the aftershocks of your kick, gasping and staggering as his body tries to recover while he still pushes himself, but you’re equally struggling as your nerves are locked up with anxiety, legs stiff and uncoordinated as his growing proximity has you panicking. Right after you tear out into the hall, arm brushing against the wall as you swerve, he clashes with the plaster right behind you, reaching out and swiping at you roughly with the dagger. And you can hear the whistle of the blade slicing through the air, missing you by millimetres...the first time

“Help me, ple–ah!” You shout as the dagger manages to catch you on an upsweep, grazing your shoulder and sending a burning pain instantly across the area of skin. You grab your shoulder, staggering again before picking up the pace and finally escaping the hall into the openness of your living area. “Help!”

“No!”

As you manage to round the island in the centre of your kitchen, Jungkook finally comes to a stop on the opposite end of the table. There, the two of you stand-off in a tense silence, staring hard at each other as you both pant for breath. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the countertop, a streak of it marring his chin before he lifts an equally bloody hand and swipes at it, careless of the proximity of the weapon he holds as he spreads the red stain further across his skin.

Neither of you move for a good few moments, and as you start to catch your breath, and the ringing in your ears starts to wind down, you hear it.

Sirens. Loud. And getting closer by the second. And–

“_____!” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the tension, the door to your apartment rattling as he bashes into it from the outside. “_____! Let me in, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“N–No! NO! YOU’RE MINE. MINE! HE DOESN’T GET THE HAPPINESS I DESERVED!” Jungkook steps to the side, as if to dash around the island towards you, but you immediately counter his movement with a step of your own, closer to the apartment door, and he immediately corrects himself and steps back, which you mirror.

“_____! The code! What’s the code?!” Taehyung is desperate, and it has Jungkook panicking even more, head whipping off to the side before snapping back to you.

“It's over, Jungkook.” You whisper, calming down faster as you listen to the sirens get even closer. They’re right outside now, and you know it’s only a minute or two before they get up here. But as you watch, Jungkook starts to shake with fury, and faster than you can comprehend, he’s flicking the dagger in his hand to pinch the blade between forefinger and thumb before lining up his shot and readying himself to launch it at you.

You won’t be able to move fast enough, this much you know instantly, and the sudden confrontation has you panicking, eyes wide with shock and pulling a smirk on his lips as he watches your expression change.

“If I can’t have you, _____. No one can.”

“Taehyung! The code is 64785!” You act on survival instinct, hands grabbing ahold of the counter as Jungkook’s arm rears back, and you can hear the beeping of Taehyung entering the code immediately, hope blooming in your chest.

But dread is what holds onto your heart like cement.

“I’m going to kill your friend.” Jungkook’s voice is merely a poisonous whisper, and as fast as you can register his words, he’s moving. The small throwing knife he has procured in his left hand whips through the air faster than you can move. You throw yourself to the side, regardless, not even registering the chime of your apartment door unlocking or the crash of Taehyung breaching the entryway.

Pain flares through your right arm as the knife embeds itself through a decent amount of flesh, a shriek leaving you as you sway off to the side and collapse to the floor. But the sight of the two men before you colliding in the entryway of your apartment is what truly leaves pain stabbing through your heart.

Taehyung barely manages to throw a punch in Jungkook’s direction, too distracted with your collapse and not enough on the opponent in front of him, and in one short, swift movement, Jungkook curls his arm between them, and pierces the blade right into Taheyung’s stomach.

“NO!” The scream that rips from your throat is dry and burning, and tears well up anew in your eyes with a feeling akin to needles. Futile, you struggle on the floor with only one good arm, immediately beginning to crawl towards the pair as Taehyung drops to his knees, eyes wide and gasping up at Jungkook’s still form.

Jungkook let’s go as Taehyung falls, leaving the dagger embedded in his abdomen and turning to you with an empty look. You can still hear Taehyung fighting for air as Jungkook takes his next steps towards you, watching with an almost numb expression as you whimper and battle with your own body to move backwards away from his approach.

“_____!” The two of you have barely a moment to freeze in place as heavy footsteps scatter into the hallway outside your apartment, and Jungkook cracks. You can barely hear your own noises of panic as he launches himself at you, scrambling to do whatever he can to reach you but Jimin is faster. You can only watch as Jungkook spins on his heel to meet him head on, as Jimin crashes into him.

They fall hard in front of you, Jimin immediately gaining the upper hand and rearing above Jungkook to rain a heavy fist down over his face, but Jungkook recovers faster than you’d have expected, hand pulling from his side with a glint of silver, and Jimin’s name leaves you in dry shriek as Jungkook swipes up from underneath and tries to stab into his chest.

Jimin manages to jerk back fast enough, the thin blade now in Jungkook’s hand only managing to very slightly slice through Jimin’s shirt and over his stomach before the knife is knocked from his hand, but you heave and scramble up onto your knees as a sliver of blood is left behind and Jungkook is rearing back for another attempt. He uses his advantage of having gotten Jimin off balance over him, lifting his body and using the space between them to land a well placed palm into his jaw, and you sob as Jimin’s back and head hit the floor with a dull thud.

You move in synchrony with Jungkook, lifting yourself up even as your legs scream beneath you. The dazed, pained look on Jimin’s face and the sight of Jungkook getting the upper hand, wide, bloody palms wrapping tight around Jimin’s neck and the choked sound that escapes him filling you with enough energy to launch yourself forward.

“Jimin!” Hoseok finally appears in the doorway in your peripheral vision. “_____! Fuc–!”

Jungkook howls and jerks under you as you pierce his back with the blade you’d ripped from your own arm, the blood covering your hand making it harder to hold it firm but the pure blind panic filling your every sense keeping your grip tight even as he twists off Jimin and attempts to face the new attack.

Twice, three times, four–eight–eleven–nineteen, thirty.

You have no idea how many times your fist plunges the blade into Jungkook’s abdomen, losing time in the grey haze that settles over your mind.

“_____! Jesus, fuck, baby stop! He’s dead, baby, stop!”

Jimin holds you tight, battling the way you thrash and twist in his arms as he attempts to catch your chin and tilt your face towards his. You’re gagging on your own gasps, whimpering and pushing at his chest as he drags you further away from where Jungkook’s body lays prone between the back of your couch and the island. The knife he’d wrangled free of your fist lays somewhere in the splattered pool of blood that halo’s Jungkook’s form.

Slowly, slowly, you come to, and the moment your body recognizes the safety and warmth of Jimin’s embrace, you sag into his arms with a heavy sob, clutching at him tighter than ever as more voices fill the room.

But nothing else matters now, because the only thing you can hear is his heart as yours beats in sync.

**********

You haven’t a clue what time it is, staring blankly at the wall of Jimin’s office as people rush back and forth outside the glass windows. Only thin slivers of light make it through the shuttered blinds, casting beams of white that barely manage to light up the room. Shivering again, you tuck your feet tighter beneath you on the leather chair, Jimin’s blazer pulled tight around your shoulders, and you bury your nose down into the fabric, trying to fill your senses with him as an attempt to keep yourself calm.

The numb feeling that had gripped ahold of you hadn’t yet dissipated, sticking around long after the tears had dried up, eyes burning and head throbbing with pain. Detective ‘So-and so’ Min had done his best to take your statement, frowning and sighing through your harrowed silence and broken sentences, finally conceding when Hoseok had quickly dismissed the questions for the rest of the day.

Jimin had been pulled from you shortly after arriving at the station, promising to come back to you within a couple of minutes but disappearing for close to an hour. You could only console yourself with the knowledge it wasn’t by choice, only imagining the pile of questions and paperwork that had awaited him, regardless of how badly you ached to be back in his arms.

Hoseok had come in to check on you periodically, but even he had left you to the silence, instead retreating to his own office with the reminder he was only next door if you needed anything. You appreciate the sentiment.

Your eyes had begun to grow heavy quickly, drooping and fluttering before a noise in the hall outside would have you jumping back into place with your heart beating out of your chest and your skin crawling. Each time forcing yourself to calm down with whispered words, closing your eyes and reminding yourself that you were safe, and Jungkook couldn’t get near you anymore. But after last night, nowhere felt secure enough to calm your raging anxiety.

Footsteps outside the door merge with a shadow, breaking through the blinds and flowing over you before they stop behind the wood and the handle gently turns. You no longer have the energy to greet Hoseok each time he comes in, so you stay in place on Jimin’s office chair, almost huddling yourself deeper into his blazer.

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice immediately breaks through your exhaustion, and your head whips to the side as you quickly stand to meet him, blazer falling to the floor without a second glance. His arms wrap around your shoulders, and your face buries into the warmth of his chest, inhaling his scent deeply as you shiver against him. Instantly, his palm is stroking the back of your head, squeezing you tight enough to make you feel like you’re whole again, and you finally start to feel more at ease just being with him. “The doctors got back to us about Taehyung.”

“He’s okay?” You pick your chin up only far enough to see up into his eyes, and he gives you a tired smile, hand shifting around to cup your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“He’ll definitely be sore for a while, but he’s being well taken care of. There’s no serious damage done which is very lucky.” Your bottom lip quivers, the relief affecting you more than you thought it would; cracking through the emotionless shell that had started to harden on your face. Jimin pulls you close again, this time pressing his lips gently to your forehead before rocking you back and forth, and your eyes instinctively slip shut. “You already know he doesn’t blame you for what happened, sweetheart. He’s just happy you’re safe.”

“He could’ve died.” Your voice is little more than a croak, throat too dry and tender to speak comfortably at regular pitch, and you can feel Jimin shake his head slowly where his lips are still pressed against you.

“He’s not the only one.” He reminds you, finally relinquishing the embrace to lean down and sweep the blazer from the floor, shaking it out before slipping it back around your shoulders and rubbing firmly up and down your sides. You can see the muddy stain of dried blood on his neck, knowing just as well that your own body has similar stains in a few areas –some more intense than others– as well as a few aches and pains.

The arm which Jungkook had managed to injure was luckily all flesh wounding, the angle having merely skimmed past the muscle and luckily left no permanent muscular damage, and a small pit stop at the hospital, some high strength anti inflammatory painkillers, and a short sit had you stitched right up in no time. And even better was the mark on your back, barely a scratch that had felt like a scarring wound.

But the fatigue hasn't taken long to catch up to you, your body weary from stress and adrenaline, aches that only time will fix lingering in your bones, and now that he’s back with you, it makes it ten times harder to resist finally letting your eyes fall shut. And though Jimin wears a strong mask of composure for you, the tightness around his eyes and the slack of his shoulders tells you more than he could ever say.

“You’re okay too, right?” Pulling away, you look down at his stomach, mind flashing back to the sliver of red Jungkook had swiped across his stomach, and you automatically reach for the hem of his freshly-changed tshirt. He chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs your hand halfway, and you frown up at him.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.” You continue to press on, waving off his attempts to convince you, but you quickly see he’s not just lying for your benefit when the toned muscles are revealed. “Heh–“

You can certainly see the mark, a thin, arching line that starts deeper to the left of his navel and the feathers off up under the right side of his ribcage. It’s still more than you would want, but you’re relieved to see no stitches or heavy bandaging, the sliver of damage no doubt going to disappear in a few days.

“See?” He teases, distending his tummy out and slouching to make his stomach more pronounced, only stopping when your lips lift and you poke at his bellybutton. Bright smile dropping, he pulls your hand till his shirt falls and holds you close again, looking down into your drooping eyes. “There’s that smile.”

For a few calm, peaceful moments, the two of you stand in the hush of his darkened office, ignoring the bustle of the work outside the door. Looking into his eyes, there’s so much sitting within them that you know he wants to say, and you don’t doubt he finds the same in yours. So much has happened in the last 12 hours that your outlook on life and the way you want to live it has changed entirely. Including who you want to live it with.

But before anything can be said, Jimin squeezes you tight around the middle and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before taking your hand in his and leading you away from his desk.

“Let’s go home.”

**********

A sense of relaxation, even as the bureau disappears into the horizon behind Jimin’s car, seems far off and unattainable as ever, the silence between the two of you covered with the layer of deafening noise within your own head. Jimin’s hand moves occasionally between the gearstick and your thigh, fingers warm and grounding as he does his best to soothe the war he can see raging behind your irises.

Your skin stays raised in goosebumps under the too-thick fabric of your jeans, the layers of clothes tightly trying to hold you together whilst only making your skin feel like it’s ready to rip apart. Exhaustion weighs heavy in your bones but your muscles haven’t seemed to lose their sense of adrenaline, and the way each different part of your body fights for your brain's attention makes you feel even more numb while you try to overcome the overload of sensation.

Every dark corner and unfamiliar noise on the way up to Jimin’s apartment has you flinching and holding onto his arm tighter and tighter, but he simply pulls you into his side and wraps his arm around you, pressing his lips to your temple as the elevator stops on his floor and he leads you down the hall.

The chime of the security system locking only serves to make you feel the slightest bit safer, and as much as it makes your head hurt to consider, you can’t help but remind yourself over and over that Jungkook is dead, and he can’t get near you anymore.

“You want some water? How is your head feeling?” You turn to look at Jimin as he gently pulls the jacket from your shoulders and slips it over the back of the nearest dining chair.

“I don’t think this headache is gonna go away with just aspirin.” You try to lift one side of your mouth into a smile but you lack the energy, and Jimin frowns at the emptiness behind your eyes. “My brains working way too hard trying to process this whole...this whole day. I don’t know what I’m meant to do, I just...I feel so numb, Jimin. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like myself again.”

“No one expects anything from you right now, _____.” Jimin steps forward to rub at your arm, and you feel sick to find that this kind of careful, weary comfort does nothing but make your skin crawl. You crave more from Jimin, the kind of consolation you know only he can provide you, and though the hurt flashes deep in his eyes before he can hide it, you’re recoiling out of his reach and taking a deep, shaking breath. “And you don’t have to try and force yourself to process this. Take your time, reflect on the way you want to feel, and we can go from there.”

You stay looking into Jimin’s eyes, soaking yourself in the underlying strength he’s always been able to hold even on his most tired of days, and trying your best to take some of that on yourself. And after a few moments of silence, you step forward and wrap your arms around his middle, closing your eyes when he returns your embrace and squeezes you tightly.

He holds you there. Long enough that you start to feel the way he’s holding the million fragile pieces you’d become, together in one piece in the palms of his hands. Achy bodied, you eventually pull back just far enough to look up into his face, and he immediately presses a soft kiss on the crinkle between your brows “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

“I’d…really like a shower.”

He nods, smiling gently, and seconds later he’s pulling you through to the bathroom and leaving you momentarily to fetch a change of clothes from his room for you. Though you’d rather avoid it, your eyes immediately run over your reflection in the mirror, and you find yourself leaning in close as though you can search for the answers to your hundred and one questions somewhere in your hallowed eyes. There’s a few smudges of blood still on your chin and neck that you hadn’t managed to clean up completely, and the water from the tap is freezing on your skin as you scrub it raw.

When you finally stand from where you’d bent over the sink, whipping at your dripping chin, you make eye contact with Jimin behind you in the mirror, and it takes the heavy look on his face and the breathlessness taking over your chest to realise you’d started to gasp for air, eyes growing teary and aching.

“Oh, baby.” He drops the clothes and towel on the bench beside you, pressing himself against your back and slipping his arms around you. One hand lifts to cup the side of your face, thumb meeting a stray tear halfway down your cheek and swiping it away. “Shh.”

“I can’t...I can’t go back, Jimin.” You sob roughly as he holds you even tighter, keeping his eyes locked on yours no matter how much you blink or shake. “Everything I own, he’s tainted. My home isn’t my home anymore. I don’t have anything, I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

“Shhh, sweet, silly girl.” Pulling you until you face him again, Jimin cups both your cheeks. “I’m right here. What’s mine is yours, _____. Always has been, always will be. No matter what you need, you have it. Even my heart is yours, _____. That’s never changed even for a second.”

“I love you, Jimin.” It’s not at all the way you’d hoped to have told him, feeling so out of sorts it’s hard to recognize your own reflection as yourself, but if anything has shown you that time is too short to bite your tongue over the way you feel, it’s today.

Jimin inhales, not a gasp but a deep, steadying breath, and his thumbs indent the soft parts of your cheeks as his hands tighten their hold on your face. Your fingers tangle in the hem of his shirt as he leans down closer, and you almost shut your eyes on instinct before your lashes flutter open again.

“I love you. So much.” Stroking over your cheeks, his thumbs trail down to your jaw before he slips one hand behind your neck, the other dropping to hold you tight against him with a palm pressed to the small of your back. “My darling girl. I love you more than you can ever know.”

Jimin’s lips meet yours like two waves crashing together, colliding against each other before blending together as one, and as your eyes slip closed, and Jimin guides your head to deepen the kiss, you finally get that feeling of safety and comfort that you’d been waiting for.

There is no goal to be made in this embrace, no race to be won. Simply the two of you locked so tightly together as you both give your entire soul to make the other feel all the things you want to say but can’t find the words for. Jimin’s hand cupping the side of your neck sweeps back, shifting your hair behind you, and soon his arm is holding you tight as his palm finds the nape of your neck, and the hand on your lower back relaxes and comes forward to hold you at the hip.

The skin of Jimin’s stomach is balmy on your palms where your hands have slipped beneath his shirt, searching for his warmth as you start to shiver in his arms, and he pulls away from you to press heated lips down over the tear tracks on your cheek.

His lips find yours with a soft press one, two, three more times before he simply rests his forehead against yours and holds you close for a moment, nothing but the sound of your two heartbeats to fill the silence. “Shower?”

“Yes, please.” You concede his pulling away from you, trying not to feel too hollow when his warmth moves away from your chilled skin, watching as he flicks the shower taps on with practiced ease, adjusting it to the best temperature and holding his hand beneath the stream to test the heat. “Will...will you stay with me?”

There’s not even a second thought crossing your mind before you ask, the sheer desperation to keep Jimin close at all times for the foreseeable future, something you don’t dare to deny yourself for the fear you may fall apart without him.

“Of course I will.” When you glance back up, Jimin is already looking at you over his shoulder, shaking the water off his hand before turning to close the bathroom door most of the way shut. Your hands reach for his shirt as he returns to you, and he doesn’t question you for a moment, simply lifting his arms above his head and letting you slip the fabric from him and drop it to the floor. He finds the buckle of his pants on his own, belt clanking on the floor with his shirt before he kicks the slacks to the side and soon he’s completely bare in front of you, both body and soul, and before you can think he’s reaching out to help you.

Kneeling on one knee, Jimin quickly and gently plucks open the button of your jeans before shuffling the too-tight fabric down your legs. He soothes the goose-pimpled chill that follows with a caressing hand as you lift each foot out of the jeans one at a time, instinctively using his shoulders to stabilise yourself and letting your eyes slip closed as he presses the softest of kisses along your inner left thigh, his hand cupping your calf as you find your balance again.

Your shirt and bra are handled in the same manner, Jimin’s tentative touches and soothing warmth seeming to cover every place you need it to, and when you’re down to just panties you take that step yourself, hooking your thumbs under the band and letting them drop to the floor before Jimin grasps your hand and pulls you into the steam-filled shower.

The water is almost too hot, the steam fogging up the glass walls and blocking out the outside world, and you finally allow yourself to relax into Jimin’s arms fully, the warm water streaming over the back of your hair and down your spine as your bare flesh presses to his completely. It's been so long since you’ve felt comfort to this extent, and you can help but hum into the base of his throat as his fingers run down the length of your spine to tickle circles into the small of your back.

Your arms are wound loose around Jimin’s hips, as you allow him to simply guide you himself, twisting the two of you side to side under the stream of water, avoiding your bandaged arm regardless of the waterproofed dressing. One arm releases you to reach somewhere behind you, and the sound of a bottle cracking open echoes against the tiles moments before you feel him rub his hands together.

Reaching up to pull your hair away up from your back, you look up as Jimin presses his lips to your forehead, hands finding the base of your spine and massaging the tense muscles lining your back to up and around the base of your neck. The water streams down between your bodies from the side where he’s turned you, slicking up the press and slide of him moving against you, and your eyes slip shut again as you simply enjoy the feeling as he washes the rest of your body.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you the way I should’ve been.” Your eyes snap open as you feel his fingers trace the outside of the bandage on your arm, and you can see the complete devastation in Jimin's face without even needing him to meet your eyes.

“Jimin.” You let go of your hair, trading it to hold his face until he finally returns your gaze, and you can’t help but press a kiss to his lower lip, unable to resist now that you’ve been given the chance again. “Jimin, I’m alive because of you.”

“You’re in this position because of me.” He pulls away from you, using his hold on your hips to push you back under the water until you’re forced to let go of him. He guides your head back under the stream further until every inch of your hair is drenched and then pushes you to turn until your back is to him. “Because of the way I acted. If I had been better, if I’d done the right thing and treated people the right way back then...none of this would have happened.”

“Stop.” You reach back to grab his arm, pulling it around you and urging him to hold you tight. “I dont...I can’t talk about things like this, please.”

Jimin spins you once more in his arms, eyes still sad but a twist to his mouth that tells you he’s doing his best to do as you ask, and you hold his gaze until you no longer can, hair rinsing out under the water.

He washes you from top to toe, cleaning every inch of you until you start to feel a little more human, a little more put together, and when he guides you to step from the shower it's straight into his arms and the fluffiest towel he owns before you can blink.

Nothing much else is uttered from there, only words unspoken that linger in his eyes as he dresses you and himself before tucking you into bed. And you simply lose yourself in those moments between consciousness and sleep, finding the only comfort you need in his arms and between his lips and yours.

**********

You’re torn from sleep by your own scream, mind unable to remember or comprehend the nightmare that had taken over you. Heart beating out of your chest, your eyes fly around the room before landing on Jimin’s worried face above you, and for a few seconds you simply stare at him as the ringing in your ears starts to subside and give way to the gentle murmuring of his voice as he does his best to reassure you.

“S-Sorry.” You sit up into his embrace with his help, sweeping the hair back away from your face and taking a shaky breath. Jimin stay’s close, pushing your hair behind your ear and blocking the outside world out as you slowly regain your composure.

“Don’t be.” He whispers into your cheek, nuzzling his nose against you and pulling you close as you both close your eyes and simply breath. You can hear the faint sound of the city below outside his bedroom window, but there is not yet any sunlight to break the darkness. “I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

You can’t explain the way you feel even to yourself, skin feeling too tight over your muscles and the sour sense of discomfort that has seemed to linger no matter the efforts of Jimin’s consolation. And nothing is truly as draining as the feeling of inescapable numbness that lines your consciousness, and you know it’s your brain struggling to process everything that’s happened and trying to give you something you can truly feel.

But all you can stand to feel is Jimin.

It takes a mere second to lift your head and press your lips to his, feeling his own part instantly in acceptance of your embrace while his hands press to your shoulder blades to help hold you where you’ve lifted yourself to wrap an arm around his neck. Yearning for more of his essence has you lifting yourself up onto your knees and crawling into the triangle of space between his own, and he cradles your waist as you move towards him.

Jimin’s hands tighten at your hips with the desperation building in the ardent presses of your lips and for a second you feel him start to pull back before his questioning hum is immediately silenced by your tongue trailing along his lower lip. All at once he withdraws from you, firm in his ignorance of your pleading whine as he pushes you back just far enough to stop your advances and fix you with a weary, confused expression.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Jimin pays no mind to the way you reach for him, holding you solidly in place as he studies your features carefully. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, I need to know you’re okay.”

“M’fine, J’min, please…” Your hands reach for him again and he lets you get close enough to touch, eyes still piercing as his brows pinch together in concern. “Just, I just wanna feel… something good. I–”

“Baby, I wanna take care of you.” He reassures you easily, finally letting you get close again without losing your eyes. “I want nothing more than to make you feel good in every way I possibly can. But I need to know that we’re doing things the right way for what's best for you right now.”

You gaze up at him quietly, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as he plays with the ends of your own. His brown eyes look black in the darkness of the night that paints his room, but there’s an uncompromising warmth that no amount of light or darkness has ever been able to hinder.

“Please.” Frustration starts to bubble in the pit of your stomach. The one thing you want right now so close yet so far in this moment that it has tears starting to prickle your tired eyes. Embarrassment whirls in the forefront of your mind but you’re too tired to care and, as a lonely tear manages to escape you, Jimin quickly surges forward and pulls you tight against him. Lips cover your cheeks in tiny kisses, and he hushes you gently as a whine is pulled out of your throat once more, only to be cut off but Jimin’s lips.

This kiss is different from the last. Heat now underlines the ardent press of his lips and he holds you close like he fears you may disappear into thin air should he release you. This time when you lift higher above him on your knees and slip a leg over his, his other hand follows to pull you more easily onto his lap, and his legs spread out beneath you as he slowly reclines back onto the bed.

You shuffle up, straddling his hips properly, and Jimin pushes your hair to one side when he reaches up to grasp your chin and pull you back down to his lips. You feel jumpy, almost like adrenaline, desperation in the way your hands press and grip at the hard curves of his shoulders and biceps, flexing when he’s got a handful of your thigh and is pulling you ever closer. His tongue meets yours with a tentative flick, teasing as you deepen the kiss and he sucks your lip between his teeth with a hum of pleasure.

His thighs twitch upwards when your hips start to roll slowly, without you even noticing, and the squeeze of flesh over your hip between his fingers has you jerking to a stop before pressing down again even harder, feeling the way his length starts to respond quickly under your ministrations as he groans into your mouth.

Breathlessness pulls you away from him as your face starts to flush, starting to become overwhelmed by sensation as he caresses every inch of your body with his touch. But he doesn’t give you a moment of pause before moving his kisses down your neck, and a firm hand eases your head to one side to expose the most sensitive spot that he’s never forgotten about.

The spot that made your breath hitch under a gasp, and your hips undulate just that little bit faster. That one spot that, combined with the hand that has now crept up to tease the stiffening peak of your nipple through the fabric of your nightshirt, has the crotch of your shorts starting to stick between the apex of your thighs.

Jimin is unhurried when he reaches up, pulling the end of your shirt up and over your head to expose your torso, and as he thumbs at the waistband of your shorts, he presses his face into the swell of your breasts to take a deep inhale of your scent before pushing against you to lay you back on the bed. You cradle him to your chest, moaning as his hands slip underneath your shorts to take two handfuls of your ass and encourage you to lift up just enough to quickly pull the fabric from your legs.

It’s instinct, the way your hands immediately reach for Jimin’s own waistband to even the scores but you’re interrupted by your own gasp as he pushes you down with a hand on your chest, the second slipping between your thighs to leave you scrunching his waistband between your fingers. His heated stare keeps your gaze locked with his as he runs his fingers through your folds, gathering the wetness on his fingertips slowly as you gasp against his lips.

His mouth pouts against yours gently, eyes never breaking focus, and the corner of his lips perks up when you swallow a moan at the sparks of pleasure starting to ignite as he strokes slowly over your clitoral hood. Fabric crackling under your hands, you try and pull his hips closer to yours, but your efforts prove futile when he easily pulls further away to kiss down over your breasts. The sky outside is starting to lighten in the early morning sunrise, warm light only just starting to peak over the horizon, and it means that when Jimin finally pulls back to look down at your body properly, you can’t help but instinctively turn your head to the side shyly knowing he can see every inch of you like this.

“So beautiful.” Reverent hands glide down over your breasts and waist to squeeze the extra flesh at your hips, and though you’re embarrassed to know you’re not the skinny young woman Jimin once knew, the heat in his eyes when you meet them has your skin tingling with excitement. His hands push back up to cup and roll your breasts until the peaks of your nipples are tight against his palms, and this time when he leans down, it’s to envelope one into his warm mouth and roll it under his tongue.

Your back arches up into his ministrations, and you gasp into the empty air far too loudly for this time of morning, teeth clamping down on your lower lip as Jimin hums tingles of delight into your skin until you’re thoroughly covered in goosebumps. He then switches to your other nipple to repeat the sensations until you’re writhing uncontrollably, and when you finally break and jerk against him to reach down and wrap your hand around his hardened length through his shorts, he pulls back with a hiss and reaches back down between your thighs instead.

You moan as he slips further down the bed on his stomach, far enough down to lay his head on your thigh, and you blush heavily as his eyes land on your core, shining with desire and clenching down in despair as your craving peaks. A gentle thumb presses on your flesh, easing back the hood of your clitoris and before you can mumble a complaint about his staring, his mouth is enveloping the sensitive nerve in warmth as his tongue grazes against it roughly.

His hand moves down to tease his thumb around your slit, gauging just how wet you are before his tongue swipes down over your folds to leave you even wetter, making the gentle prodding of his finger a little easier as he starts to drag it harder and harder over your entrance until the flesh starts to part for him on it’s own.

“Hnng-ah!” There is nothing gentle about the way your hands grab and pull at Jimin’s hair, unable to control yourself as the pleasure blooms between your hips way more intense than you expected, but he quickly eases up at your overwhelmed whine, using just the tip of his tongue to gently flick and stroke over the pulsing nub. “D-Don’t–”

Jimin pulls back instantly, hand moving to carefully caress your outer thigh as he eases your legs back together under his chin. Concern is clear in his eyes and you bite your lips, feeling silly to have lost yourself so fast and worried him. “You okay? You wanna stop, sweetheart?”

“N-no! I-I’m sensitive. I just–” Heavy blush is warming your cheeks and Jimin smiles up at you softly as he presses a kiss to your knee. “I-I havent...nobodies...not since you.”

A sweet smile breaks across Jimin’s lips at at the darling way you shyly whisper the words, and he reaches down under you to wrap strong arms around your waist and pull you back up to sit in his lap, hips pressing firm against each other as he uses the freedom of his hands to run soothing fingertips up and down your back.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he pulls you close, and you can't help but return his smile as he leans in and puckers soft lips against the crease of your elbow.

“Me too.” You blink down at him in surprise, but he simply grins up at you before easing the flyaway hair at the back of your head down with gentle fingers. “It’s always been you, _____. I don’t think I could bring myself to even think about someone else.”

“I love you, Jimin.” Your arms and legs wrap tight around him, and he squeezes you tight to his chest with a happy hum.

“I love you.” His reply is muffled by the way your lips crash against his, and this time when you reach down to tug at his shorts, he lets you. Leaning back to brace himself on one arm, he lifts his hips until you can both shimmy the fabric off and under the sheets somewhere, and when you finally wrap your hand around him, and he groans deep in your mouth, the heat fully envelopes your mind and every sensation is full of Jimin like you’ve craved for so long.

His abdomen tenses as he thrusts up into your hold instinctively, and his hand loops around your wrist to tug your grip away from his sensitive member as he pulls you up over his hips and scooches up the bed until his back meets the headboard, staring up into your eyes. He breaks your gaze only to reach over into the bedside table, the small bottle he procures leaving a smile on your face as he uncaps the lubricant and squeezes some into his palm.

The gel is warm by the time he spreads it over his fingers and brings it between your thighs, and you lift yourself up just enough, bracing yourself with arms wrapped around his neck as your hips twitch at the gentle touch. Liberally, he spreads it over your folds, running his fingers through and down to your entrance with a tilted smile, and his grin only grows when your hips jerk unintentionally.

Barely a minute can pass before the slight touches become almost unbearable, and you’re reaching down behind yourself to grasp him at the base. But he catches your arm behind you quickly, hand leaving your core to run whatever is left on his fingers down his shaft until his hand meets yours. And together, with the slightest tilt of your hips, the two of you ease him between your walls.

You don't even notice that you're holding your breath, the tension in your body fully encompassed by the way you gradually relax down onto him, and for a few long moments, all either of you can do is revel in the feeling of being connected again. And even though the moment has only just begun, it already feels like coming home, body opening up for him as though he’d never left.

Jimin’s eyes flutter as his head hits the wood behind him with a dull sound, and your eyes zone in on the muscle in his jaw that clenches the lower you slide onto him. His hand wrapped around your wrist behind you gives a squeeze, and as your hips nestle deep into his, his free hand lifts to grip your face as his hips give an unintentional roll, and it's like a punch to the stomach as air finally rushes down into your lungs when you gasp, thighs immediately clamping down around him.

“O-oh!” You’re barely strong enough to hold yourself upright, the intensity of finally being this close to Jimin again is staggering, and you can’t control yourself as your hips jerk down into his, leaving the two of you gasping at the surge of unprecedented pleasure.

“Shit.” Jimin’s fingers squeeze a little harder as he groans, and your fingernails dig in on his shoulder as you watch heat swirl in his eyes, any sense of composure he normally holds completely lost. He pulls you closer by the chin, the heat of his breath now brushing over your lips, and the arm behind you pulls you even further against him as your walls give a shuddering squeeze as they clench around him rhythmically. He can feel the way your breath hitches against his face, and the slow dance starts as the two of you groan and pant, hips rolling slowly into desperation against each other.

Blood is starting to rush through your ears as your movements become more depraved, and the way he pushes against all the right spots inside you leaves your memories a mere shadow in the distance. Nothing you’ve ever felt compares to this moment in his arms, and the shock to your body has you hurtling into the abyss as you lose all semblance of self, feeling as though you're dissolving into him.

Sweat coats the skin between you, hips gliding in slick movements as you writhe against him,  and the moans vibrating through him hum right into your core, and you find yourself echoing him. He spears deep into you, another tilt of his hips and yours grazing the tip of his length deep into the front of your core, leaving you crying out as you finally fall against him, and with a sharp tug your lips are pressing to his and he’s drinking in the sounds that escape you like an elixir.

“H-nghh-ah!” Your eyes clench shut as you grasp for his hand behind you, fingers squeezing between his as he continues to roll his hips under you. And it’s with an impressive example of his restraint that he manages to slow them to an almost stop and pulls away from your lips to let you breath, throat burning around a shuddered breath that almost kicks into a sob with the moisture budding behind your lids.

“Baby.” Jimin eases you carefully back to the surface, and it takes you a few seconds to realise just how hard your panting against his neck, arms both around his neck as he strokes a gentle hand up your back and over the nape of your neck. “Baby, talk to me.”

“J’min.” Shock takes over as your voice wavers, and you swallow thickly as he eases you back from his neck to look into your eyes. Your core is still pulsing around him, but you’re grateful for the reprieve as the two of you start to calm down, needing just a moment to really soak it all in before you can revel in him too much.

“Breath for me.” You do as he says, taking a deep breath as he runs a gentle thumb under your eyes, and for a few seconds all you do is return his gaze as he runs his hands over your body. “Doing so well for me. So beautiful. Love you so much.”

The words are so quiet you could almost think he hadn’t meant to say them out loud, but the warmth in his eyes and the tilt of his lips say otherwise, and you give him a shy smile in reply, cheeks starting to heat. “I love you.”

Jimin pulls you down to his lips once more, and you meet him eagerly as the need in your centre returns with a vengeance. The hitch of a moan you feed into his lips is echoed by the pulse of his member deep inside you, and you lift yourself up just enough to feel the friction of his against your walls, smiling shakily as a hiss leaves his lips at your ministrations. The pleasure starts to take over the forefront of your mind again, and as your movements grow bigger and more eager, so does the knot starting to tighten between your hips.

“F-Feels s-so–” You sob, teeth finding your lower lip as you jerkily roll your hips into Jimins, and at his deep growl of pleasure your clit gives a heavy throb, and you fall back to brace yourself with hands on his thigh as you lift yourself with a debauched level of eagerness. Jimin’s hand drop to find your hips, fingertips deep in your flesh as he holds you tight and throws his head back in ecstasy. The way you can see his eyes roll back before he closes them tight, nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw, leaves you throbbing, and had you been of sound mind, the lewd sounds of your hips pushing and rolling against each other might’ve made you blush.

“S-So good, I–” But you’re in far too deep now, a hiccuped sob leaving you every time your hips drop into his, and Jimin is hardly faring any better as he grunts and moans, the veins in his neck popping as he swallows thickly, and your eyes catch on his tongue as it runs over his lower lip. Chin dropping forward, his eyes pierce straight into you when they finally open, and you almost jerk to a stop as the sight has your core clenching tight with a shocking pulse of lust.

“H-ah! I’m–!” Shuddering over him, you try to get back into a rhythm that resembles controlled, but fail miserably as Jimin leans up and forward to brace an arm behind himself as the other winds around your waist. You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, but you fumble as he gives a strong tug and leaves you gasping as his length pierces straight into you, deeper than before. And he is unwavering.

“Come on, baby.” Deep slaps of your hips against his echo around the room, almost drowned out by your cries as your entire body tenses with shock, and you can feel more than hear his groan as he leans in to suck your lower lip between his teeth, teasing you into a messy, breathless kiss that you can barely hold for half a second. You’re weak against him, entire body thrumming with a pleasure that is so wholly encompassing that it catches you off guard, and all you can do is take it as he pushes himself back until he’s laying back against the pillows. You’re too far gone to notice the hand he lifts to his lips until it’s too late, fingers wet with saliva when they slip down against your clit, and you choke on your own breath. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Your climax hits you like a freight train, not a sound or breath escaping you as you rip Jimin’s hand from between your thighs and fall down weakly against his chest. You can’t hear a single thing around the blood rushing through your head as you pull up and off Jimin’s length in instant oversensitivity, and he automatically catches you in his arms as he shushes your now heaving sobs.

“Good girl, baby. You did so good for me, sweet girl. God, you’re so beautiful cumming for me like that. Missed you so much–” Jimin brings you down, gentle kisses lining your cheek as he holds you close and whispers into your ear, and as you start to breath again, and your mind starts to slowly clear, you can feel the way your release eases down your folds and no doubt pools over his length.

“J’min.” You slowly pull back with a weak arm trying to brace you against the bed beside his head, and his eyes glint as he grins up at you, holding you carefully. He hushes you again, thumbing at your chin now as he pulls you in, and the kiss is tender against your swollen lips as he strokes his other hand down to your lower back.

You kiss languidly for a few minutes, the strength slowly returning to your limbs as you regain some energy, and ever so gradually, the kiss starts to grow more eager. And with the sheer burning heat of him right underneath you, it’s not hard to expect the way your body starts to desire the feel of him again.

He hisses as your hips undulate back down against him, the sensitive tip of his length grazing and parting through your folds and leaving you to moan against his lips as he twitches and grunts beneath you. The hand at your hip squeezes you tight, shifting to take a handful of your ass as he pulls you against him again before pulling away from your lips and fixing you with his heavy stare.

“Only if you’re sure baby.” You look at him for a moment, smile small but growing quickly as his thumb runs over your lower lip, and you quickly move in again to fix his lips against yours, and wordlessly you reach down to lift his length until it aligns with your core, grinning as he jerks and squeezes you in his hold.

Your jaw instantly drops, a heavy breath escaping the both of you as he parts your folds once more, and this time the slide is a little slower, a little more intense for you as he parts your walls and nestles deep inside, but it doesn't take long for you to start to rock back and forth over him, and Jimin hides his face in your neck as a high pitched sound of pleasure escapes him. Hips rolling, you close your eyes and focus on the sounds he makes as you pleasure him, engraving them in your mind and shuddering as they lift the hairs on the back of your neck.

Pulling back in an effort to ground yourself from becoming too lost in him too fast, you sit up slowly and start to properly move, pushing down on him right to the hilt before pulling away until his tip barely kisses the insides of your folds. The sunlight has peaked over the horizon in the distance, filling the room with a lavender glow that quickly intensifies as you ride him with increasing desperation, and soon his hands join your efforts and pull you against him as he gazes up at you heatedly. His lips are parted on his breath, and you bite down on your own as the sight of his eyes starting to roll again has your clit throbbing.

“Baby.” Jimin’s head flies back as you grind down on him hard, the delicious expanse of his neck now exposed to you as he cries out, and just by the sound of his breath hitching around his little gasps of pleasure and the way his hands are shaking, you can tell he’s starting to get close to his release. And so you double your efforts, slamming down against him hard enough to make you yourself cry out, eyes clenched shut as he brushes against the deepest spots. “F-Fuck!”

“Hmh-ah!” Your breath is punched out of you as you’re twisted to the side, your back hitting the bed unexpectedly, and your eyes shoot open to see Jimin now above you, length gripped in his hand as he squeezes the tip hard in a desperate attempt not to cum, while he growls as he pushes your legs apart and falls over you to claim your mouth once more.

His breath is scalding as it washes over your lips, his heaving gasps for air a reflection of the way the sight of him has you breathless, and while your lips stay pressed together he pushes his hips forward to connect the two of you once more. Your arms find their way around his neck as he lifts a hand to cup your jaw, and with the first drive of his hips your body is thrust upward closer to the pillows.

Elbows dent the bed on either side of your waist, and Jimin's hands slip under you to cup the back of your shoulders and hold you in place. A gasp escapes you at the way his length delves deeper still as his thrusts hasten, and he pushes his thighs further apart as he solidifies his position over you, leaving your own unable to resist as you’re spread wider and your hips tilt upwards automatically.

This minute change in position has your core completely victim to Jimin’s will. And with every drop of his hips into yours, your body vibrates with electricity as the angle drives him right over your most sensitive spots and deep within where even the slightest twinges of pain are left to ignite the burn of impending doom even brighter. You can merely hang on and try to breath as ecstasy mounts.

A heavy clench of your walls has Jimin’s hips faltering for just a second before he resumes with a deep growl that he muffles into your neck, and you hold onto him desperately as he shifts a hand to clasp the back of your neck instead, shifting his weight to his elbow and using the now free hand to curl your thigh even higher on his hip.

The heat between the two of you is stifling, the slickness of sweat coating your bodies as the push and pull intensifies,  and as your lashes flutter and the feeling between your hips starts to mount, you pull him back by the hair at the nape of his neck and fix his heavy gaze with yours.

“J’min, please-ah!” He cries out as you feel him swell and throb at your centre, and his hips grind heavy against yours. The press of him catches your clit and you whimper in oversensitivity as you squeeze him tight and you feel your core clench repeatedly as the tsunami drowns you, his breath hitching and lashes fluttering as his hips stutter and then finally stop.

Warm wetness leaks out and down from where you’re connected, but you pay no mind to the way it pools on the sheets under you as you cup his cheeks and lose yourself in the kiss he pulls you into. You drink him in like nectar, returning his embrace fervently as his tongue teases at the tip of yours, and he leans his weight off to one side to twist his fingers through the hair behind your ear.

By the time he pulls away from you light has broken through the buildings and runs vertical lines through the blinds to decorate the walls and the side of his face, and you can’t help but to run fingers over them in reverence as he smiles gently down at you. A few more kisses find their way to your lips before Jimin manages to pull himself away, and regardless of the warmth of the sun's rays filling the room, you instantly feel cold without him.

But he doesn’t go far lifting himself just enough to wrap you in the sheet that’s found its way to the end of the mattress before lifting you smoothly into his arms and standing from the bed. You find yourself smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to press your face to his warm skin, breathing in the scent of him that resounds so strongly as home even before.

Gentle kisses rain over your exposed skin as he walks to the bathroom, and your feet barely touch the cool tiles before the patter of water fills the room and you're deafened to the world as Jimin pulls your lips to his with a hand under your chin.

And you know that regardless of the trials that no doubt will still litter your near future, having Jimin by your side once more makes any hardship that little bit easier, makes you that little bit stronger.

#jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin imagine #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagine #police jimin #detective jimin #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #jimin series #jimin multichap #the final chapter #its finally over!! #sob #guys idk what to do now lol #lemme know what you think!! #if u have any feedback id love to here it!

[aotxfan]

Stranger in Familiar Skin (Floch)

Summary: Female unnamed character realizes that the man she once loved, Floch, is gone to her forever.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and blood.

Her heart was stuttering in her chest as she stared down at the barrel of the gun. She could feel her pulse roaring in her ears as her hands shook in front of her. It seemed like time slowed down as the man before her pointed it directly at her head.

“Floch?”

His name left her lips in a quiet whisper. Desperately, she prayed that she was wrong. Surely this cold hearted man before her wasn’t the same boy she had grown up with.

She hoped he would react with confusion, hoped his name out of her mouth would snap him out of whatever trance he had fallen into, but it didn’t work. At her voice, the finger on the side of the gun simply moved to the trigger. He didn’t press down yet, but the threat was there all the same.

“I told you not to resist,” the man, Floch, responded. He sounded bored as he said it, voice lacking any emotion, and he nodded at the empty cell behind her.

Her eyes were trained directly at the barrel pointing at her forehead. Never in a million years had she imagined they’d be in this situation. Nothing about any of this made sense.

The man before her was someone she knew yet didn’t recognize. A loved one and a stranger all at once.

She and Floch had grown up together as kids and enlisted at the same time in the military. He was her childhood friend and later lover. She had once thought he was her other half, a piece of her soul.

They had known each other since they could toddle and had trusted each other more than they trusted themselves. She had thought she knew him like the back of her hand. He had never given her any indication of being someone dangerous.

“Please,” she forced herself to speak out, “Put it down.”

Her hands were shaking like leafs and her eyes were burning with unshed tears. However, it wasn’t fear that made her freeze. It was heartbreak.

She could feel her heart shattering inside her chest. All around her, her world was spiraling. She felt light headed and sick. It was a miracle she hadn’t passed out yet.

He called her name in a monotone voice. It sounded so wrong coming out of his mouth. She had heard him say it hundreds of times. He had shrieked it in laughter as a child, whispered it reverently as an teen, and used it as a form of a prayer as an adult. Now, however, it sounded hollow and meaningless. There was no affection behind the enunciation of each syllable nor any indication that this encounter pained him as much as her.

“I won’t ask again. Get back in your cell,” he nudged his head towards the empty prison behind her.

She had managed to escape somehow, yet she couldn’t exactly remember how. Ever since he had arrived at the restaurant where the Marley POWs worked, her mind had blanked. After Floch and the other Yeagerists had entered pointing their weapons, she had stopped processing things. So startled by her former lover pointing a gun at her, she hadn’t realized that she been imprisoned nor could she remember how she had gotten out.

“Floch,” she tried again. Her voice sounded like a whimper, but it had no effect on him. Where once his name from her lips would have sent him running to her, he now seemed like an unmovable statue.

Hange had warned her, she recalled. They had told her that Floch had escaped from his cell and joined the Yeagerists. She hadn’t wanted to believe it then, her mind couldn’t have made sense of it, but it was evident now that they had been telling the truth.

The Floch before her was not the one she remembered. Gone was the man she loved. Left in his wake was a terrorist who had killed and would kill again. His hands were stained red, yet his sins seemed not to weigh heavy on his shoulders. His eyes were cold and dark like the bitter sea that churned past the walls, and his hand on the gun was steady despite the fact that he was pointing it at the girl he had once swore to love forever.

“What happened to you?” She exhaled the question out and her first tear rolled down her cheek.

“Happened to me?” He cocked his head to the side and his lips rose in a mocking sneer, “Have you forgotten everything already?”

He advanced on her, and she took a step back. Her heart was beating against her chest like a hummingbird stuck in a cage. Desperately, she wanted some sign that her Floch was still in there. He had to be, she refused to believe that the man she had once loved was gone forever.

“Did you forget how I almost died? How a demon led me to a suicide charge where I was the lone survivor? How the one person in this world that could save humanity was killed in favor of some nobody little boy just because he had friends that staged a mutiny? Did you forget about the way the military you served betrayed humanity’s hope of winning against the Titans? The one who could beat Marley and restore the Eldian Empire to glory? Have you forgotten how I was arrested for telling the public what they had a right to know? Treated as a criminal when all I have ever wanted was to protect my people and serve my nation?”

Another step forward from him. Two more steps back from her.

“I know that-”

She cut herself off knowing not how to continue. She knew everything that had happened. Of course she did.

She had wept at the Battle of Shinganshina when she had imagined him dead, had held him as he woke up from nightmares screaming and covering his head from imaginary rocks, had comforted him as he seethed about Marley, and had visited him every day after Hange had ordered his arrest. She had been there every step of the way, yet nothing had prepared her for this. Somewhere along the way, he had lost himself. Burning like the morning star, he had fallen from grace.

The demon before her now was not the same boy she had once loved.

“Don’t you recognize me? Don’t you know me?” His tone seemed mocking.

“No,” she breathed out.

She really didn’t. She knew Floch, but this wasn’t her Floch.

Her Floch was a little boy introduced to her by her parents as a toddler. He was a little boy who had loved to play with her as a child and would race her down the hills in summer.

Her Floch was a cocky little brat with a dumb haircut who had decided to join the military and enticed her to follow. He was a little brat who liked to tease her and gave her smirky smiles that made her want to hit him.

Her Floch was the teenager that had returned from Shinganshina with a haunted look in his eye. He was a teen that had wept as she held him and had been woken up by his own screams from nightmares that made his throat raw.

Her Floch was the man that had swore to love her and marry her once the war was over. The man that had pledged himself to her and kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered in their cruel world.

This demon before her was not someone she recognized. He was a stranger in familiar skin, a traitor in her country’s uniform, and she could feel her heart crack painfully in her chest.

“I wanted you to join me, you know,” Floch broke the silence, “I told you to help me leak the information when the time came. Had you helped me then, you could have stood at my side rather than being locked up in a cell.”

She closed her eyes and more tears fell. He had asked her for help back when Eren had been arrested. She had refused because she felt it was the wrong thing to do. She had trusted Hange and the military and thought that their orders for secrecy were for a good reason.

Now she couldn’t help but wonder if she had been wrong. If she had gone with Floch, could she have stopped all of this from happening? Could she have led him back to the light and kept him from losing himself in the darkness?

She had a feeling the question would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Please,” she tried again, “Please come back to me. It’s not too late-”

A cold laugh broke through his throat. He lowered the gun just slightly and pressed a hand to his forehead as if the very thought made him want to double over. His eyes made her shiver.

“But it is too late, doll. Pretty soon Eldia will be restored and all of you, the military that betrayed Eren, will be known as traitors. The people will want you hung. Anyone who stood in the way of the Eldian Empire from rising will water its prosperous fields with their blood.”

“Is that what you want? Do you want me dead-?”

Her breath hitched. She felt lightheaded and had to lean against the cell door in order to keep herself from falling.

What was happening? The room seemed to be spinning.

This wasn’t the man she loved. The man she loved was kind if cocky.

He had been her childhood friend and had seemed an extension of her own soul. She had known his name before she had even known her own, had spent hours at his home playing with him, and had embraced him with sticky fingers from the candy they would share as a symbol of their friendship. He had been the cocky little teen that had stars in his eyes when he told her he had enlisted, had spun her around in excitement when she had joined the military to follow him, and had kissed her when she had chosen the Scouts just like him. He had also been the man that had promised to love her forever, the one that had held her through all those years, and the one that had teased her about marrying her once the war was over.

This man before her was none of those things. He was a cold hearted terrorist that had killed and would gladly kill again. Nothing of the old Floch was left in this new stranger.

“I don’t want you to die. It’s actually a shame to let someone so valuable die. You were a great soldier, no one could beat you in training, you would have made a great fighter for Eren. It’s a tragedy to let someone’s potential die with them.”

She swallowed painfully. She could feel her pulse roaring in her ears, and her hands shook from keeping them up for so long.

“For Eren,” she whispered, “You only want me to live for Eren. Nothing else matters then?”

“Can anything ever matter when the Eldian Empire is facing a dangerous enemy?” He shrugged.

She shook her head and desperately wished she could get through to him. There had to be some part of him that had survived. He couldn’t have lost himself completely, surely?

“Floch,” his name tasted bitter on her tongue, “Please. You know me, you grew up with me-”

You loved me.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the last part, but the phrase could be read in her heart. She bared her soul to him and waited for his response. There had to be some part of him that still cared. He couldn’t have been completely lost.

“Once upon a time,” he finally answered, “Once upon a time I did. Now, all I see is a traitor. You sided with the losing side, doll. I told you Eren was our future, but you just stood there as Hange ordered my arrest. I really, really thought you would-”

His breath hitched and a part of his mask cracked. She felt a flicker of hope rise in her, but it faded as fast as it came. He gathered his composure again before she had even had time to blink.

Soon, the gun was pressed directly to her forehead. Her breath caught in her throat.

“But you’ll pay for it. All of you will pay. When Eldia rises, it’ll rise on the sacrifice of those who doubted it. Your mountain of corpses will serve as a throne for Eren and Zeke to sit on. They will lead this island to greatness, and you all will regret betraying your blood.”

He moved away and shoved her roughly inside the cell. She landed on her back and stared up at him stunned.

He was gone completely. The man before her was a stranger on the opposite end of a battlefield. Whatever he had been before, the man she had once loved, was lost. In his wake stood a demon who would love to see her dead.

Her hands shook as she pressed them to her face. She could feel the last of her strength seep out. Despair churned inside her.

“I love you, Floch,” she meant it as she said it and hated herself for it, “Even now. Even though I can’t recognize you, my heart is still yours. Is it not the same for you? Were all those promises of marriage a lie?”

“Shut up.”

He hissed the words out as he slammed the cell door shut. Locking it, he leaned forward until his face was pressed between the bars. His eyes were cold like a tundra.

“You know what’s really funny? I didn’t do this for Eren, not at first. I did this all for you.”

At that, she froze. Staring aghast, she could only blink up at him. “What?”

He continued and leaned forward further until their faces were only inches away. The bars dug into his skin, but he seemed not to notice. His eyes were trained on hers.

“I did this for you. All I’ve ever done has been for you. I joined the military to fight the Titans so that you could live in a world without them. I joined the suicide charge so that you could escape once the battle was over. I even joined the Yeagerists so that Eldia could rise to power and take its place as a powerful empire. I wanted you to live in a country where you didn’t have to worry about foreign enemies across the sea. I wanted our kids to live in a world where their blood wouldn’t be a death sentence across the world-“

“Our kids?” She repeated it numbly and felt her eyes burn, “I never asked for any of this! All I ever wanted was you!”

He slammed his hands against the bar startling her. She jerked back in shock and hit her head against the cot. Stars burst across her vision and a piercing pain reverberated against her skull. When her hand went to the back of her head, she felt blood.

“Shut up! You were the one who betrayed me! Don’t you remember?!” He was all but frothing as he clenched his fingers against the bars. His knuckles were bleeding from where he had punched the metal, but he seemed not to care. “You just watched as Eren was taken in chains. You just watched as Hange ordered me arrested. I wanted you at my side! I wanted you to join me and fight for our home! In my head, you were always at my side! You stood next to me and we watched our Empire proudly flourish with our family! Yet you chose the wrong side! You sided with the military. You chose them over Eldia! You chose them over me-”

He let go of the bars and moved away. His rage boiled under his skin and simmered in his eyes, yet he shoved it aside. Returning to his mask of neutrality, he pressed a hand to his nose and pinched the bridge.

“You chose this,” he repeated to himself almost as if he wanted to believe it. Needed to believe it. “You chose the wrong side, doll. Now you pay the price. Eldia will rise and all of you traitors will regret ever standing in the way of your motherland.”

She scrambled to her feet as he turned around. Her head was bleeding and she pressed one of her palms against where it throbbed. Her other hand reached for him through the bars, but he was out of reach.

“Floch, please!” Her tears were running down her face now and her vision was doubled. The blow to her head made her feel dizzy and nauseous. “Please! Come back to me! Please! I love you!”

Numbly she repeated it. Her vision was growing dark, and she wondered if she had a concussion. She swayed in place but kept reaching for him.

If only he would turn around. Then he would see that she meant it. Then he would see the love that blazed in her eyes despite the hatred that burned in his heart-

But he didn’t. Instead, he gave her his back and swung the weapon over his shoulder. Snapping into the facade of a terrorists, he banged on the door to signal the Yeagerists outside to let him out.

Ignoring her pleas, he nudged his rifle as he walked away.

“Don’t escape again, doll. Next time, I will put a bullet in your brain.”

With that, the door clanged shut behind him.

Left alone, darkness creeping into the edges of her vision, she sank to the floor. Her eyes struggled to remain open and her head felt like it was splitting into halves.

She called his name softly and was met with silence. Heart obliterated in her chest, she sank to the ground and let darkness take over. The fight had left her just like him.

He was gone, she realized, the man she had once loved had been replaced with a stranger. The boy from all of those years together had been killed by the terrorist inhabiting his body. Whoever the demon in his skin was now, he was not someone she could ever hope to save.

The thought made her close her eyes and fall limply to the ground. She curled up into a ball and let the concussion win out. Her will to fight had been broken just like the remnants of her heart.

And, as her consciousness faded into the darkness, so did all her hope of ever bringing him back into the light.

#floch x reader #aot x reader #floch forster

[literaryfic]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, vincenzo and cha-young are exes, they were in a relationship before, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Exes, Getting Back Together, Not Canon Compliant, i wrote this before ep 20

Summary: Sipping on his third — or fourth, he’d stopped counting a while back  — whiskey of the night, Vincenzo fantasised about snapping the neck Cha-young’s fingers were delicately wrapped around. 

To Vincenzo, regret was like an old friend. He’d become accustomed to its familiar weight over the years, learnt its intricate shapes and colours. More than that, he’d learned to welcome the intimate ways in which regret accompanied his every step. 

The blood on his hands, his mother, her… Yes, it seemed regret was the recurring theme of his life. Alas, in spite of all the years he’d spent acquainted with it, he could not silence the wails of anguish of his heart. 

“Mmh.” A simple sound had sufficed to sink his soul to slumber.*

He’d always known this was a possibility. He’d thought about it endlessly, convincing himself that he wouldn’t care, that being in her life was enough. But Vincenzo was a greedy man, and he’d never desired anything more than he desired her.

Her. Cha-young. His Tesoro. 

Rarely did Vincenzo say or even think of her name when his mind wandered back to her. He treated it like a jewel, a precious gem meant to be tucked away in the corner of his soul, only to be let out under extraordinary circumstances. 

Her name on his lips would not be said in vain, for he was a pious man and her, a Goddess. He’d converted to her cult the moment she’d kissed him, her lips initiating him to her worship. 

And so, he prayed to her. When he’d reached the edge of the cliff, the troubled waters calling out to him, whispering in his ear that drowning would put out the fire that consumed his being, he prayed. 

He’d go to a small Catholic church in Milan, high ceilings and stained-glass windows glimmering in the evening sun, and he’d sit in the last row, his hands clapped together. He’d recite his prayers, confess his sins and plead. I love you. Forgive me. Wait for me.

The Goddess, however, was a capricious being, and it seemed she had not heard his pleas. Or maybe she had, but had deemed him unworthy. 

Vincenzo had wondered if she had found someone else, if she had been happy without him. Wasn’t human nature so contradictory? He had been sure that leaving her was the most selfless act of love he’d be capable of, yet that ‘Mmh’ had set his soul on fire. 

He had promised himself that if it were to happen — if Cha-young had forgotten about him, if leaving really had been the gift he’d first thought it was — , he would be content with just seeing her again. Even if all he’d get was a furtive look, that alone would be enough to satisfy the thirst he’d been dying of for the past five years. What a naïve thought. He knew the moment he’d seen her again, that night on the beach. He needed her. 

Now, watching her slow dance in someone else’s arms, Vincenzo thought about torture. He’d inflicted it on many of his enemies before and knew the myriad of ways in which the human body contorted itself when in agony. 

Vincenzo reaches for the gold lighter in his pocket, the reassuring clicking sound helping him organise his thoughts. 

He would start by pulling out his teeth one by one. Then, he’d move on to his fingers. It’d make a mess, but he wouldn’t die right away. Vincenzo would be able to enjoy the fun for quite a while, actually. Would the man scream until his vocal cords bled? Would he convulse, his body distorted by tremors, eyes rolling back?

Sadly, the only one getting tortured is him; the only cries of pain, his heart’s. 

Sipping on his third — or fourth, he’d stopped counting a while back  — whiskey of the night, Vincenzo fantasised about snapping the neck Cha-young’s fingers were delicately wrapped around. 

 Like moths to a flame, Vincenzo’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the pearly white of her thigh, revealed by the split of her long, form-fitting dress. She looked otherworldly tonight, her hips swaying to the slow beat of the love song playing in the background. Here she was, with her straight, shiny hair reflecting the dim lights of the ballroom, her red lips complimenting her flushed cheeks  — a fallen angel gracing them with her presence. 

The man holding her in his arms was in his late thirties, and while he was the same height as Cha-young with her heels on, he had broad shoulders and large hands. He looked down at his feet whenever he laughed, which made his glasses slide off his nose ever so slightly. After a while, he’d readjust them and run his hand through his short hair, the start of an endless loop.

He wondered what she saw in him, if it was something in his eyes or in his voice. Did she kiss his knuckles whenever he was working on some paperwork, lost in thoughts yet reluctant to let go of her hand? Did she kiss his neck and whispered ‘I'm here, it’s okay’ whenever he had a nightmare? Did her fingers trace ‘I love you’s’ on his shoulder blades while they were laying in bed? 

And if she did, was it because he looked at her like she was the most precious thing on this earth? Was it because he had secretly learned her favourite recipe, the one her mom used to make when she was sick? Was it because he held her tight when she cried, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words against her skin? 

He looks harmless, Vincenzo thinks. The alcohol is getting to him.

‘Is he a good person?’

‘Mmh. He is.’

He shakes his head, banishing memories of yesterday’s conversation from his mind. That’s a relief. Cha-young deserves to be with an ordinary man who lives a righteous life, away from all the murders and the evils of this world. Yet, his heart aches every time she smiles at him. 

Him, who is everything he’s not. Him, who’s making her laugh, and smile, and blush. 

The man leans in to whisper in her ear, and Vincenzo can’t take it anymore. He pays for his drinks and leaves, the sound of his lighter not enough to ground him anymore. He needs to get away, far from the sway of her hips and that man’s hand on her lower back. Before he knows it, he’s out of the hotel, on the beach. 

Stuck in his own personal hell, Vincenzo considers atoning for his sins. Surely, the fire blazing inside his body, boiling his blood and heating up his skin is worse than the Inferno he’d ineluctably be condemned to. 

Without thinking, he takes off his shoes, his trousers and his shirt, and dives into the ocean. He needed to put out the fire before he got burned alive. It’s a warm evening but the dark waters feel ice-cold on his heated skin. He swims until the cacophony of the waves crashing against the shore lulls him. He swims until he’s about to drown, limbs too heavy to float. How he manages to get back on the beach, he doesn’t know. He collapses in the sand, exhausted. The distant moon looks down on him, her inquisitive eyes strangely offensive. Tonight, the heavenly body is mocking him. Look at this fool, she laughed. Did you really think she’d wait for you?

Vincenzo wants to scream at her, or maybe at himself, but instead he cries. He doesn’t have the energy to fight it, or to feel ashamed. He is guilty of leaving her and he has no one else to blame. Regret might be an old friend, but guilt is his greatest foe. 

He forces himself to get up, knowing he’d get buried under the weight of his conscience if he stayed any longer. Putting back on his trousers only, Vincenzo carries his shoes and his top until he sees the hotel lights. Were they still dancing together? 

He stops before going inside, lighting a cigarette. He’d taken it up again after going back to Italy, another one of the nasty habits he indulged in. He stood near a huge palm tree, just at the entrance of the main building, probably why he didn’t see him. Cha-young’s… someone was standing there, smoking on the other side of the palm tree. Vincenzo holds his breath, not sure how to react. The man is on the phone, and although it isn’t his business, he can’t help but overhear his conversation. 

“No, no… I told you, nothing’s going on with her...Yes, I promise. I told you, she paid for all her employees, it’s a group thing. Mmh. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon. Me too.”

Forget torture, Vincenzo is killing this man with his bare hands tonight. 

*‘Sink Not Yet My Soul To Slumber’ is a Christian Hymn SINK not yet, my soul, to slumber, Wake, my heart, go forth and tell, All the mercies without number That this by-gone day befell: Tell how God hath kept afar, All things that against me war, Hath upheld me and defended, And His grace my soul befriended.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #vincenzo fic #chayenzo fic #my fic

[spiderling-space]

I’d like a Halloween request please! Did you know many people believe on Halloween the borders between worlds are at their weakest? Can you please do a ficlet of a Yandere Malleus taking advantage of the border between our worlds being weak on Halloween to drag the MC back to Twisted Wonderland many years after they managed to get back to their homeworld?

I thought it was the door between living and dead but I’ll go with multiverse. Ngl putting my works to AO3 made me want to write longer ficlets but the story will decide the length itself.

Italics indicate thoughts

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

Malleus Draconia

Warning: Yandere tendencies, mentions of PTSD and night terror, panic attack

It had been 7 years since (Y/N) managed to escape hell or as it was officially called Twisted Wonderland. It took lots of therapy sessions and support from their loved ones for (Y/N) to feel normal again. It took over a year for them to have a good night’s sleep. Waking up screaming from nightmares was their nightly habit in year 1. It took them 2 years to finally go out just by themselves and 3 years to date someone again.

(Y/N) finally moved on, breaking free of their chains that were called Twisted Wonderland. They had a job, moved out of their parents’ house, spent Friday nights out with their friends, get on Tinder, go on dates and have one night stands. Life was good again…

Today was Halloween night, the night they could wear the weirdest outfit and no one would bat an eye. (Y/N) and their friends went to the party downtown and got drunk. (Y/N) called Uber to get back to their apartment after saying goodbyes to their friends. They locked the door after getting in their home and threw their shoes to the side. After chunking 2 glasses of water, they went to their bedroom.

(Y/N) just wanted to sleep, dreading to remove makeup and wear pjs since it was too effort so they threw themselves to their bed, closing their eyes. Sleep was taking over but there was this crackling sound that was preventing them from sweat dreams. On top of that, a light was coming over to their face. Is it morning already? I just need 5 more hours. (Y/N) put their pillow over their head to ignore the light and the sound and it was working since they stopped. Finally, on to the dreamlands! Their happiness was cut short as they felt something touch their arm, stroking up and down along their bicep. Well dear bug, I'm just gonna ignore you. No sir, I’ll finally sleep. They were so certain that it was just a bug until a hand rested on their cheek. Oh shit! It’s a burglar or killer or a rapist! They couldn’t just lay there and risk getting hurt. He opened their eyes and grabbed the extra pillow on their bed, swinging it to the other person in the room as they got up and put distance between them. But there was something wrong. The pillow didn’t land on the invader at all, in fact, their arm was frozen in mid-air and the invader wasn’t holding them either.

Alarms bells started ringing in their ears, recalling the last time something like this happened. No No No! It’s impossible! Crowley said it was a one-time opportunity! (Y/N) started taking short breaths as their heartbeat quickened. They finally looked at the invader, taking in the figure for the first time. The room was dark but the lights from outside illuminating enough to see the invader’s outline. The figure was tall, as tall as him. They were dreading to look up to the figure’s head, afraid to see horn shape and making them confirm their suspicion but they had to do it.

Their palms started to sweat as finally looked up to the figure’s head. Horns… Their arm that was holding the pillow started to tremble as their mouth felt dry. (Y/N) just wanted to run but their body didn’t move.

“Hello, Child of Man,” His voice caused shivers down their spine. “It has been a while.” Malleus moved to stand right in front of (Y/N). “I missed you.” He placed his hands on each side of their face, connecting their foreheads.

His touch was burning their skin, they just wanted to get away from him. “Don’t touch me!” (Y/N) yelled, feeling helpless as they couldn’t move to push him away. They were feeling nauseous, maybe from being near him or maybe it was the alcohol or they triggered one another. “How did you get here?!”

He ignored their question. “All these years passed yet you still throw tantrums.” He was talking as if they were a toddler. “Don’t worry anymore, you can finally return home.”

“This is my home! Not Twisted Wonderland, certainly not your kingdom!” (Y/N) felt faint but they were trying their best to stay conscious. They were hoping this was just a nightmare, their night terror making a comeback but deep down they knew it was the reality.

“You are not well, Child of Man. Are you perhaps as excited as me to be together again?” (Y/N) didn’t know if he was deliberately ignoring what they were saying or was he so fucked up in the head to not realize that they hated him?

“FUCK YOU!”

Malleus’ expression turned sour and the aura he gave became darker. “That is not how one should speak to their betrothed.” He was tut-tutting them as if they were a kid who did something they shouldn’t have.

“WE ARE NOT ENGAGED! I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” (Y/N) tried to move their arms once again to push Malleus away but it was a futile attempt.

What (Y/N) had said must have angered him since he furrowed his eyebrows and his hold on their face tightened. “I hoped you would stop acting like a baby after all these years but it seems you’ve never changed. Worry not, Child of Man, since you will learn how to behave once we go back to Valley of Thorns.” He let them go both physically and magically. Their arm dropped to their side. Malleus was rummaging their stuff. “You will not be needing any of these since I’ll provide you anything you need, my love.”

He is distracted, if I can make it to the kitchen, I can get a knife and at least defend myself. When his back was turned, (Y/N) bolted out of the room, “(Y/N), stop.” But something prevented them, making them stop in mid-motion. “Come here.” Involunteeringly, (Y/N)’s body turned to Malleus and walked towards him. Their mind was screaming to get back but their body was moving on its own as if it was on autopilot. (Y/N) stood in front of Malleus. His voice was soft, almost tender as he was stroking their face. “That is enough of your games. We are going home.”

“No!” (Y/N) tried to take control of their body once again which ended with failure.

Malleus turned to look at the body mirror in their bedroom. He extended and twisted his hand, muttering some words as the mirror started glowing. “(Y/N),” he reached out to hold their hand. “Walk with me through the window.”

(Y/N) was helpless as their body did what it was told. Soon after, they landed in Malleus’ castle in Valley of Thorns. All those memories crashed down upon them. All the things that were done to them there flashed through their eyes. They started to panic again and it only got worse as Malleus tried to calm them. When he understood his words won’t work on (Y/N), he used his magic to calm them down. “Finally you have returned home, my love.” Malleus planted a kiss on their lips. “This day shall be celebrated every year as this night brought us back together. I believe you humans call it Halloween. We shall rename it in your honour and celebrate it in the Valley of Thorns.”

(Y/N) knew there was no way to get back to their world now. They would be stuck with Malleus forever or until they died.

All I ever wanted was to have my own life and be with whomever I want. Why can’t I have that?

————————

The reason why saying the name worked

#malleus draconia #diasomnia #prefect #gender neutral reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere twst #twisted wonderland yandere #yandere #twst malleus #yandere twisted wonderland #ficlet