Excited to finally fuck with cargo pants because it means I can conveniently carry a copy of Dan Abnett's Double Eagle in my pocket for on the go.

Dive Into You: Part 2. (M)

Preview: “You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. You should be thanking me nono.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck

Warning: daddy issues, sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption, bible quotes

Smut Warning: oral(F receiving), slight sensory deprivation, fingering, all in church.

Intro—>

Part 1–>

“I told the new family in town that you’d be showing their daughter around boys. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Pastor Lee slaps a hand over Jeno’s shoulder with a firm grip. “No funny business.”

“You got it, father. You know, like because you’re a pastor.” Haechan snorts, pouring hot steaming coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. Make sure your brother acts right. People around town are already talking enough about my atrocious parenting skills. Word travels fast in these small towns you know.” Pastor Lee adjusts his tie in the mirror. Stepping out of the front door with not even a wave goodbye. Jeno left rubbing at his shoulder with irritation.

“What time do you want to head out?” He questions, eyes burning into Haechans back.

“Oh, I can’t do that ‘show the new townies’ around thing today. Got a brunch date in the next town over with someones mom.” Haechan turns, leaned back along the kitchen counter blowing steam from his coffee.

“What?? She’s your girlfriend now. Aren’t you supposed to hang out with her tonight?” Jeno’s eyes widen befuddled. More in disbelief his brother would be two timing you, familiar with his antics.

“Your point?” Haechan scoffs, checking messages through his phone. Petty smirk on his lips sending you a ‘miss you’ text.

“You’re a dog. You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. Should be thanking me nono.”

“Dick..” Jeno mutters, grabbing his bag to head out. Not wanting to spend another minute around his brother.

“Wait a minute..” Haechan grabs a hold on Jeno’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. “Take good care of my girl today yea?” Jeno’s eyes squint as his brother sneaks a $20 bill into his side jacket pocket.

“Maybe get her a milk shake or something. Whatever it is you kids drink. We’re not really going on a date tonight if you know what I mean.” Haechans eyes shift around mischievously. Knowing damn well Jeno knows. Knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Jeno grips at Haechans collar, huffing against his face. Anger seething through fingertips aching to bring his brother physical pain. Jaw tightening, resisting the deep urge inside building for years everyday.

“Gonna give me a black eye nono? What will father think when he finds out his bad seed is also abusive?” Lips curling with a slick grin. Haechan the expert on how to push Jeno’s buttons. Worked on himself well to get exactly what he wants.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Jeno clenches the fabric between his fist, arms shaking with rage. “You’re the perfect one, I’m the fuck up. You’re the one dad brags about, I’m the one he pretends doesn’t exist.”

“You think your daddy issues would get your little church girl turned on? Should I tell her how you cry yourself to sleep wishing you were me?” Haechan snorts, loosening from of Jeno’s grip. Hands smoothing out his freshly ironed shirt.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true nono..” Haechan pulls on a jacket. Fingers twirling around keys. “You know how much I love my car” with a cocky wink matching a shit eating grin Haechan heads out. Leaving Jeno festering in his anger. Fists slamming against the counter. Back tense with underlying hatred, hatred for himself. Tired of how easily Haechan manages to provoke him.

——————————————————————————

Jeno’s nervous, pissed off, feeling anxious. Pacing back and forth in front of your house. He didn’t have much of a choice with the looming threat of getting shipped back off to Jesus camp hovering his mind. The idea to ditch this whole ordeal passing his thoughts more than once. It’s not that he liked you, but it’s also not necessarily that he didn’t like you. Convincing himself he just hasn’t gotten any for too long now. Dick probably desperate for anything at this point. Nothing related to how cute you looked with your lips all swollen after kissing him. Jacking off at home that night reliving the events long forgotten.

Forget about stroking himself off in the shower the next morning again. Or the other five more times since. No he didn’t like you, not really..

“Aren’t you one of Pastor Lee’s sons??” And older woman carrying bags of groceries approaches. Lipstick covering her two front teeth, over sized dress hanging from her body.

“Oh uh.. yes I am. I’m supposed to.. show your.. daughter? Around today..” Jeno stutters out, mentally slapping himself.

“Oh..” the woman adjusts a bag in her hold, throat clearing. “What about that lovely brother of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Haechan..” Jeno’s eyes shift, looking away. How did his brother manage to convince everyone he was such an angel. A modern day fallen angel, roaming earth in disguise.

“Ah that’s it..” she makes a sound of disapproval, bag dropping on the porch. “A polite young boy would have offered assistance.” Voice lowly whispering as she unlocks the front door. Jeno’s eyes darting between the groceries and woman, cursing himself yet again for coming off exactly how everyone says.

“I’ll call her down.” She steps inside. Loud shouting vocals calling out your name. The sound of foot steps against stairs following. Your figure appearing, dressed up to impress. Jeno’s throat itching, swallowing, adjusting his collar.

“That’s not your bike- is it?!” Your mothers shrieking voice questions. Eyes bulging out, taking in the sleek black motorcycle off the sidewalk.

“I’m here!” Your smile falls, only spotting one brother waiting for you outside. Not the one you’d expect even. You subtly give a look around, searching for someone else maybe hiding in surprise. Jeno unfortunately does not fail to notice.

“That is my bike Ma’m.. it’s safe. I promise.” He holds up two helmets. Craving to crawl into a hole under your moms scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not so sure about this..” she mumbles. Eyes glaring into Jeno, trying to put the fear of God...fear of a strict crazy mother, in him.

“It’ll be fine mom! He has a helmet! I’ve been on a motorcycle with dad before!” You lean up, pecking your mothers cheek. Summer dress twirling up with air as you run forward. Jeno catching a glimpse of your underwear. Shifting a helmet over his groin momentarily.

“I thought Haechan was coming too?” You asks, taking the helmet held out for you. Typically being his brothers helmet, little did you know.

“He’s busy.. errands out of town or something.” Jeno mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He’s being weird, but then again you didn’t know him well enough to confirm he wasn’t always this way.

“Oh.. well I guess I’ll see him later anyway.” You frown, tugging at the light fabric of your dress. What a waste. “You ride a motorcycle?”

“Yea.. I don’t have a car so.. you’ve been on one before you said?” Jeno’s brows furrow. Eyes trained on your feet, teeth digging into his lower lip. You had to wear cute strappy sandals with a summer dress. That just made sense, to show off your cute freshly painted toes..Jeno’s brain feels like its turning in his skull. Lips begging for mercy to let out a scream.

“I actually haven’t. Just said that to make my mom shut up.” You lean in close. Lips grazing his earlobe as you whisper. Words muffled, Jeno blinking slowly. Perfume wafting around his head, as if this could get any worse.

“Uh..” Jeno steps away abruptly. “Put that on!” His voice awkwardly shouts to you, chin jerking toward the helmet in your hands. Head shaking, pulling on his own. Straddling around the bike seat, engine coming to life.

“Am I supposed to hold on to you?” You stand to Jeno’s side. Admiring the shining black bike, fitting for his character. At least physically.

“I..” Jeno’s breath catches under his helmet shield. Only now realizing you’ll be riding with him around today. Legs parted on him.. arms squeezing his abdomen.

“Jeno??..” you pull on your helmet with confusion. He wasn’t much for words it seemed. So opposite of his brother.

“Uh.. yea.. just hold on to me..” he sighs to himself. Sounding more displeased than intended. Uncomfortable awkwardness travels through you watching his shoulders slump. With reluctance, you lift your leg. Straddling Jeno’s back, bad day to wear a short dress..

“This is kind of..” your lips purse together, center a little too close to Jeno’s body. More than close, right on him. Cotton airy smell coming off his black jean jacket. Scent fresh and clean, hair lingering of lightly scented shampoo. His broad shoulders covering majority of your view.

“You should.. hold on tight.” Jeno licks his cracking lips. Foot kicking up the bikes lock. With another look toward your mom motioning the sign of the cross. You lean your body forward, chest pressed up on Jeno’s wide back. Arms circling around his small waist.

Jeno’s own thoughts rolling in like rapid fire. Throat squeezing in, heat between your bodies pressed together moving between his legs. Trying to focus on anything, anything but your breasts pressing into him. Anything besides your smooth thighs around him. The memory of kissing you too vividly choosing to repeat itself.

“God be with you!” Your mothers voice screams out. Bike engine too loud as Jeno rides off. Your dress blowing behind you, smile covering your face. Chin on his shoulder, admiring the view of your new home.

Could only be an even more perfect moment if it was Haechan you were wrapped around..

——————————————————————————

“That’s it? A diner? That’s the tour of the town?” You twirl around the cherry sat atop melting whipped cream. Chocolate shake looking unblended and less than appetizing.

“There really isn’t much to do here..” Jeno mumbles, chin tucked into his chest. Basket of half eaten fries more interesting than you apparently.

“I could have told you that..” you murmur in response. Sitting back in the booth with boredom. Jeno does the same, brows furrowing in thought. A minute or five of silence passing. He grunts lowly, pulling his phone out.

“Look at you two!” Mark jogs over sporting a huge smile stretched across his cheeks. Red and white striped apron covering what looks like an all white uniform.

“You work here?!” You sit up, eyeing the uniform. Almost too fitting, a too old altar boy working part time at a cheap fifties diner.

“Well of course, phone bills don’t pay themselves! Timothy 6:10 For the love of money, is the root of all kinds of evil!” Mark proclaims, finger waggling about like a mad man. Your lips pulling back over your teeth in...displeasure.

“Right..”

“Fucking shit” Jeno groans, kicking at a foot under the table. Tsking as thumbs slam down at his phone screen.

“Ah Jeno! Proverbs 21:23! Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble!” Mark places hands on his hips. Lips pursed together with disappointment.

“Yea..sorry Jesus. Whatever.” Jeno mumbles again, eyes not moving from his phone.

“Gamers right” Mark shakes his head your way. Eyes lighting up, taking your own phone out.

“What do you play??” you scoot in closer to Jeno. Closing the space between the two of you in the booth. His shoulders stiffen, curling in hunched over the table.

“Kartrider..” Jeno barely whispers. Catching enough of it, familiar with the game.

“I play too! Oh! I bet I have a better rank than you!” Laughing unlocking your phone, swiping the game open. “Look at my character, she’s so cute!”

“There’s no way you’re better than me....I’m always top ranking in this county..” Jeno’s eyes widen. Forgetting about his current race, watching you hold up your phone with laughter.

“Come on, let’s race. I’m gonna kick your ass!” You lean in closer, reading out Jeno’s ID as you enter it in. “Add me!”

“Language!” Mark sighs, head shaking with both of you. “God’s children have truly fallen. After everything the lord has done for us.”

“Come on Jeno! Play me! I’ll go easy on you” nudging at his side with a wink. Your smile grows, finally something you can do together. Jeno dragging you around downtown past rusty antique shops. The only thing that caught your interest a quant little family owned bookstore. Learning fast he wasn’t much for conversation. Face appearing pained and uninterested with every word from you.

“Don’t feel like playing anymore..” Jeno shuts his phone, screen turning black.

“What?! Aw come on. Can’t stand the thought of a girl beating you?” Jeno leans back, eyes taking in your face slowly. All he cared about was winning, competing in stupid games just to achieve a high ranking. You’d win of course, he’d never let you lose.

“Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

——————————————————————————-

“Thanks for showing me around, the one street you took me to.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. Hopping off the back of Jeno’s bike. He removes his own helmet, hair flopping around messily. “Was fun I guess.”

“Yea well” Jeno holds out his hand for the helmet you borrowed. You hold it under your arm, brow quirking in confusion. Your hand slowly lifting, placing in his. Jeno’s eyes widen, staring at your hands held together. Too many feelings rushing at him all at once.

“Helmet!” Jeno shouts abruptly, hand flying away from yours like you’re too disgusting to touch.

“Geeze, fine. Sorry...” you place the helmet on the back end of Jeno’s bike. Turning away, without even a goodbye. He grabs your elbow, your foot stopping mid-air.

“You..” head turning, staring down where he holds you.

“Yes?” You implore him to continue. Jeno’s hand dropping from you when you fully turn to face him again.

“You.. you really like my brother..?” Jeno’s eyes fall to the ground. Thick dark eyelashes shadowing across his cheeks.

“Yea of course. Is that what this is about Jeno? I really do like him, I would never use someone.” You smile, bouncing back on your heels. Jeno’s lips suck in with frustration.

“Wish I could say the same about him.” Jeno mumbles, turning his engine back on.

“What was that?” Voice raising, trying to speak above the loud roar from the motorcycle. Jeno flicks down his helmet shield, speeding off. Cloud of dust surrounding you. Smacking at the air coughing out, bike disappearing behind dusts.

“Fucking jerk.”

—————————————————————————-

“Haechan! Where are we going? The church?!” Your shoes lift up dust. Arm in his hold pulling you toward the small old building.

“Where else would we go baby? Can’t go to my place, the holy spirit’s home.” Haechan laughs, pulling a lanyard from his back pocket. “Besides, this is my dads church you know right? It’s like my property too, we’re safe here under God’s watchful eye.”

“Isn’t this.. I don’t know. Sacrilegious?!” You anxiously follow him inside. Haechans easy smile comforting you, arms wrapping around your waist. He steps back down the center aisle. Pews displayed at your sides, Haechan leading you one in front. He pulls you to the center of the pew, sitting with hands on your hips.

“This feels..” you start, chest rising and falling faster as guilt passes through you.

“Wrong? God didn’t make us this way..” his hand smooths down your bare thigh. Passing the fresh new dress just for your date tonight. Fingers skirting between your thighs, one playing at a side covering your mound. “..for us to not touch and explore..”

“It’s just..” your hands grip at the front of the pew behind you. Where you’d normally kneel to pray..

“Just?..” Haechans eyes gaze up at you. Pure sin and danger hidden in the face of an angel. Tongue sliding up your other thigh. “You’re so sweet.”

You sigh in defeat, legs quivering, upper body doing the work to hold you up. His head dipping under your dress, nose pressing into your slit. Cotton from your panties shoving between you. Soft moans sounding from underneath, Haechans tongue licking at your underwear. Enough to properly soak them up, allowing drool to freely fall from his mouth. You gnaw at your lip, gathering up your dress fabric in one hand. Admiring the way the beautiful boy between your legs eats you up.

Haechan lets out a dreamy sigh. Long fingers stroking up and down your thighs. Teeth biting your at core with cloth between. Your stomach folds in, curling closer to where he sits below you. Fingers wrapping around the sides of your panties, tongue lapping at your inner thighs.

“Body of a virgin can heal more sins than body of christ you know..” underwear at your knees. Haechan leans back in, lips wrapping around your clit. Tongue swirling around, suctioning between. Your other hand lifting to your mouth, biting down on your thumb. Muffled moans and whines echoing around the church walls.

Haechans eyes stay on your face, tongue rolling your clit around. Hands squeezing your inner thighs, pulling back, clapping down slaps. Your hips jolting forward with suppressed cries. Everything about him was absolutely depraved. Looks deceiving from the boy your mother had always warned you about.

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds baby.” Haechan pulls away. Lips shining, coated in your wetness. Glares from the colored glass reflecting off his skin. Red tinted eyes sparkling up at you. Haechan reaches for your wrist, yanking your hand out from your mouth. His lips part open, tongue swirling around your entrance. Sucking up the wetness gathering around.

“Oh God!” You shout out, neck loosely dropping back. Tears on the brink of escaping the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it baby. You pray to me now.” Haechan groans, mouth closing over your entire mound. Eyes rolling back into his head, swiping up and down your core. Hands finding his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Haechans tongue thrusts into your tight entrance, muscle working extra hard to enter.

“Oh my God!” Body shaking, ass digging into the pew. Hips twitching forward, grinding against Haechans face. Chin covered in your wetness, tongue wiggling inside you. Fingers finding way to your clit, pinching and rolling the bud. “Oh my God!!”

Haechan groans inside you, scalp in pain from your pulling. Cock hardening in his jeans, taste of innocence in his mouth nearly orgasmic. You taste too fucking good, nothing like that used up whore from earlier..

“I-I c-can’t!” Haechans fingers work at your clit. Rapidly sweeping back and forth. Tongue sliding out, jaw hung open. Eyes return to your face, smile breaking out over his cheeks.

“You can.” He pants, tongue hung out lazily lapping at your hole. Clit pinched between two fingers, massaging every little nerve. “Cum on my tongue.”

Your head drops forward, tear slipping free. Haechans raspy tone saying those words driving you past your limit. Ass lifted off the pew, core convulsing. Haechans tongue placed against your fluttering entrance. Catching all of your release. You weakly fall forward again, forehead resting on top of his messed up hair.

“So good.” Haechan moans words out, licking clean the wetness seeping from you. Neck lifting, hands cupping your cheeks. “Taste.”

Tongue pushing between your parted lips, trying to catch your breath. Haechan laps at your tongue, realization hitting you in seconds what he’s making you do. Tasting yourself between your lips. His tongue covering every corner inside your mouth. Haechans hands return to your hips, pulling you off the front of the pew to straddle his lap.

“You want it?” His hand digs into the back of your hair. Jean clad dick shoving between your thighs at your heated core. Weakly nodding, eyes half open lazily pecking pouty lips. Haechan lays back down flat across the pew. Warm hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “Come here.”

Your head nods, under his command. Mind controlled by whatever he’s saying, telling you ‘I want it- no matter what it is.’ If it’s from Haechan- give it to me, now. You lay down on his chest, kisses continuing. Hands squeezing around your ass, pulling up your dress. Hands flying down hard with mean slaps. Fingers gliding down finding way between your legs again. Skimming up and down your slit from the back. Soft moans passing between your swollen lips.

Body tensing, sounds of the large entrance doors opening up with a slam. Haechans eyes open up staring into yours, brows lifted. His lips purse out with a silent ‘shhh’, earning a rapid head shake from you. Familiar smirk pulling at his lips, free hand clamping over your mouth. Your eyes widen, lips pressing into the palm of Haechans hand. Fingertips circling around your needy entrance. Panic rushing through you as loud foot steps approach closer and closer.

Your forehead shoved up against Haechans. Mouth closed off, silent whimpers falling out behind his hand. Finger sliding inside you, his lit up eyes watching your expressive eyes react. The fear and curiosity alone could make him cum.

“Are you kidding me!” A flash light shines over your faces. Mark standing at the end of the pew in disgust. Your head lifts quickly, ripping Haechans hand off your mouth. Cheeks heating up absolutely mortified. Moving fast, adjusting your dress to cover up. Haechan stays laid down, eyes fluttering shut with irritation.

“Fucking cock block.” He whispers to himself, sitting up. Tent in his jeans extremely evident.

“I knew you stole my keys again Haechan!” Mark clicks the flash light on and off angrily. Both of you covering your eyes. “and you! Mary of Magdala! You should be ashamed! Think of your mother!”

“Dude, chill.” Haechan stands, hands held up trying to block the bright light from his eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Weren’t doing anything?!? If people found out what you were doing, this one would be getting pelted with stones!” Mark passes the light over your face. You cringe, hands coming up to hide yourself.

“Mark, quick, what’s the verse about fucking that really cute voice of an angel choir boy?” Haechan throws him a knowing look, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. Marks eyes widen, snatching his keys away.

“Don’t steal my keys again! Next time I will be telling your father!” Mark scurries away, door slamming behind him.

“Oh my God he’s gonna tell your dad!” You panic, pulling your dress down. Attempting to wipe away any mascara that could be on your cheeks.

“Nah he’d never, can’t risk everyone finding out about Renjun. Don’t worry baby, I got something on everyone.” Haechan pulls you in, gently pecking your lips. Your senses relax, mind torn with stress still. Who the fuck were you right now..

“You know..” Haechan turns you around, hand scooping your chin. “I’m gonna fuck you. Right there.” He holds your jaw up. Eyes on landing on the altar.

“Jesus will know all your sins after I’m done with you.”

Part 3–>

Taglist:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect​ @skrtbeepbeep​  @lanadreamie​ @nctstrawberrycow​  @meonlightuniverxse​ @sunshinedhyuck​ @haechanswhore​ @brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr​ @kpopmultiifandomm​ @d1nne​ @neobanguniverse​ @pewpewpwe00​ @abitofafan​ @haechansworld​ @born5sos​ @bockhyun​ @prettychannie​ @xuyiyangstan​@alexameliamg​ @ahsshilee​ @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @tarolovebot @loveyukhei @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @winwiniee @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @n0hyuck @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

Lost and Found:

Happy birthday Alex! @catadorass I hope this is everything you wanted, or at least sort of what you wanted lol. I wrote this from Ty's pov because it's really importance to showcase his side of the story. 

Nothing about us without us Cassie. 

"Hey can we talk" Ty heard Kit ask from behind him. 

It was late. Very late, most likely past 12 by this point and they had all just finished doing another late night round of frustrating and pointless research. They being, Ty, Kit, Dru, Jaime, Janessa a wayward Vampire who traveled all over with her band, but was originally from LA, Thais a Brazilian Shadowhunter who was dating Janessa, and Ash, the son of Sebastian Morgenstern and The Seelie Queen who had betrayed Janus, who had tasked Ash with infiltrating the Los Angeles institute and killing Kit. However, Ash and Kit had ended up bonding immensely. This had caused Ash to essentially switch sides and work towards protecting Kit from Janus trying to kill him. There was also The Seelie Queen trying to abduct him in order to obtain control of his powers, and generally anyone else who wanted to get their hands on the first heir.

At first Ty was a little worried that Ash was in love with Kit, but the pair seemed to be very platonic, just heavily invested in one another like Kit and Janessa. And of course Ty had no business being jealous either way. He and Kit had both been engaged in various- well relationships wasn't the right word, but various flings of sorts over the past few months, but he still couldn't help but think of Kit as his.

Which didn't make any sense because Kit had left.

What made even less sense was that Ty still loved him.

Ty braced himself and then turned to face Kit. It was clear how exhausted he was from the events of the past few weeks. They were up against The Seelie Queen, Janus, The Cohort, also several supernatural disturbances that didn't make a lot of sense. Anush, his friend at the scholomance was researching the problem there. It was quite possible that it had to do with Livvy's presence.

Ty really didn't want to think about that.

He also really missed Alyssa, a new friend of his that he had met while she was studying at the scholomance. But she had left to rejoin her werewolf pack in New York. They had bonded over both being autistic, and in moments where Ty was anxious or overwhelmed he wished he could summon her to his side.

Moments like this one.

Livvy was hovering nearby, giving him a look over Kit's shoulder. Ty ignored it.

Ty nodded at Kit without fully meeting his eyes. "Fine. We can talk. Liv can you leave us alone for a moment?" He asked. Livvy scowled slightly, but did as she was told. Looking back at Kit he couldn't help but still be slightly comforted by his presence. And even though Kit was visibly worn out and stressed, he was still the most beautiful thing Ty had ever seen.

Ty did his best to remain as cold as possible. "What do you want Kit?" He asked harshly. Kit flinched slightly in response, and Ty was caught in between feeling victorious and feeling like he had just been stabbed. Kit shook his head slightly.

"Come on Ty aren't you sick of this? Don't you miss me? The way things used to be?" Kit inquired angrily. "I'm sorry I left. But I forgave you. Isn't it time you forgave me?"

Ty honestly had no words. He just continued to glare at Kit. Did Kit honestly not have a single idea what Ty was feeling?

But wasn't it obvious? How hurt he was? How utterly broken he was?

Ty took a long deep breath to keep himself calm. His fingers were aggressively flicking at his sides. Kit took his silence as a sign to keep talking.

"Look. I talked to Dru."

Seriously. Now we're involving my sister in this? As if Livvy wasn't already bad enough?

"She sort of helped me realize some things, you know" Kit continued. "She pointed out to me that I should ask you how you feel, instead of just assuming that I already know." Kit was nervously shifting back and forth on the spot.

"Wow" Ty muttered sarcastically under his breath. He looked Kit dead in the eye and spoke. "What a revolutionary concept. That I should be allowed to speak for myself for once, and not have you, Drusilla or anyone else do it for me."

Kit sighed, his eyes softening. It was in that moment that Ty was close to forgiving him.

He desperately wanted to be able to run to Kit and throw his arms around him. To hold him, and kiss him and tell him how much Ty had missed him and that he was so brave and beautiful and sweet, and that Ty belonged to him.

But Ty couldn't cave now. Not until he made Kit understand.

"I'm sorry ok?" Kit pleaded. "I get why you're pissed but-"

Ty couldn't help it. He laughed. Even though nothing about this situation was in any way humorous. "No Kit." He shook his head. "You really don't."

Kit looked a little angry at that.  Fine. Ty thought.  If you hurt me then I'll just hurt you back.

"Fine." Kit breathed, his voice sounding surprisingly gentle.  "Then tell me."

Ty was instantly brought back to the roof of the London institute. Tell me. Tell me what you need. He willed himself not to cry.

Ty took a deep breath, glaring at Kit. "Alright. Here's the thing. I am angry. I'm so angry that I can hardly breathe and no one notices." Ty snapped.

Kit opened his mouth to interject but Ty shook his head, eyes blazing with fury and tears. "No!" He shouted. "You said your piece already. Now let me say mine."

Kit stayed silent.

"I am quite literally always dealing with everything coming at me all at once, and Kit I know this is a very horrible situation for you, but I am just as stressed as you are, because despite what you might believe, I don't want you to fucking die!" Ty screamed.

Kit looked absolutely horrified. Ty was pretty sure he had never heard him swear before.

"I'm dealing with new people, new dangers, and I might lose Livvy again. I have all of this stress, all of this sensory information bombarding me 24/7. We barely sleep! We're all constantly together when we're awake! There's no time for me to stim, no time to breathe because we are all working to rescue you from your own fate!" He shouted. "And I'll do it too! Because of course I will! "It doesn't matter if I'm angry, or stressed, or tired, or scared! It doesn't matter that you broke my heart when you left me because for some unknown reason, you thought I could handle it!" Ty cried.

Kit was shaking his head. But he didn't look angry, just devastated. "Ty" he whispered, but Ty cut him off.

"Everybody always seems to think I'm either unbreakable or far too fragile and I need to be coddled and I'm sick of it. "I'm furious with you for promising that you wouldn't leave, and then telling me that you wished you had never met me when I thought I was never going to get Livvy back" Ty sobbed.

Kit gasped. Ty noticed that his eyes were filled with tears. Kit shook his head aggressively. "Sweetheart no" he breathed. "I didn't mean that. I swear."

Ty heard himself make an unrecognizable sound. His fingers were now aggressively fluttering at his sides. He clenched them into fists to stop them from moving. Kit began to step forward then stopped himself.

"Sweetheart" Ty whispered under his breath in awe. Alyssa had once told him that what he was doing now was called sub-vocalizing.  He could hear her voice in his head. When our brains get stuck on a word or a phrase because it was so shocking or we can't stop thinking about it, or it brought out a huge emotional reaction in us, then we mouth it or we say it out loud over and over again.

"Sweetheart" he mouthed, warmth overflowing his body.

"I'm- I'm sorry" Kit stammered. "I didn't mean to upset you." Ty recovered himself quickly, shaking his head.

"No it's fine" he said firmly. "You just surprised me." Kit looked down at the ground. He looked embarrassed, defeated. He looked exactly the way he looked on the beach three years ago.

No. No don't go there. He doesn't really love you.

Ty continued on. "And at least I got Livvy back in a sense, but you still left me and I didn't survive that." There were fresh tears running down his face. Exhaustion was definitely catching up with him.  Ty partly just wanted to let it go and go to sleep, but he needed Kit to understand.

"You cannot under any circumstances ever tell an autistic person that you're never leaving and then go back on your word Kit!" Ty exclaimed. "This is why we all have trust issues! Because we're naive, so we let our guards down because we just want someone to choose us. Not out of pity but out of genuine love. And it wasn't like this had never happened to me before but you were supposed to be different." Ty said defeated. He looked over at Kit and waited for Kit's eyes to meet his.

Ty had always hated eye contact. Mostly because it physically hurt and made him feel really awkward, but also because it felt too open. Too vunrable. As though someone could see into his soul and know all of his secrets just by looking.

Well he had never felt that way with Kit. Or maybe he just had never cared about letting Kit really see him. All of him. And they didn't have any secrets from each other. At least not anymore. Kit looked back at him and Ty could see it all. Hurt, exhaustion, longing, and love.

Love?  Ty shook his head, physically willing himself not to be sucked in.

But there was no point.

"And that's why I fell in love with you" Ty admitted.

Kit's eyes widened almost comically. He inhaled sharply staring at Ty with an expression Ty was having trouble placing. Up until tonight, Ty hadn't actually looked at Kit. He had been avoiding it for some time now. Most likely because he was afraid of what he might see. Would he recognize the person that Kit had become?

But all Ty could see now was what he had actually been avoiding from Kit all those years ago. It was that look of complete awe and adoration. Like Ty had all of the answers to the secrets of the universe.

And Ty really really really didn't.

It was painful, because as much as he was angry with Kit, he also didn't want to hurt him or let him down again.

Ty fought to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "The worst part is, in the end I know i'll probably forgive you eventually. I will do what I always do. Take the high road. Be the bigger person and let it go because I have to. Because I'm never allowed to be angry Kit, and I'm not allowed to hold grudges because everyone is always convinced that I'm overreacting." Ty said bitterly.

 "So it doesn't matter that you hurt me. It doesn't matter how many nights I spent crying myself to sleep at the scholomance or how many bad decisions I made during some futile attempt to feel something other then pain, and it doesn't matter that you might hurt me again" Ty lamented. He was fully aware that he was crying, but that didn't matter anymore.

Kit was staring at him dumbfounded like Ty was speaking another language, but the pain in his eyes was clear.

Ty shrugged slightly. "I'll still love you Kit, no matter what, because that's just how I am."

Kit took a deep breath, wiping away at his tears. "Ty- I'm so sorry. I-             I didn't know" he stammered. Kit slowly began to approach Ty, carefully as if he were a wounded animal. "I'm sorry I didn't think about it like that. When I told you I loved you and you didn't say anything back, I just assumed you didn't want me, that you didn't care." He was standing directly in front of Ty now, and Ty couldn't help but stare into his eyes.

Suddenly, Ty was overwhelmed with the powerful urge to touch him. To reach out and comfort him. For Ty it was almost as instinctive as breathing. Instead he just shook his head.

"That's not true, it never was" Ty said adamently. "I was torn apart. Everything with Livvy was just too overwhelming and I just couldn't lose her Kit!" He protested forcefully. "But I always cared about you. I honestly just thought you knew."

Kit paused for a moment, then slowly reached for Ty's hand. Ty didn't fight him, only watched as Kit traced the lines on his hand. After a pause, Kit looked back up at him. " You're right. I shouldn't have assumed. I should have just asked you how you felt" Kit admitted. "I'm so sorry Ty." His voice broke. "I'm so sorry for leaving, for making you feel like I didn't care." Kit lifted his other hand, the one that wasn't holding onto Ty, and placed his palm softly on the side of Ty's cheek. He shook his head, almost in disbelief.

Ty fought the urge to close his eyes and lean into it.

Kit continued. "Honestly the truth is Ty, I fucking adore you. I love you so much." Ty heard himself inhale sharply. Kit was so close now, only centameters apart. It wouldn't take much just to lean over and kiss him.

Wait.

No. Not yet.

We're not done.

Ty scoffed slightly. "Yeah you say that Kit, but at the end of the day those are just words. Pretty, empty words." Ty almost regreted it as soon as he saw the look on Kit's face. Up close he could see the heartbreak in his eyes. Ty could also see the dark circles under his eyes which were a little red. He could see the dried tears smeared across Kit's cheeks.

Ty couldn't help but look at the broken boy in front of him and hate himself a little for the damage he had clearly caused.

Look at what you did to him, a cruel voice inside him whispered.

This is what you do. You hurt people, break their hearts and make them regret ever knowing you. This is all that you are. Selfish, cold and cruel.

Ty shook it off. It wasn't true. He loved Kit, just as he loved his family and his friends. It didn't matter that there were some people who refused to see that, refused to see that just because he felt differently, didn't mean that he was unable to feel. Some days, the sheer strength of what he felt for Kit threatened to break him in half it was so powerful. It was almost too much to bare. So Ty squashed it down and pushed it to the side, molded it so that it was more manageable and less scary.

Kit let out a soft breath of air and closed his eyes, he let go off Ty and dropped his head forward so that it was resting against Ty's shoulder. Kit was slightly shorter then Ty which Ty had always found amusing. Kit, less so, but secretly one of the things Ty had always loved about their height difference was that he could tuck Kit into the nape of his neck. Ty loved the feeling of Kit's curls against his skin.

"This isn't empty Ty" he murmured, nuzzling the side of Ty's neck. "This is everything."

 Kit's voice was so quiet that Ty almost didn't hear him.

Kit pulled back slightly and tilted his head up to look at Ty. They were so close that their noses were slightly touching. Kit was staring up at him through half-lidded eyes. His hands were trailing up Ty's arms, pulling slightly at the fabric of his sleeves. His lips were parted slightly, staring up at Ty with so much love in his eyes.

"Beautiful" Ty whispered under his breath.

 Kit looked utterly beautiful, and before Kit had the chance to answer him Ty was pressing his mouth to Kit's in a deep passionate kiss. The moment their lips touched, Ty almost let out a sigh of relief, sliding his hands up to Kit's face to cup his cheeks. Kit made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Ty could feel Kit's hands all over him, rubbing across his back and then finally settling on Ty's waist. Ty pulled back slightly, noticing that Kit was straining himself to reach Ty's height, pulling himself up on his tip toes.

Ty couldn't help but laugh. "You really are quite short aren't you?" He teased. Kit looked like he was about to cry so Ty kissed him again, attempting to pour all of the love he had for Kit into the kiss. He slowly moved his hands down Kit's body, then bent down slightly to lift him up. Kit wrapped his legs around Ty's waist and threw his arms around Ty's shoulders kissing him sensually. Ty clung to Kit even tighter, afraid of what would happen if they let each other go.

 He remembered way back when he and Kit had first been getting to know each other and Kit had told him that he was pretty sure Ty was autistic. He had given him a bunch of articles and official clinical descriptions and terms that made Ty feel distant and afraid. But then he had recommended Ty check out posts on social media sites made by autistic people and Ty had been completely swept into it. There was an entire tag on tumblr dedicated to autism, and Ty had spent hours scrolling through the posts feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible by a sense of community and belonging.

 He had come across this one blog dedicated purely to autistic love and lust and how it manifests differently. Ty remembered reading one quote in particular that had made him feel hot and shivery all over, and painfully aware of Kit's presence next to him. It had stayed with him all this time.

I want to ink myself underneath your skin.

Ty  gently put him down for a moment and leaned his forehead against Kit's. They were both breathing heavily.

"I missed you" Ty whispered. Kit smiled at him beautifully.

"I missed you too sweetheart."

Edit: This is old but I'm tagging @ti-bae-rius in this because I honestly just want your opinion lol.

I don't really have anything specific in mind, I'm actually kinda lost as to what to look for jkjsksjk I know I identify with some traits, like sensory issues and difficulty communicating (I do have a diagnosis of social phobia, though I've been thinking maybe autism would better explain other aspects of my life beyond social interaction). I've been reading some articles regarding late discovering of autism and mostly looking for experiences, so I can compare to my own. I feel like I should be looking for something else but I don't really know what? lmao I don't think that was really helpful, anything you can share would be good to me

This is a really long post so I'm going to put it under a read more to not clog up other people's feeds but I think the main areas to cover are:

- verbal communication issues

was your vocabulary/reading ever under/over developed as a child? Having a really advanced vocabulary is just as much a sign of autism as having delayed development in this area. Also, having a very hard to pin down accent, or taking on others' accents Really easily is common amongst autistic people. Do you ever have trouble speaking? I experience selective mutism and when I'm overwhelmed/stressed/upset I often find it hard to speak out loud and have to communicate through messages/notes, though when I'm not mute I'm very eloquent and have always had a vocabulary that was advanced, other kids found it hard to talk to me when I was younger bc they couldn't understand me, but equally comprehension/vocabulary can be delayed/compromised and you might find it hard to understand others because you struggle with that sort of thing yourself. Do you have issues with your tone of voice ever? I find that I can't read my own tone of voice or my volume, some things will come out really bitchy-sounding or angry-sounding and I won't be able to tell, or I might be shouting and not know it because it all sounds the same in my head really.

- sensory issues

do you have issues with certain types of sound? volume? quantity? volume doesn't bother me, but too many different sources of noise will send me into a meltdown so fast. Do you struggle with certain smells, bright lights, tastes, textures of food or of clothing, certain sensations, for example I get really stressed out by having wet skin/hair, and I can't stand the sound/feeling of something rubbing over carpet. I also find some tastes to be overwhelming. Under-sensitivity or processing issues can also be a symptom. Do you ever struggle to process reading/listening to something? I have absolutely awful retention for auditory information, I can't hold more than around 4-5 words in my mind at any one time, and I can't follow auditory instructions at all if there's more than one step, it needs to be written down. I also often struggle to read things because I don't process the words and they just look like meaningless letters on a page to me. I also really struggle to process my own thoughts and order them, I'm able to talk out loud but there are times where I can't write my thoughts without speaking them first because ordering my thoughts while they're still inside my head is very difficult. I also have an under-sensitive sense of smell and taste at times. I can't even smell when meat has gone bad and everyone else I know says it really stinks, and like I can't tell the difference between chicken gravy and onion gravy, for example, because they taste almost identical to me. And senses aren't just the basic five, either. Do you have a particularly high OR low pain threshold? interoception is the perception of bodily functions. Do you have trouble identifying/noticing when you're hungry/thirsty or when you need to go to the toilet e.g. you didn't need to go pee a minute ago but now you're Suddenly absolutely bursting to go because you didn't notice it earlier at all. Proprioception is your perception of your movements, balance and of where your limbs are in relation to your surroundings. Do you bump into things or fall over seemingly nothing a lot? Have you ever been told/noticed you move "strangely"? Do you ever walk sort of on your tiptoes or toes-first rather than heels-first?

- social issues

do you have trouble reading body language? facial expressions? figurative language? tone of voice? not every autistic person will experience all of the above, I know people who can't read body language but can read tone of voice, or can't read figurative language but can read facial expressions, etc. etc. Personally I struggle with tone of voice a lot, I can't tell when people are being serious or not, or whether they're upset or not, tone of voice doesn't really tell me anything about how they're feeling of what they mean. Figurative language varies, I understand metaphors and I often understand sarcasm, although I won't get it if it's too deadpan, and I sometimes miss hyperbole and think people are being serious. I also can't tell whether people are teasing me or genuinely being mean the vast majority of the time. I tend to rely on speech patterns and word choice a lot to understand people, personally. I pick up on what sorts of words they use in what moods and use that largely to inform my interpretations of their current mood based on the words they're choosing. Do you ever struggle understanding what is/isn't socially appropriate? I overshare a lot bc I don't rlly understand what is "too much information" and what isn't, and I also don't understand really how to treat people differently based on their "social role", like I treat someone like a friend regardless of whether they're a stranger, a classmate, a friend, a family member, a colleague, a boss, a teacher, etc.

- need for routine/dislike of sudden/significant change

this isn't always as clear as like needing an entire day to be a routine, it can be little things. I'll give some examples: I have to brush my teeth in a specific way - I count the number of passes of the brush over each section of my teeth, I have to eat a sandwich in a specific order of bites, many food places I will order the same thing every/nearly every time and I will eat that order in the same way, I wash my body/hair in a certain way/order in the shower every time, sometimes I get weirdly obsessed with symmetry and I have to walk in a certain way and if I step "wrong" I have to hop around on one leg until I feel "balanced" again, I have to do my daily tasks on genshin impact in a certain order, etc. etc. I could probably think of more if I tried. I will often get distressed/overwhelmed/upset if any of these "routines" are disrupted somehow. My original method of eating a sandwich applied to when they're cut across into rectangles, so I used to hate eating triangle sandwiches because I couldn't eat them "correctly" until I figured out a similar way to eat triangle sandwiches, and now I Have to eat them in that way because it's "correct" and I'll feel uncomfortable otherwise. Note that this isn't like OCD because it's not anxiety-based, it's based on the fact that it feels like the "correct" way to do it, and that any other way is simply "wrong" and you don't like doing it "wrong". The need for routine and dislike of change might also manifest in needing to plan things ahead days in advance, you also might be like me and be very capable of impulsively doing things like going out if You decide to do it, but if someone Else suggests it, then you need the preparation time. - stimming/special interests

stimming can be honestly anything. I tap my foot, I sing, I have a whole folder names "stim games" on my phone, I type, I eat, I chew gum, I flap my arms, I scratch fabrics, I smell blankets/clothing. Stimming just means self-stimulation and is absolutely any repeated action that you find soothing/cathartic in any way. Under here I'm also going to mention samefoods: foods that you feel comfortable eating even when you don't feel comfortable eating anything else. Like if too much flavour/smell/texture feels overwhelming, most autistic people will have food/s that aren't at all stressful to eat and they can default to at those times. Mine is a specific brand of chicken nuggets, I'll often fall back on those when eating anything else feels overwhelming but I need to eat Something, and I can usually handle those when I can't handle other things.

as for special interests, they are anything that you're kind of obsessed with. You can have multiple, they can change over your life, but your interest tends to go much deeper than that of a neurotypical person's and you feel a need to know everything about it and struggle to hold conversations about other topics because it kind of just takes over your brain. when I was younger some of my special interests were final fantasy, anime, hello kitty, languages/linguistics has always been a special interest of mine, kpop is definitely one, astrology is also for sure one. I fall in and out of being obsessed enough with genshin to call it a special interest. I had a friend in highschool whose special interest was the periodic table, for a while they were obsessed with the 8 times table, and then it became dinosaurs. My little brother is autistic and his special interest has always been video games, he's really interested in retro games, he loves Minecraft and Mario too, when he was younger it was ben 10 for a while, there was also a period where all he wanted to do as a kid was rewatch the cars movies. Media likes to portray special interests as being academic but they can truly be absolutely anything. A desire to know absolutely everything about trains or flowers or kpop is just as much a special interest as neurology or maths or physics or smth like that.

Another thing I've just thought of to be noted, is hygiene:

some autistic people might appear to have borderline OCD tendencies where they can't handle dirt/mess and need everything to be tidy/clean all the time. This is definitely one of the stereotypes. But struggling with hygiene is just as much a symptom of autism. If you struggle to remember to shower/wash hands/brush teeth/do laundry/etc. that could well be an autism symptom. I found out I'm sensitive to mint and especially to toothpaste, it makes my mouth feel like it's burning and like I'll actually cry if it touches my tongue bc it hurts that much lmao. I discovered a toothpaste that's unflavoured and doesn't foam up and now I can brush my teeth without pain but for a long time I struggled with consistently brushing teeth bc of that. I also struggle with showering bc of being stressed out by wet hair/skin. Sometimes it's also a memory thing, and I forget to do these things. I also absolutely suck at keeping my room clean, idk why I just Really Can't lmaoooooo

I'm certain there are things I haven't covered, these are mostly pulling from my own experiences of autism from myself and those around me. All of this might apply to you, it might not, but I hope it makes sense and has given you a good starting point of things to examine within yourself and questions to ask yourself <3 I wish you well bub and please always feel free to ask more questions and/or talk to me more about your experiences <3

Hey any chance you could to 50 with 13 please? Totally get it if you can't ♥️

                                                  sensory prompts.                                                    inbox is open.                         50. the empty space that can’t be breached between you in bed.

so - i made this incredibly angsty af and i don’t know why. heavy trigger warnings apply for this prompt. (mentions of abuse, domestic) also this is a seriously old prompt request, i apologise for taking so long.

xX

You don’t know whether or not you were mad or just disappointed. You had told the Doctor not to do anything stupid or foolish or just down right insane but that is exactly what had happened. Maybe you were just cynical, maybe you had lived through enough shit that you know when something bad was going to happen, like a gut feeling that everyone seems to dismiss but when the bad thing happens everyone tells you that you were right.

You had suffered enough over the last four years, so when the Doctor dropped into your life, you thought that this was the perfect opportunity to get away from them. And yet - life seemed to always catch up with you and beat you in the ass. You love so deeply and want to make sure that everything is alright and yet in the end, it’s always you that ends up with the black eye or the broken rib or the dislocated shoulder.

You had never shown your bruises or your scars to the others or the Doctor. It wasn’t their battle to fight, besides you were on board a flying police box, what did it matter. But it did matter, especially when Yaz had to help you pick out an outfit for one of Marylin Monroe’s extravagant birthday parties, the scar that ran from underneath your shoulder blade to the top of your breast was the most noticeable in the dress you wore.

“[y/n], what happened?” she hadn’t expected the worst, of course she wouldn’t but when you tried to lie your way through, it became more apparent when Yaz caught a glimpse at your stomach and then your legs. “Jesus, [y/n] who did this to you?” She was a cop, of course she would be concerned.

You sniffed and shrugged your shoulders. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your eyes stared at your reflection in the mirror, before they focused on Yaz’s figure as she stood from the bed - stepping closer towards you. Flinching ever so slightly when her hand touched the scar, you swallowed and held the dress tighter to your naked body. “Just … don’t say anything to the Doctor.” You had mumbled and Yaz looked at you like you had grown another head. “Yasmin please! She doesn’t need to know.”

The bed seemed cold, too cold in fact. You were lying next to each other but you felt miles apart. The Doctor rarely sleeps and when she does, it’s like it’s for an hour and nothing more, you worried about her sometimes. So this, whatever this was had you incredibly worried. You wouldn’t think that the punch would have caused much damage - you’d seen the Time Lord lift things that you couldn’t even move, she was a lot stronger than she looks and incredibly tougher than the average bear.

Your face scrunched up, what a stupid saying. Sniffing, you buried your head deeper into your pillow. Or maybe it was the Doctor’s pillow - you couldn’t tell anymore, you had slept in the same bed for so long now, that everything seemed to be one big mess.

She wasn’t impressed. Of course she hadn’t been and you had been mad and bitter and pissed at Yaz for dobbing on you like you were kids. Your eyes glared at the copper from across the console - you sat on the floor - arms folded over your chest, of course she hadn’t kept her mouth shut - not when you returned to the TARDIS after a lay over with a split lip and you had been limping again. They hadn’t been appreciative when you showed up to home after being gone for almost an entire day. You had cursed the Doctor’s rather shitty flying skills.

“I’m sorry.” The tension in the air seemed to shatter. Her voice was deep and you could tell that she had been stewing in her own head for a while, you wondered if she’d ever spoke to her past selves? Wondered if that’s how regeneration works, you’re a new person, but the old yous are still in there somewhere.

“’S fine.” You mumbled not even bothering to turn around. The Doctor had confronted your lover merely three hours before, it had gotten to a head and the Doctor had followed you out of the TARDIS when the shouting had ensued. She was pissed, you could see it in her eyes and then way her shoulders stayed stiff and the warmth that usually invited everyone in had disappeared.

“Doctor, no it’s okay.” You had muttered trying to hold her back, hands pressed against her shoulders.

“Who the fuck is this?” They had almost shouted, you could smell the alcohol from here and the Doctor’s eyes narrowed. You hadn’t seen her this mad before, you had to walk backwards as the Time Lord kept on advancing. “You been screwing this chick?”

“Not now!” You growled out between your clenched teeth, head to turned to look at the mess they were in. Before you quickly turned back to face the Doctor. “Please, Doc - you’re going to make it worse.” The Time Lord had looked down at you, and her eyes softened ever so slightly … but they had to open their mouth again. Comment on whether or not you were good in bed or not and that’s when all hell broke loose. 

You had no idea that the Doctor could lose her temper like that. Maybe it was a part of her that she kept in check, because as soon as you called her name, and after a single punch to the face had caused them to fall to the ground, she softened and her whole body shook…

The coolness between your bodies was beginning to annoy you now, you wanted to roll over and just bury your face into her chest - to hug her to you and never let her go. The only good thing that had happened to you in the last half a decade. But you didn’t.

“[y/n]” Your name sounded so soft when the Doctor spoke. Sounded like she loved the way it felt on her lips, so much more than the poison it evoked when they yelled it at you. This time you did look at her, turning your whole body around, so that you were lying on your stomach.

“I had it covered.” was what left your lips though you suddenly swallowed and the bruise on your ribs seemed heavy. That was a lie and the Doctor knew it. “I did.” Pressure started to build at the back of your eyes. “I really … did.” Resting up on your elbows now, you pushed your face deeper into the pillow. Furrowing your brows, you felt your whole body shake. “I love them.” it was mumbled but you knew the Doctor had very good hearing. “I love them so much and I have no idea why they hurt me like this.” You had never spoken to another person about this. No other human had heard you come clean. 

But then again … the Doctor wasn’t human now was she?

“It’s never easy.” The Doctor’s voice caused you to jump slightly. She was closer, a hand rested lightly against your back. You knew that she had issues with touching others as well - must be something very important if she allowed her fingers to dig into your shirt. The palm of her hand moved and now dug into your back - massaging between your shoulder blades. “You love the person who they used to be. Who they were before they turned on you, before any of this happened.” Of course the Doctor knew more than she would say. “But that doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting to leave.”

A sob wrecked through your body, eyes scrunching closed. Delicate fingers, pushed some of your hair behind your ear. The space between the two of you didn’t feel so … cold anymore, but you still didn’t want to lean on her - you didn’t have the strength. So pulling your head away from the pillow you looked at the Doctor, behind a blurry vision, her eyes - that are usually filled with amusement and childlike wonder - held their true look. Of someone who is over 2000 years old and has seen every horror in the universe.

“I … I can’t…” You pulled your body away, touching just reminded you of them too much, you suddenly realised the last time they touched you was when they hurt you. Curling into a ball, you buried yourself into the bed again and it wasn’t long until the Doctor pulled her hand from your back. You didn’t hear her get up from the bed, but you did feel her press a kiss against your forehead.

“Sleep, [y/n]” The Doctor mumbled. “You’re safe here. I promise.”“I know,” came your sleepy reply. Maybe the space between you couldn’t be breached tonight, but … maybe you just needed time to heal.

Hello i love y’all and i wrote more of ridiculous knight and ridiculous lizzermonster dancing because i am hopeless, hopeless, absolutely hopeless

Even With Missteps (Chapter 2)

[Ch 1] [ao3] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, (other characters mentioned)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades

Summary:  There is a masquerade ball in the Citadel tonight. Every knight and citizen has turned out, and all of them bear disguises of monstrosity. What better time could there be, for a monster who needs to find a way inside?

Chapter Summary:  Is he still a thief, if he returns what he has stolen?

Chapter Notes: I straight fucking lied when i said this was complete with the first chapter. I just never thought I would actually finish this chapter too. Fam i am so far gone on this mess. They're sending me to space. This is. Too Tense. Happy Lizard Kissin' Tuesday!!! ;3 Also chapter specific warning for a brief moment of (what i would call canon-typical) mild suicidal ideation on Arum's part. Just one parenthetical, really, but please take care of yourself if that's an issue for you! <3

~

Arum hears the rustle behind him, the distinct sound of an arrow being nocked, and he scowls beneath the warm copper of his mask in self-deprecation. Too distracted, tonight. Altogether too distracted-

“Do not move, villain,” says a clear, sharp, familiar voice, and Arum grits his teeth. To keep from barking out a laugh, for the most part. “A knight of the Crown shall not suffer an intruder in her majesty’s chambers, not even on a night of such inverted morals as this.”

Arum does not move. He drops his hands from the closet in front of him, the silk catching on his claws, but he does not turn towards the human he suspects is standing at his back when he murmurs, “How did you know I was here?”

“A keen-eyed attendee happened to catch sight of your ascent,” the voice says, wry and insulted. “And the manner of your climb would suggest that either you have an inhuman proclivity for scaling walls, or that you are, in fact, inhuman altogether. A monster, intruding upon our Citadel. So, which is it, fiend? Am I placing you under arrest, or does this arrow fly now?”

“I was under the impression we were all monsters tonight,” Arum says, tilting his head, turning just enough to look over his shoulder. “And I thought that you were enjoying playing so, little basilisk.”

Sir Damien’s aim does not waver, but his eyes widen, his expression cracking into flushed surprise. “Ah- Arum?”

“Honeysuckle,” Arum greets, turning more fully, and Damien stares down the shaft of his arrow at him like a stunned rabbit. The little knight is still in his costume, still staring out from between sharp little fangs, but he appears to have summoned a quiver to go along with that bow of his.

Arum could bolt. It would not be difficult. He is quick enough that he knows he could dodge that arrow before it pierces him. He could almost certainly leap to the window, or pounce upon the knight himself, or rush past him to the door.

He stands still, though. He stares at Sir Damien, and certainly it is curiosity and nothing more that holds him in place. Will the little knight fire? Will he try to fight? Arum’s palm remembers the shape of Damien’s hip and he clenches his jaw tight and tilts his head, watching, waiting to see if the little basilisk intends to strike.

"What-" Damien pauses, cheeks dark, bow steady. "What are you doing up here?"

"Oh," Arum says. "Intruding, and taking what does not belong to me. Obviously."

Damien laughs, bright and surprised, and Arum swallows down the urge to step closer. "A thief," he chimes, and without taking his eyes off of Arum he shakes his head. "And so brazen about it, are you?"

"I do not see why you should be surprised, honeysuckle," Arum says with a shrug. "I stole from you already, did I not?"

Damien blinks. "You- what?" The knight looks, for a moment, half tempted to check his pockets.

"I stole a dance. A rather daring theft, if I do say so myself, considering the obvious deadliness of my mark."

Damien laughs again, and Arum tries not to feel it as a victory. The knight seems entirely determined not to drop his aim, after all, and it isn't as if the laughter on its own is of any value, regardless of the strange way it makes Arum's hands flex.

"Are you armed, then, thief?" Damien asks, and then it is Arum's turn to laugh.

"Quite," he says. "Though I do not see the point of drawing knives upon an archer."

“So…” Damien tilts his head, his eyes narrowing, more curiosity than suspicion. “You intend to come into custody, then?”

“Not at all, honeysuckle.”

“I do not wish to fire upon you, friend dragon, but you seem keen on making that quite difficult for me,” Damien says, and his brow is furrowed though his voice is still bright.

“I am aware,” Arum says.

Damien stares at him, the moment stretching out as Arum watches the human, as the tightened bow waits for ease in one of two ways.

“Remove your mask,” Damien says, at length, and Arum can’t help the laugh, then.

“Are you certain, honeysuckle?” Arum asks, and he does not bother to conceal the way his voice goes halfway to purr. “Is that truly what you desire? You seemed quite concerned, when we danced, about not betraying… how did you put it… the spirit of the event. Has that changed?”

“We are not dancing any longer,” Damien says, quite seriously. “You have revealed yourself as a thief. That is what has changed.”

“Oh, is that all that concerns you?” Arum says, and then he does take a step closer, finally. Damien raises the bow another inch, but Arum does not stop. He is curious. Terribly curious. How far must he push, for this knight to do his duty? How many steps must Arum take, for the knight to fire?

(Certainly he can avoid the arrow, but even if he is mistaken it will be an acceptable outcome. If he is killed here, the Senate will not have the patience to wait for his replacement to grow enough to be useful to them. They will have no hold left upon the Keep, it will be useless to them without a familiar, an interpreter. His death will be unfortunate but it will still serve his purpose, it will still protect his home in however an unpleasant way, though for some strange reason he cannot seem to make himself believe that Damien actually will- that the knight will-)

“Stop,” Damien says, his authoritative tone cracking uncertainly in the middle. “Do not take another step or I shall-”

“We could dance again, if that is what you would prefer,” Arum says, ignoring his words and creeping another step closer. “I can still hear the music from below - quite fascinating acoustics, this tower seems to have - and there is enough room here to take another turn together.”

“I will not fall for your tactics of distraction,” Damien says, but he still has not fired, and Arum is still moving, still closing the distance. “I will do my duty-”

“If you do intend do shoot me, honeysuckle, you will need to do so before I am too close to shoot,” Arum says, mildly, and the tip of the arrow is mere inches from his chest. “Or, you may dance with me again, and perhaps when we are done I will give you what you request. I will show you my face, and then you may decide if you intend to follow through and loose your arrow at last.”

The arrowhead scrapes the purple of his cape, tickles his scales through the fabric, and Damien is looking up at him with such uncertainty that Arum can nearly hear the shouting in his mind. He can certainly hear the shouting of his heart, hammering away in that chest, and the sweet sharpness of his breath.

“I stole a dance from you downstairs, honeysuckle,” Arum says, quite softly, and then he lifts a hand. “Would you give one to me freely, now?”

“I-” Damien stares at him, his eyes so clear and bright beneath his mask. “I… I cannot hear the music, from here,” he murmurs, and Arum could laugh- the limited sensory ability of humans strikes again, it seems.

“I can hear it well enough for both of us,” he says, feeling reckless and absurd, his hand still in the air, and he knows he has won when Sir Damien breathes a laugh and, at last, he lowers his bow.

Such a naive little fool, Arum thinks without heat as Damien drops his arrow back into the quiver, as he puts his weapon away, as he eyes Arum curiously. Such a ridiculous trick to fall for.

Any moment now, Arum will set upon the knight. Damien’s warm hand takes his own, and he slots his body close to Arum’s again. Any moment. At any breath, Arum will knock this knight to the ground. Will set on him with his knives, will claw him open. Will escape. Damien raises an eyebrow, and looks up at Arum for the length of a few long, quiet breaths.

“You will have to lead, of course,” he reminds, softly. “The music is in your ears, Arum, not mine.”

This is the moment, of course. There is a task before Arum, and this knight is in the way. He and his pretty voice and his careful steps and his clever face. He is in the way. Arum is supposed to remove him, now. To perform the task that he must.

Arum begins to dance.

It is a slower turn than the one they took together down below. The band is playing gentler, now, easing the crowd into the middle of the evening. Damien follows deftly although he cannot hear the beat, his eyes a little guarded, and Arum feels strangely helpless before that gaze. He begins to hum along with the melody as he moves, and then the corner of Damien’s mouth curls up just slightly. That feels helpless as well.

“I know this tune,” Damien murmurs, swaying in Arum’s arms. He begins to hum as well, then, harmonizing with Arum as they move, the ease of the notes making something in Arum’s stomach twist oddly.

Arum almost doesn’t notice their movements gentling, doesn’t realize that the steps they are taking together are softening until the both of them are barely moving at more than a sway, and Arum does not think he could grow accustomed to Damien’s unwavering heat pressed close against him if they danced like this for the fullness of a year. Something about it makes him breathless, and he can hear the way his little basilisk’s heart is thudding, faster than the beat of the song.

“Arum,” Damien murmurs, and Arum realizes that they have stopped moving, now, as Damien peers up at him from beneath his costume fangs. “I…” he pauses again, licks his lips, and then quirks them up into a hesitant smile. “I did not know dragons had such lovely voices.”

Arum breathes a laugh before he can stop himself, his hands on Damien’s sides squeezing lightly. “We don’t, little flatterer. You, however- I knew you had music in your voice downstairs. Even in speaking it rings like bells. A fine trait for a poet to possess, I should think.”

“Oh.” Damien laughs as well, eyes bright and playful. “Oh, you cannot call me the flatterer when you speak so, Arum.”

“I suppose that is fair enough,” Arum says. Damien cannot see his answering smile behind the mask, and so he does not bother to try to hide it. “Then I will content myself to thank you for the compliment.”

Damien’s hands are easy and soft on Arum’s shoulders, and the knight stares up at him for a long moment before he clears his throat.

“Has- has the song ended, then?”

Arum blinks. “What?”

“You’ve stopped dancing.”

“O-oh.” Arum bites back a whirring rattle of embarrassment, and makes himself give a stilted laugh instead, pretending not to be strangely overwhelmed by the amused look the poet is giving him as he stammers. “No, it is still- I- I was simply- distracted-”

“Sir Damien?”

The booming voice is muffled by wood and stone, but it is not distant enough for comfort and it drops down Arum’s throat like a chunk of ice. Damien looks similarly stunned as they both jolt, surprise making Arum loosen his snug grip around Damien’s midsection.

“Sir Damien, have you found the intruder yet? There was nothing in the eastern tower-”

“Angelo,” Damien mutters, his expression a little wild, and then he looks up at Arum with fear and guilt both clear in his eyes, his own hands pressed to Arum’s chest.

“It seems our time has run out before our dance is finished, honeysuckle,” Arum murmurs, and he is torn between the urge to laugh and the urge to bury his face in his claws and scream. “I admit- I admit I am disappointed.”

Damien makes a choking sort of noise, and it shifts into something of a laugh as he steps back, pulling himself from Arum’s softened grasp. “Yes, I- I am as well. But-”

Arum sees the sharpness that has returned to Damien’s eyes, the stiffness that has returned to his posture.

“You have your duty, Sir Damien,” Arum murmurs. He will not die for this little knight, no. He may- Arum may have some strange fondness for him, may have made some foolish allowances, but- there is a window within reach and if he needs he can easily knock this human to the ground, at the very least-

Sir Damien does not draw his bow again, however.

He stands, only a foot or so away from Arum but distant and cool, now, and he mutters tranquility under his breath three times like some sort of spell, and then he straightens his spine as he meets Arum’s eyes again.

“My duty,” Damien echoes, frowning. “You do not belong here in these chambers, of course, but- had you-” Damien hesitates, his hands flexing awkwardly at the strap of his quiver. “Had you taken anything before I found you, Arum?”

Arum works his jaw, clenching his teeth for a long moment before he answers, realizing only as Damien asks that he has been- utterly distracted from his purpose by this little diversion. “No,” he admits in a hiss. “I was not expecting interruption quite so soon.”

“Then it seems that the only person you have stolen from,” Damien says, “is me. If you remove yourself from these chambers, there will be no further cause for conflict or alarm.”

Arum stares down at the knight. “You… you are… full of surprises, little honeysuckle.”

“You stole a dance, as you said. I think in giving you another, we have evened that score. The only other thing you stole from me-”

He pauses, and Arum hears the poet’s heart stumble, hears his breathing pitch a little strange.

“What… what else have I stolen, little basilisk?”

Damien steps closer again, and Arum smothers another compulsive noise as Damien’s hands find his shoulders. “A kiss.”

Arum blinks, and Damien bites his lip before he meets Arum’s eyes to continue, lifting his hands further to very, very lightly cup the cheeks of Arum’s mask, a thumb brushing down one of his stylized teeth.

“It was a rather innocent one, and with this barrier between us, of course. And I- I believe you told me that when we finished our dance, you would remove your mask.” Damien inhales, unsteady, before he continues, “Show me your face, Arum, and return the kiss you stole, and- and I shall have no cause to call you a thief. I will be content to consider this a mistake, and you may leave without harm.”

Arum realizes that his own heart is pounding, too, from some combination of desire and despair. He wants-

Arum wants many foolish things, just now. This ridiculous human revelry has caught him up in its net, and his mind is spinning with song and heat and touch and laughter and all of this has been too much like a dream, too much altogether, and if he means to survive, he must wake up.

Letting Sir Damien know the face of the monster he has been in the arms of for much of the evening might serve to do just that, Arum thinks, perhaps a little wildly. This dream will certainly not survive that shock. Not for either of them.

Arum inhales, swallows, and with his heart still pounding he nods.

“If those are your terms, honeysuckle,” he says, his voice low in the effort not to shake. “Lift my mask, then. I shall do as you say, return the kiss I stole, and then I will- I will leave.”

Damien stares up at him, his eyes flicking between Arum’s, and after a moment his gentle hands push the mask up, and just as Arum suspected the knight’s eyes go wide with shock when he sees Arum’s face through the dark.

Damien seems stunned to stillness, near to a statue, and Arum can hear the footsteps of the other unwelcome humans slowly growing closer, and Arum still feels mad with this evening, still feels the rhythm of his heart or the rhythm of the dance downstairs beating through his very bones, and Damien has not leapt instantly to attack and that is certainly only the shock of Arum as he truly is, but-

Before Arum can reconsider, he leans down.

He is only doing as Damien asked, of course.

Damien makes a muffled noise as the thin line of Arum’s lips presses against his own, and Arum barely knows what he is doing but Damien kisses back after only the briefest of pauses and the heat of his skin is even more pleasant like this, his breath even sweeter when gasped against Arum’s scales, and Arum realizes that he has lifted his hands to cup Damien’s face only after he has already done so.

Damien breaks the kiss but does not pull back just yet, pressing his forehead against Arum’s as they both breathe, as they both find their footing again.

“Have I provoked you to bite, yet, little basilisk?” Arum hisses against Damien’s lips, and the poet gasps, his hands flexing against Arum’s shoulders.

“Sir Damien?”

The voice is far too close for comfort, now, likely only a room or so away. Arum does not have time to understand what he has just done, what Damien has allowed. He only has survival. The other knights-

They will not be like his little basilisk. He knows that, at the very least.

Damien stumbles back a step, pressing a hand to his mouth with his cheeks painted so very dark, and when he lifts his eyes to meet Arum’s again, Arum-

Arum hears the latch move on the door. The song is over, and they are out of time.

Arum flips his mask back down over his face, stares at Damien for only one more heartbeat, and then he turns to spring towards the window, back into the night and the noise outside.

Sakura / cont. @shikkotsunin​  

Sakura’s heart lurches into her throat when they speak, but the Sannin is right: there would come a time when she would have to face someone dear, someone who she possessed in her memory with tenderness and smiles, and there would be something ugly she’d uncover. Sakura knew better than to think that this would end in fanfare, that she would escape intact. Doing the right thing was rarely the most wanted, especially in a haven of patriotism like Konoha where people lived happily and obliviously. Because that was the social contract: in order to live in safety, people were willing to give up certain freedoms, to shutter their view of certain avenues, all in order to live in some semblance of peace.

Except, where did you draw the line? How many freedoms were relinquished until one couldn’t move? How blinkered could someone be before they were blinded and made to look at a painting of what the higher ups wanted to see? It was funny. Orochimaru had long been a tenebrous being shrouded in shadows, this fluid scapegoat that transformed according to the accuser’s accusation. That didn’t mean she saw them as innocent, but Morino’sensei had taught her that she had to look where it was gray. That in between point A and point B, she needed a winding, meandering route to take in between. “I’ll be honest with you, Orochimaru-sama, Morino-sensei mentioned something like that. Once, I was the foolish girl screaming at Sasuke to come back to the village. I didn’t know why he didn’t want to return. Then I found out.”

Ibiki had been stern with her. She’d be the face of what she was undertaking, there was no mistaking that. People would see her, and accuse her. She couldn’t afford to see things as she had for years, and even if the light in her eyes had dulled some, she’d learned. By the gods, she’d learned. Reading, and reading, and reading. Running through the lives of so many different people, taking notes and mapping bridges between them. What crimes connected to what, what mental illness possessed what symptoms. Being good and gray as he’d told her to be.

“I think, in any other circumstance, I would have been at your throat. If I didn’t know, I’d shout at you for ‘corrupting’ Sasuke. For the past deeds you were portrayed as being the sole factor in. A mad scientist who chased immortality.” Her gaze was sharp upon them, but it doesn’t possess a threat. It was a memory. Gray matter where they were stored. “But, you’re in the gray. You’ve seen the playing field at both sides, and we both know I need that insight. I can’t afford to go to people who only have ever seen the village’s good and see nothing else.”

Taking another sip of her drink–maybe too generous to be just that–she placed her ochoko down again. “To answer that, yes. He can’t overtly pledge his support–since no one knows how successful this will be–but he’s given me more than adequate clearance. Enough to garner the resources I need.” What a lie it would be if this didn’t fill her with icy fear and resolved fire all at once, like the cold of that dungeon basement where the village disgorged the rotted and badly decayed corpses at her feet.

Sakura felt her eyes widen and throat tighten at the divulging of this new information, gripping her cup so tightly she could feel it crack and splinter. “I see. I think the obvious answer to the imprisoned man is to visit him first. Leverage his anger to work in my favor.” She wasn’t the same girl. As she’d been taught by one of the most dangerous men in Konoha, she felt like a predator. Sizing up weakness, looking for holes to exploit. It was a dangerous mindset, because power could corrupt so easily. Getting drunk on the assurance of victory was so like her impulsive temper, wasn’t it?

“Figuratively speaking, if I was to accompany you on such a mission after we finish what we do, how would you plan on rooting them out? Fake terrorist cell to pander to their wiles? Information? Or do you just know them well enough to follow their scent?” Of course, there was always the possibility of utilizing Orochimaru’s own assets as bait. The information, the forbidden jutsu, the people that could be leveraged or coveted items scattered like bird seed for them to find. Endless tracts of temptations for those running and seeking power.

“Is it a bit blunt to say we probably won’t need much time spent here? We’re both too experienced for that. In fact, maybe I can contact Kakashi-sensei to have leave to proceed the next objective.”

Corrupted Sasuke? They certainly had played a part, but that boys innocence had been lost the moment his brother stuck a knife in to his mothers throat. Leaving the body before his siblings young eyes. It hadn’t taken much to give the Uchiha a little push in to darkness. To take credit for corrupting him, as odd a victory that may seem to those less keen on using manipulation as a toy, it wasn’t fit for the serpent. But her comment still gets a smile from them, the thought that she may have, if she were that same girl from years before, be waging war upon seeing them. It certainly would have been a conversation coloured differently. They prefer this shade. When they hear the crack of the cup and see the intensity rise in her green eyes, their slender hands reaches across the table. Pale fingers lightly coiling around her wrist to position her hold nearer the wooden surface, a subtle request she unhand the object in her grasp. Lest more damage is dealt. They can’t help being amused by her response however - they liked ambition that teetered in to obsession. For truly, how else could anyone fully invest in a project without placing that much in to the goal? Like a dog fixated on a rabbit, or a doctor in surgery with a patient. If one did not lose themselves intensely in their task, if they didn’t give undivided attention, the results were simply never the same. “Each one of them will require a different means to reveal their location,” they say releasing her hand, golden eyes briefly veiled by thought, evidently working out each and every target in accordance to ease, “Tachimasa has a long list of health issues, he would be unable to live anywhere regionally cold or medically underdeveloped. Keeping that in mind, I can narrow down the search and have Karin assist with seeking him out,” they begin, knowing the woman would not bother question the vipers reasons for making use of her sensory abilities. There were only so many warm and well developed villages that did not coincide with being past enemies of the Hidden Leaf. They move on to the next council member. “Hagemu has been indulging in the trade of illegal weaponry since his defection,” they say, “elusive as he is, I can easily make contact with those who work under him, and see if using Kusanagi as bait will draw him out in person. Since my affiliation with the Hidden Leaf is not public knowledge, I doubt he will be scared off assuming I have connections with his enemies. If anything, someone like me is just who he is used to getting business from.”

Then there was the final council member, someone the viper had quite respected when they were younger. Thinking the workings of her mind to be brilliant, curious with how vocally, and with unwavering confidence, she would demand better reasoning from Hiruzen during meetings.  “Lastly, there is Machiho-sama,” they say, “I know the prison she was originally placed in, but the chances she was relocated is something to consider. Either way, the movement of prisoners is tracked and recorded, the paper trail will be easy enough to get a hold of and use.” Now their gaze becomes curious, evidently about to place their first hurdle in front of Sakura, to see what she is willing to do, wanting to do and deeming necessary or risky. The outcome of this little mission is not quite in the serpents interest, but how easily won over they are when it comes to ambitious shinobi. They would be lying if they said they didn’t want to see where her mission would lead her. What would become of her ideals, goals and mind. “You could leverage her anger... or, you could wager her freedom,” they say, fangs flashed briefly in their grin. Propping an elbow on the table, their head rests lazily on their hand, their gaze catlike in a playfully predatory fashion, “she was imprisoned for treason, because she refused to allow Hiruzen to continue down his path of no return. She was much like you, absolute in her pursuit for proper justice. It wasn’t seen as heroic during my days as a child however. Her questioning of the Hokage, her effort to be more open with the public against orders... it is why she was silenced behind bars. Perhaps you would be killing two birds with one stone hm? Freeing her could be seen as another means to acquire justice, and gaining the information you seek may be an added reward.”

Αιώνια αγάπη (AU) pt.1

01: First day mistakes

Summary: Getting a chance to pledge for her mother’s old sorority, Y/N is completely unaware of the turmoil that await ahead. Once she meets the handsome Dolan twins, she finds herself making the mistake of liking them.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language

Word count: ~ 4000

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST  

Thank you for being in the story: @graysons-thumb as Perry, @daddygraysonsbitch as Sara Howell. 

Also a big shout out to my girl Yashi for being a beta reader on this! @godlydolans.

Sorority life. It's supposed to be a glamorous experience with parties, sorority sisters you can always count on and crazy cute fraternity guys who are more than just their body. The whole point is to provide students with opportunities to lead, serve, build lifelong relationships to fall back on and grow intellectually.

That's what Y/N expected, at least.

As a legacy, she had a place already guaranteed in the Kappa Delta chapter of Dartmouth. It's practically all her mother ever talked about concerning college and although she was sick of it at the time, she came to miss her excited rambling once she passed.

It was never a path Y/N wanted to take, quite the opposite. Y/N always planned to escape the Greek life and Dartmouth in general if possible. However, those rambles her mother annoyed her with in the past had become the very reason why she set her sights on Dartmouth and Kappa Delta. She was determined all through high school to land a spot and having her legacy status definitely made it easier. She wasn't the type to enjoy nepotism, but there was no way she'd ever refuse that advantage in this matter.

After her mother died, her determination to follow in her footsteps was the only thing that connected her to her spirit. She felt closer to her mother, like she was still there and cheering for her. She wanted to make her proud and continue what she wanted for her.

So she did.

With her dad unable to drive her, Y/N took matters in her own hands and drove to Dartmouth on her own. She didn't mind it, though. In fact, she's become used to her father's absence. He loved her mother dearly and her death left him a changed man. He still took care of Y/N, he gave her attention she needed, but he turned to work for a cure to his pain. Y/N understood, because she did a similar thing with her college obsession. She looked a lot like her mother, but her temper matched her father's.

Parking the car, she's immediately greeted with a sensory overload of flashy clothes and loud music, so many people walking around her and laughing at jokes she wasn't in on. They milled about with rucksacks, mostly in little packs of three or four. Jeans almost ubiquitous, although a few dressed in bright colors, punk or goth.

She grabbed her bag, knowing her things are already shipped to the sorority house on campus. Although she'll have to go through the pledging process, she had already received her rushing invitation which she gladly accepted. The girls she talked to were over the moon, because having legacies is always a great statement on the sorority and its quality.

Y/N was a sign of their good reputation, one she wanted to maintain.

Engrossed in her own thoughts, Y/N stumbles, tripping on her own two feet. Time seems to slow down when you're falling. In the seconds it took her to reach the ground she knew it was going to hurt. Just before she hits the ground, eyes closed to prepare for the pain, she finds herself wrapped in someone's arms. The cologne is a dead giveaway of the sex, large muscles that encased her serving as backup proof.

Squinting with her left eye, Y/N faced a breathtaking view and a mirthful laugh.

His hair is messy, wild and pushed up in the front, the sides pushing forward as if to form wings of sorts. The deep brown strands let the sun trickle through to her face, almost blinding her. To be fair, she's completely unsure if the sun is to blame or his beauty. His eyes carry a kindness she's rarely seen in her life and a glint of mischief she'd always found entertaining. Arched, slightly bushy eyebrows and long, thick eyelashes frame his eyes and it makes her heart speed up beyond what she thought possible. His nose is perfectly formed, the kind of a button-small shape that achieved a look she'd think was thoroughly photoshopped. Her eyes flicker to his lips, licking her own subconsciously. Those lips are plump, gently pink and tucked to the left corner to form a self-satisfied smirk. It brings her attention to his left cheek and she notes the cute freckle that only adds onto his already extraordinary good looks.

"Can I help you to your feet now or will you stare at my face all day?" The guy remarks playfully, ruining the picture she had painted in her mind.

Why do guys speaking usually destroy all the romance of the moment?

She holds onto his shoulders with both hands, helping herself up with little to no assistance on his behalf.

"Thanks." She fakes a smile, politely thanking the guy in front of her. She can finally tell just how tall he is compared to her and she always considered herself to be an average height. However, next to him, she felt like a tiny figurine - small and fragile.

She takes a step back, preparing to turn around and the guy's eyes widen, grabbing a hold of her forearm quickly.

"Wait. I didn't mean to be rude." He apologizes, his previously cocky persona melting and a nervous one taking place.

"I'm Ethan." He releases her arm, offering his hand to shake.

Cautious, Y/N takes his hand and gives it a weak shake before retracting her hand to the side. She didn't want to keep the contact for too long, not wanting to suddenly find his hands attractive too. He's got too much going for him look-wise and she can live without getting hooked on him.

At least not so soon.

"Y/N." She tucks her hand inside her jacket pocket, feeling that dreaded awkwardness flood her.

"Can you do me a favor?" Ethan asks coyly, looking around before taking a step closer to her and leaning in.

"Uh, sure." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a tinge of panic rushing through her mind with his sudden closeness.

She's always had issues with people entering her personal space without permission, which is why she was on the brink of freaking out. As if he could sense it, Ethan frowned slightly, dragging his foot back and resuming his former position.

Relaxing, Y/N let out a long, heavy sigh as if she was holding her breath the entire time.

"I'm supposed to do this incredibly stupid thing, a dare of sorts and I was thinking you can be my audience? Like, maybe it will suck less with you watching me and hopefully not judging me like others will?" Ethan chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

Raising her eyebrow, her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips in thought before giving him a curt nod and a small smile of encouragement.

"Sure. I kind of owe you for saving my life a few minutes ago." Y/N reminds him, getting a very relieved Ethan to smile in gratitude. He didn't seem interested in charging her for that, like it was his second nature, but he'd sure as hell use it if it meant his embarrassment would be lessened.

Ethan cleared his throat, anxiously looking around to see if there's anyone watching him beside Y/N. Once he was certain he's in the clear, Ethan busted out the most ridiculous dance moves and a rather high pitched performance of a song Y/N deemed to be a joke.

"I don't need you crying..." Ethan's face contorted, his eyes closing shut to hide from the world.

"I don't need you lying..." He continues and even Y/N is having a hard time listening to the cringe this song turned into. People began to gather, laughing at Ethan which started to fuel her anger.

"Just one thing in life you've got to learn. Just one thing." His voice breaks and a guy whips out a phone, starting to film this disastrous event. Noticing a piece of paper in Ethan's hand, Y/N snatches it fast, stopping Ethan. He opens his eyes in fright, looking at the crowd around him like a deer in headlights, finding himself tongue tied.

"Hit me with your one thing, oh, oh, oh." Y/N starts, surprising not only Ethan, but also everyone around her. Unlike Ethan, Y/N's voice sounds trained. The vocals flow from her lips in such an aesthetically pleasing sound that Ethan is flustered. Despite horrible lyrics, the song doesn't seem so bad coming from her mouth. She nudges Ethan, pointing to the paper. She reminds him to join in, finishing the song together.

"Just one thing in life you've got to learn!" Crumbling the paper in her hand, Y/N hides it in her jeans pocket and raises her hand in the air. She opens her hand, turning her palm toward Ethan, signalling a high five is in order.

Without hesitation, Ethan high fives her, covering his mouth right after.

"That was the best thing ever. Thank you so much." He whisper shouts, eyes wide and his shoulders hunched to help him lean forward and down to be face level with the girl before him.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm awesome that way." She tucks her hair behind her ear, shyly averting her gaze to the ground. Ethan decides to be bold, pressing the tip of his index finger under her chin, tilting it up so he'd look into her eyes once more.

He liked her eyes - the colour, the intense emotion hiding behind. It's as if she doesn't even know how beautiful she is and it awakens something inside of him; something he had long forgotten. It reminds him of the past, two hundred years ago to be exact and recognition flashes in his brown hues.

"You really are." He subconsciously gravitates toward her, his lips parting ever so slightly. She's intoxicating, almost impossible to ignore and he doesn't even want to try.

Y/N doesn't move, her breath hitching in her throat when she sees Ethan is coming closer with the intent of kissing her and yet, she refuses to move. She never does this, but with him? It's an unexplained pull and she doesn't want to fight it.

"GET YOUR GRUBBY HANDS OFF HER, KDR!" A girl shouts, interrupting their moment.

Y/N jerks back, whipping around to face the screaming girl who is clearly pissed off with the almost show of affection between her and Ethan.

The girl is about 5'7'', taller than Y/N almost 5 inches! Her hair shone like the sea at night, the black strands utterly white where the bright rays fell. It falls just below her shoulders, her bangs framing her pretty face. Eyes the colour of aged mahogany, one rich and warm but most of all, burning with rage. Her cropped hoodie and high waisted jeans are stylish, but Y/N doesn't have time to focus on anything else as she nears them, pointing her index finger at Ethan accusingly.

"Next time you touch one of ours with those hands will be the last time you have hands! Capiche?" She threatens and Y/N turns to her with a frown before it dawns on her.

While every sorority had a brother frat house they worked with in furthering their goals, the history in Dartmouth had a slightly different look on it.

Well, Kappa Delta did.

Ever since the houses existed, Kappa Delta Delta and Kappa Delta Rho, the brother fraternity, have hated each other. It goes back to the very beginning and for reasons unknown to both parties at this point. What is known is that the competitiveness never stopped to this day, the bigotry runs deep.

And this girl, whoever she is, clearly belongs to Kappa Delta. That means Ethan...

Y/N stops, quickly taking one more step back and raises both hands in mock surrender.

"I had no idea!" She whisper shouts, her eyes wide as she moves over to the girl and narrows them at Ethan.

"You never said you're the enemy." Y/N points out, throwing her hair over her shoulder before turning around and stomping away.

"Hold up!" The girl runs after Y/N, catching up in no time.

"Can't. Need to get away." Y/N says through gritted teeth, horrified with what almost happened. Of course he's too good to be true. She knew there had to be a catch.

"I won't tell the girls, don't worry." Those words stop Y/N from moving, turning to her new companion.

"We've all been tempted by the Dolan twins one way or another. My lips are sealed." The girl states and Y/N raises a brow.

"There's two of them?!" She exclaims, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh yeah! I had the Grayson bug, but he never dates anyone. We have a theory he's gay or he really does hate our sorority." She puts a hand to her mouth, whispering the last bit as if it's a top secret information meant to stay between her and Y/N.

"Well, this one certainly did a number on me." Y/N breaths out, smiling and shaking her head.

"I'm Perry!" She introduces herself, nudging Y/N to keep moving. "And we need to hurry to the house if you want to make the pledging on time."

Y/N rushed after the girl, wondering where she gets her energy from. She didn't even ask her name, almost like she already knew her. Which makes sense considering she's a legacy pledge, one that shouldn't even fret about her position but she does. She always worries about everything, it's just who she is.

I fraternized with the enemy, she thinks, praying it remains a secret.

Arriving at the house, Y/N halts her movements completely.

She looks at the large house, a mansion she's meant to enter, her entire body filling with panic whenever she makes a move forward. It's like a step forward, step back sort of a thing. She takes that step forward, prepared to take on the world and make her mum proud and then she remembers how she got this opportunity and returns to her original position.

She's ashamed, completely horrified by her actions. She's never been the type to thrive on nepotism. Y/N values hard work above all else, but ever since her mother died she allowed herself these small crimes. She hates it, but doesn't change her ways. It's not cheating if she's born with this right, is it?

Shaking her head at her own cowardly behavior, she lifts her chin up and purses her lips. Straightening her maroon colored leather jacket, she takes a deep breath and starts moving toward the building.

Just be yourself. Just walk in there and own it. Sure, this isn't on your own merit, but you deserve it. Just take a deep breath and go.

Her thoughts aren't helping, but she does find her steps are quicker and steadier. She feels her lips stretch into a pleased smile when she notices the door is already open, as if the building itself is welcoming her.

One step until she's inside, blissfully anxious and a puddle of nerves, when it happens.

BAM.

She stumbles back, holding onto her nose in shock. Her eyes water and lips part wide open as her knees bend to preserve what's left of her balance. The pain of walking straight into glass doors is nothing compared to the shame that washed over her. She's consumed in it, imagining how she'd have two vertical lines on her forehead and a blue coloring at the top of her head with her pupils being only dots in big white circles if this were a cartoon.

But it's not. Instead of that image, she got a bunch of frats walking out their house, laughing and pointing at her. She turns to them with a glare, finding a tall and rather buff guy standing on the porch of the house next door. He looks quite familiar with his lips quirked upwards. He's fighting a smile, one that she can't as she giggles awkwardly. She respects his attempt to stifle his laugh, but not the hand he used to send her a small, teasing wave.

"You alright there?" He asks, his voice dark and low, his tone cheerful.

Oh, he's enjoying this, she thinks.

She faces him, finding herself gobsmacked. Not only is he truly tall and burly with dark hair and a stubble, but he's also truly pretty with his earthly hues and pearly-white smile that serves as a stark contrast to his brown hair. She's always been a sucker for tall, dark and handsome men and so far, she's met two that fit that description perfectly. The first one turned out to be an enemy and considering where she's at, she had to assume this one could be too.

He's familiar somehow, though. Almost like he reminds her of Ethan.

Didn't Perry say Ethan had a twin?

"Yeah. Only bruised my ego." Y/N breathes out, keeping a nervous smile on her face as she squints to look at him better. Heat rushes to her face, turning her cheeks a deep pink in spite the layer of make up covering them.

"Don't worry. It's not the first time this has happened." He chuckles, leaning on the door frame and folds his arms over his chest.

"I'm hoping you'll get by without anymore incidents like this. Or should I keep a close eye on you? Just in case?" He smirks, watching her intently.

She's definitely blushing right now.

"I t-think I'm good." She stutters, mentally facepalming. She might not be the most confident person in the world, but she's not usually a stuttering mess. It's concerning considering she still has an entire night of sorority events to do.

"Well then, if you need me, just ask for a Grayson. I'll come runnin'." He turns around, glancing over his shoulder while he walks away.

Boy, does he look good walking away! Phew!

"Remember when I said Ethan had a twin?" Perry pops up again, a friend by her side.

She forces Y/N to stop staring at Grayson's ass and actually focus on the reason why she's here. She also reminds her of their conversation and her heart drops.

Not again.

"Did I just...Yeah." She turns toward the girls with a well rehearsed smile.

She looks to the other woman, no - girl. She has curly, shoulder length, rich brown hair which reflects a dark red under the light. Her eyes are almost grey - not a dull, unremarkable grey like that of concrete or stone. They are the grey of the last ashes on a fire, tossed up on the breeze; the grey of dove feathers, not the albino kind, but the ones with a hue so soft that they could have been pencil drawn. They had that look of birds flying on sunlit days, the shine and quick movement, yet relaxed, purposeful, at ease.

"Great! Then you know to stay away from them. I'm Sara Howell and I'm supposed to take you up to your room. Don't tell the other pledges you got one, though." She gives Y/N a kind smile, noticing the jitters she's drowning in. Once she comes closer, Y/N realizes she's about the same height as her, finally feeling like there are some normal sized people around campus for a change.

"Oh. So, um. How are they? Like, are they tough during pledges...Hazing a thing?" Y/N asks, rubbing her palms together slowly, putting more pressure on the part from where her fingers sprout.

Sara smiles, pursing her lips in thought before taking a step back and nodding her over to follow. Y/N spares a look, searching for a glimpse of either brother before walking after Sara, biting her lower lip. She can taste the lipstick on her tongue, knowing her teeth are doing damage to the carefully applied red colour Ethan almost smeared on his face.

She stops at the bottom of the stairs, giving Y/N a good look of her face that is freckled as stars in the night sky, which is a clear sign to take a step back. Personal space is important and she'd rather not make her uncomfortable. To be honest, Y/N feel uncomfortable too.

"Just a little info before we go up where the sisters are. Kappa Delta Rho are a big no no. They're not all bad, some are great. Like, Grayson. He is a little harder to work with and he always expects you to be on top of things if you're forced to do some events together. Ethan is a little more loose and fun to be around. He's also a big flirt and I'd suggest you give in only if you don't value your position here." Sara whispers the last bit, looking around to make sure no one heard them.

"Girls from our sorority slept with him?" Y/N prods deeper, furrowing her eyebrows. This sorority has a good name of keeping to their values, it's reputation indisputable. That's the main reason why Y/N's mother chose it.

Is it corrupt? Because girls can't keep their legs closed around frat guys?

Sara shushes her, using her right index finger as a signal for her to lean in.

"And once he's done, Grayson finds out and literally goes crazy. He was livid when he had to cut a few frats last year cause they slept with our girls who are no longer here. They were kicked out too. Ethan stayed because Grayson couldn't dump his brother. Grayson usually makes him do some embarrassing thing on campus and forgives him after." She explains in a hushed tone, kinking her eyebrow.

So, that’s what that awful song was. Ethan’s punishment.

"But Ethan's so hot, I'd literally give up this sorority in a heartbeat." She shrugs, walking up the stairs, leaving Y/N confused and stumbling up.

So, one twin is anal about everything and the other is a frolic with a mission to sleep with anything that moves which gets the first one pissed. Not the best combination, but a fair warning.

She reminds herself to thank Sara if this works out well for her.

Once they're up, Sara leads her to the bottom of the hall, opening a bedroom with a single bed. Those are extremely rare, usually reserved for THE sister and not a pledge. She lets Y/N in, stepping beside her, whispering.

"I'd let Grayson destroy me too if he wasn't so full of himself and actually spared anyone a second look."

To say Y/N's taken aback is an understatement, but she decides to roll with it. She's not susceptible to men's charms that easily.

Okay, maybe she's not immune, but she can behave.

I can!

The entire room is incredibly aesthetically pleasing. The walls are a golden yellow with several paintings giving it a wealthy vibe, the carpets are a gentle purple giving the room an open and airy look. The bed is unmade, her things stacked in boxes.

"I get a single bed room?" Y/N questions, frowning.

"You're a legacy. We don't get many legacies and so...special treatment. I'm not jealous." Sara sighs, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Maybe I am...Just a little bit." Sara chuckles, forcing a laugh from Y/N too.

"Get settled, relax and be ready in a white dress at the bottom of the stairs at 9 pm sharp." Leaving her alone in the room had Y/N jumping in her spot, overwhelmed with happiness. She does a happy dance, landing like a leaf with a sway on her bay window, looking out only to find someone's been watching.

Grayson.

He laughs, the sound of his booming voice reaching her easily through the open window and she glares at him, pouting.

He shakes his head in amusement, giving her that tiny, teasing wave once more.

"Hey there, clumsy. Fancy meeting you here." He shouts from his window and in panic, Y/N pulls down her curtains, her heart pounding inside her chest.

Staying away might be harder than I thought.

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

Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart  @heeydolan @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @godlydolans   @fallinginlove-16  @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid  @dinnerwiththedolans

Enforced Rest

I guess this is just the week of comfort kink for me. Thank you @thegreatlibraryfangirl for the inspiration. Here is some young Wolfe/Santi comfort kink. Wolfe is overworking himself and needs Santi to make him take a break. Whether he likes it or not.

No sex, but some consensually non-consensual restraint and sensory deprivation.

When there was this much to be done, Wolfe avoided leaving his desk until it was utterly unavoidable. For instance, when his pot of coffee was empty and his bladder ready to burst. A strong correlation between those two things.

The house was so dark and quiet that he was startled to find Nic waiting for him in the kitchen. He had assumed Nic would already be asleep. Nic usually knew better than to wait up for him when he was so busy with work.

Dressed in Wolfe's long red silk robe, Nic stood directly in front of the stove, making it impossible to brew more coffee. Unacceptable. "What do you want?" he grumbled, reaching to open the cabinet where they kept the coffee.

Nic caught his wrist in a firm grip. "You need a break," he said, using his stern command voice.

"Nonsense. I need nothing of the sort," Wolfe snapped, snatching his hand back.

Trying to, at least. Nic's grip was like iron, and he twisted Wolfe's arm around behind his back. "I'm invoking the Sisyphean Protocol. Give me that," he said, and held out his free hand for the coffee pot.

The Sisyphean Protocol. A concession to their mutual tendency to overwork themselves in the face of the unrelenting demands of their careers. They each had granted the other consent to interrupt their work, by force if necessary, when they lost themselves in it. Not relevant in this case.

Wolfe held the coffee pot out of Nic’s reach, trying to twist himself free. “Do you have any idea how many more of these peer reviews I have to get done tonight to stay on schedule?” he snapped, glaring at his unrelenting lover.

“No. And I don’t care, either. You aren’t doing them.” Nic caught the coffee pot by the handle and wrenched it free of Wolfe’s grasp, setting it down on the counter before pulling Wolfe into a tight and constraining embrace. “You have not slept for two nights straight. I highly doubt your writing is half as coherent as you think it is.”

Being held in those powerful arms felt far better than it should have. “Bullshit. I’ve slept.” He aimed a kick for Nic’s shin, missing when Nic easily sidestepped without loosening his hold.

“Naps at your desk don’t count,” Nic said. Seizing Wolfe by the arms, he guided him toward the bedroom. “Come on, you’re getting some rest.”

Not one to give in easily, Wolfe fought the whole way, snarling at Nic as they went. “You have no idea how important these are. The fucking Artifex will be choosing who gets to go to the conference in Beijing, and if that bastard has the slightest excuse to pass me over...”

“An excuse like turning in incomprehensible peer reviews?” Nic pushed him face-down onto the bed and straddled him there, pinning Wolfe’s arms at his sides with muscular legs. “You are going to take a break now, and if you keep arguing, I will gag you.”

The threat only made Wolfe’s irritation spike higher. "You will do nothing of the sort. Did you not hear me? This is-"

Nic's hand closed on his jaw. In his other hand, he held a gag, a thick roll of leather with straps to fasten around Wolfe's head. "There is only one word I will listen to right now. Do you want to say it?"

The word that would stop everything and trigger a renegotiation of the protocol. Wolfe considered it. Decided that was likely a greater distraction from his work than whatever Nic had planned, and allowed Nic to push the gag into his mouth. If he changed his mind, if Nic’s enforced break dragged on too long, he could tap out the corresponding code.

The smell and taste of leather momentarily overwhelmed his senses. The bulk of the gag forced his tongue down and his teeth apart. Uncomfortable and undignified, but more than a little satisfying to bite into, if he was honest with himself.

Wolfe didn’t particularly want to be honest with himself. He shouted obscenities into the gag, cursing Nic in every language he knew for interrupting his work, a stream of meaningless sound abruptly cut off when Nic settled the earmuffs into place over his ears.

Issued by the High Garda for use in target practice with their noisier weapons, the earmuffs effectively cancelled any sound quieter than an explosion. That included Wolfe’s own voice. Without thinking, he ceased his swearing, biting down hard on the gag instead, working his teeth against the thick leather. He thought of the revenge he might take when Nic let him loose.

A tug on his hair forced him to lift his head, and a moment later, the blindfold covered his eyes, cutting off even the limited view he’d had from his position on the bed. A wide and heavy band of black fabric, knotted tightly behind his head to block all light.

Silence and darkness. Nic had plunged him into silence and darkness, and he was going to make Nic pay as soon as he was free.

That currently seemed unlikely. Nic remained astride him, holding him in a firm grasp while the struggled. One-on-one, he’d never been a match for Nic, and it wouldn’t be a fair fight now.

He was getting a headache. The damned gag was making his head hurt. Too big, too tight, too irritating. Or maybe it was the earmuffs, or the blindfold. Too many things on his head, none of them comfortable.

None of them possible to remove. One final push to free himself, and he let his body relax. Tried to, at least. His muscles wouldn’t stop twitching.

Jittering.

He could hear the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Too fast.

He could feel the tension in his jaw.

The aches in his back and legs.

His wrist. Gods, the cramp in his wrist.

His head pounded in rhythm with his pulse. It eased, just slightly, when he loosened his jaw.

With nothing else to occupy his mind, he turned his attention to his body, feeling its weariness and tension for the first time in hours, maybe longer. He’d pushed through so much. As much as he thought he’d just relaxed, he found that he could loosen his muscles more. His jaw loosened, and the gag troubled him less. His neck loosened. His shoulders. His arms.

One piece at a time, he let his body rest, at least as much as it was capable of doing with so much coffee still coursing through his veins. He twitched, still, but the pressure in his head continued to ease. His breathing calmed, and his pulse slowed.

Nic was right. Damn him, he was right. It felt better to float in the silence and darkness like this, in a place where the weight of responsibility didn’t bear down so hard on him. He’d pushed through so much pain. So much exhaustion.

Time passed, and it didn’t matter how much time it was. Nic lifted the earmuffs, and Wolfe cringed at the sudden input of sound. Even the quiet of night came with the whistle of wind, the chirps of insects, the hiss of steam engines.

“Better?” Nic asked, unbuckling the gag. “Or do you need more?”

“Fuck you,” Wolfe said as soon as the gag left his mouth. No real venom behind the words, just the last of his irritation working its way out. “More.”

Nic kissed him, then replaced the gag. “I’ll get out the wrapping cloth, then."

(To be continued with mummification? Maybe?)

Don’t Give Me Those Eyes

A dear, sweet friend asked for a piece based on the song by James Blunt.  Having been in a bit of a writing dry spell, this has taken MUCH longer than I had hoped.  Thanks for your patience @a-butterfly-on-his-tummy.  Part two coming soon.   If you like it, please like, reblog or send me a message.  I live for that stuff. If you don’t like it, I love that feedback too. 

WARNING: There are some domestic violence issues--emotional and sexual abuse. Read at your own risk.

Harry tuned the satellite radio to a soft instrumental station and the notes wafted through the room. The scents of vanilla and cinnamon perfumed the air from the half-dozen white mini candles he had arranged on the tables and the desk, their tiny flames casting a golden glow. Setting the remote on the credenza he turned to look at the woman reclining naked on the bed.   His lips spread into a smile as he walked to the edge and climbed up next to her.  Her soft pink lips curled up to mirror his and she reached to place her fingers on his cheek.  He sighed at her touch and leaned gently into her hand before talking it in his as he kissed her fingertips then leaned down to kiss her lips.   Slowly, because tonight they had the time, he explored her mouth savoring her taste.  He planned to taste all of her before the night was finished.  He planned to touch every inch of her and sear the memory in his mind.  He planned to love her as she deserved to be loved.

They made love all night long, trying to keep the dawn at bay.  The Earth spun as it always did, inexorably speeding them to their rendezvous with the sun.  Their passion became more desperate as the first rays peeked over the Sunrise Mountains to the east.  Through the window they watched the sky lighten from black to gray to pink while wrapped in each other, whispering secrets that only they two could share.  They showered together and he ordered breakfast as she packed the few clothes she had brought into her carry-on.  They ate the simple meal together in the suite’s dining room while sitting as close to one another as they could.  Too soon it was time to call for the car.  She rose to get her things together and he watched helplessly.

The unspoken rule was that they never talked about it.  Never.  But he couldn’t stop the words that came out of his mouth as she bent to pick up her bags.

“Elizabeth, please. Please don’t go.”

She froze with her back to him and he held his breath, not daring to hope.  A small shudder rippled through her and she turned to look at him, tears glimmering in her eyes.

“Harry.  You know I can’t.”

“Please,” he whispered, not daring to move lest he grab her and never let her go.

“Harry, I can’t…”

“Damn it!  I hate this! Elizabeth.  Look at me and tell me that you don’t love me. Tell me!”

“Harry…” she began as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Don’t go back to him.  Don’t leave me. Stay.  Stay and let me love you.”

She covered her mouth to stifle the sobs she couldn’t control.  He moved to hold her but she put her hand out to stop him.  “Please Harry.  I have to go,” she whispered.

He stood still and watched her walk toward the door, her back stiff.

“I love you.  I love you Elizabeth,” he called after her.  Her steps faltered but she didn’t stop.  She went out the door without looking back.  The click of the lock was lost to his shouted “No!”

*

He had met her at an industry party a year ago.  She was there with her husband, an up and coming producer whose latest project was climbing the charts.  Harry had been impressed with him and had even thought about working with the man until he had heard him talking with Tyler Johnson.  They were catching up, having worked together on another project previously, when Tyler asked about his wife.

“Why do you want to know about my wife?” he had asked, eyes narrowing as he stared at Tyler, lips pressed into a thin line.

Harry saw Tyler’s eyes widen as he responded “She was always so sweet when she came to the studio.  I was a big fan of her cookies.”

The man continued to stare at Tyler and, as he watched, the furrow between Harry’s brows  deepened as the tension became more and more uncomfortable.  Finally noticing that Harry was standing there, Jared turned his attention to him and his eyes narrowed again.

“What are you looking at, Styles?” the aggression in his tone hard to miss.

“I’m not sure,” Harry responded evenly, straightening his posture as he stood to his full height which happened to be quite a few inches taller than the man before him.  Though his stance was relaxed, it was clear that Harry was not intimidated.

The man grumbled something before stalking off.  

“What was that about?” Harry asked, watching Jared search the room.

“I have no idea.  His wife, Elizabeth, is a lovely woman.  I had no idea he would react like that. Weird.”

Tyler turned to a passing waiter to ask for another drink while Harry continued to watch the man as he moved stiffly around the room.  He stormed up to a woman who was chatting with a young recording artist and grabbed her arm interrupting their conversation.  Harry couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could hear the anger as the man’s voice got louder and louder.  The woman tried to calm him but he was not listening to her.  WIth a final word he turned on his heel and strode off to the bar.

Harry continued looking at the woman who was trying to reassure the young singer.  She was tall, at least 5’8”, with dark blonde hair and a pert little nose in a pretty face.  She laughed and Harry felt the corners of his lips curl at the musical sound.  She glanced in his direction and he inhaled sharply as her big blue eyes met his.  What the hell just happened?  She smiled shyly at him and he felt his dimples pop as he returned the expression.  She turned back to the young woman next to her and resumed their conversation, a bit of pink rising into her cheeks.  As surely as if he had been a fish hooked on her line, he felt himself being drawn to her and made his way casually in her direction.

*

Elizabeth was trying to regain her internal composure.  She had become adept at schooling her features into a mask of calm so she was pretty sure that her face did not reflect the turmoil that Jared’s rant had caused.  She didn’t know what had set him off this time but she knew that he blamed her for whatever it was.  She sighed softly to herself thinking of the diatribe she would endure on the ride home.  Maybe if he got drunk enough he would pass out and forget.  She could only hope.  She tried to focus on what the young woman was saying but in truth she had forgotten her name.  It was something unusual.  Xenon? No, that was a gas.  Um, Xenia.  Yes, that was it.

Elizabeth noticed that Xenia had shifted her attention to something behind her.  Elizabeth was about to turn when a glass of champagne was held out to her.  She looked up to see Harry Styles holding the crystal flute, and she took it shyly muttering a thanks.

“Hi Xenia, it’s nice to see you again.”  Looking at Elizabeth he said, “Hi, I’m Harry.”

Elizabeth was mesmerized by his nearness.  It took her a moment to remember how to speak before she introduced herself.  “Hi Harry.  I’m Elizabeth.  Elizabeth Ezel.”  

Harry’s face lit up as he smiled at her, and she almost forgot to breathe at the sight.  To try and compose herself she took a sip of the bubbly wine.  Elizabeth could barely concentrate on the small talk, and she was grateful that Xenia was with them.  She chanced a look at Harry and found that he was watching her, his magnetic smile drawing her in.  She quickly turned her attention back to Xenia who was, thankfully, in the middle of a somewhat lengthy story about how she met Harry.  Elizabeth heard the words but had no idea what the young woman was saying.  Every nerve in her body seemed to be vibrating to a frequency that Harry emitted. She had no rational thoughts.  The primitive reptilian part of her brain had taken over so that all she could feel were sensory notes: intense green of his eyes, the deep rumble of his laugh, the cool of the glass in her hand, the sweet bubbles of the wine, the clean but spicy scent of his cologne.  

He had just asked her a question and she blinked while trying to force her mind to respond when her arm was grabbed in a painful grip by her husband.

“It’s time to leave,” he said, snatching the champagne flute from her other hand and placing it roughly on a table so that it fell over and the remains of the golden liquid spilled out and onto the floor.

“Jared! It’s made a mess---”

“Not. Another. Word,” he said through clenched teeth as he pulled her behind him towards the door.

Elizabeth felt the heat blooming in her cheeks and looked back apologetically at Harry and Xenia who were staring dumbstruck at the couple.  Harry took a step to follow but Xenia placed her hand on his arm.  

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, looking concerned.

Harry looked down at her before responding “Why?”

“I get the feeling that it would be worse for her later if you were to interfere.”

As realization of what she meant dawned the blood drained from his face.  He stared towards the door, a deep frown creasing his brow.

*

In the car on the way home Elizabeth sat mutely as Jared shouted at her.  

“I don’t know why I bring you to these things.  You’d think I would learn.  There you were throwing yourself at every man in the room.  I saw you drooling all over Styles, acting like a dog in heat.  You know what those industry people are talking about now?  What a slut Jared Ezel has for a wife.”

Elizabeth felt the heat rise to her cheeks once again as the vicious words stung her eyes.  She gripped the door handle and willed herself to not cry.  Jared was driving erratically, having imbibed far too much at the party.  She was somewhat afraid that they would wreck but a tiny part of her wondered if that would be a bad thing.  

“In case you have forgotten, you belong to me.  You. Are. Mine.”

Elizabeth kept her eyes downcast knowing that if she looked at him her revulsion would be apparent.  She could not risk that in the state he was in.  They were almost home.  Maybe he would get it all out of his system on the drive and she could just take a shower and go to bed.  

He made a wide, fast turn into their driveway, the tires squealing a bit before he slammed on the brakes to avoid driving through the garage door.  He turned the car off and bolted out unsteadily.  She sat for a moment with eyes closed trying to calm herself when her door was yanked open and he grabbed her wrist, dragging her out of the seat.  She stumbled as he pulled her along to the front door, cursing under his breath at her clumsiness.  Fumbling with the keys he managed to get the door open and slammed it behind them.  Throwing the keys onto the table in the foyer he turned to her.

Snatching a fistful of her hair in one hand and her jaw with the other, he forced her mouth open to receive his tongue in a bruising kiss. Elizabeth willed her muscles to relax, knowing that resisting him would only enrage him further.  Pulling her head back by her hair, he sneered into her face as she tried to maintain a placid expression.  

Bringing his mouth next to her ear he whispered “You belong to me.”

Still holding her hair, he maneuvered her into the living room and shoved her over the back of the couch.  He hiked up her skirt and she felt the cool air on her bare skin as he pulled her panties down just before she felt the burning sting of his hand as it struck her bare bottom.  She heard the zipper of his trousers and seconds later she felt the sharp pain as he plunged into her with no warning and no preparation.  She cried out before she could stop herself, tears filling her eyes as he rutted like an animal while repeating the mantra “You are mine.”

The alcohol and the rage conspired to make his already tiny endurance even shorter.  In less than a minute he grunted one last time before emptying himself inside her.  He held her hips against him for a long beat, fingers dug deep into her flesh, before withdrawing suddenly and zipping himself back up.  He looked at his wife still bent over the couch.

“Now you look like the whore that you are,” he said with disgust before stalking from the room.

*

Elizabeth sank into the hot water of the tub slowly, hissing slightly at the sting against her tender flesh.  She had bruises in the shape of fingertips on her hips and on her wrist.  She was fairly certain that her backside was bruised as well from the smack of Jared’s hand.  She sat gingerly against the back of the tub and let the warm water and bubbles surround her.  Closing her eyes she tried to calm her mind but the chaotic thoughts would not be contained.

He’s getting worse.  He was drinking more and his jealousy was growing.  She had tried to be a good wife, she really had. She just didn’t know what that term meant to Jared; it seemed his definition changed nearly every day.  She worked hard to be a gracious hostess, a gentle helpmate, a supportive friend.  She would have liked to say that she loved him but she didn’t want to lie to herself.  To be honest, she had never really loved him but had done her best to please her parents by marrying him.

Her parents had always been critical of her choices and had actually laughed at her plans for her life.   They were very old fashioned and felt strongly that her place was in the home as a devoted wife and mother.  Women, according to them, had no place out in the world without a man.  Their strong-willed and ambitious daughter was somewhat of an embarrassment to them.  They had met Jared at a dinner party and found a kindred spirit.  They took to him as the son they never had, Elizabeth being an only child.  It was almost as if they had courted him, gradually integrating him into their family.  By the time that she realized that her parents had offered her to Jared for a wife, it was too late.  The pressure they inflicted was tremendous and, as strong of will as she was, she was too young at 19 to defy them completely.  So she married a man she didn’t love to please everyone but herself.

It wasn’t that bad at first.  She had finished her degree and began working as a freelancer so that she could have a flexible schedule.  Jared was handsome enough and he liked having a pretty wife as much as he liked having a sporty car.  He was pleasant most of the time and could even be entertaining when he wanted.  Their love life was satisfying, for him at least.  Elizabeth had been a virgin when they married and, truthfully, didn’t see what all the fuss was about.  Sex was one of her duties as a wife and while it wasn’t great at least it wasn’t awful. The best thing about it was that afterwards he was usually extra nice to her for a day or so.  He didn’t seem to want it terribly often and that was fine with her.

Somewhere around her third anniversary things began to change.  Jared decided to switch careers and take a chance on being a record producer.  He had always prided himself on his musical knowledge and would critique new releases in long lectures to his wife.  He found success rather quickly but he also found increased stress.  He often came home in a bad mood and began to find fault with more and more things that Elizabeth did.  She tried to understand and be supportive, but she seemed to fail more often than she succeeded.  Jared began to blame her for all of the struggles he endured, and he let her know that she was the cause.  

His constant criticism slowly ate away at her self esteem and, before long, she began to doubt herself. She spent most of her time trying to appease her husband and less and less time being an individual.  It didn’t help that her parents always took his side in any disagreement.  Elizabeth would have never shared any of their marital issues with her parents, but Jared had no hesitance in doing so.  One night, when she was on her period and feeling awful with cramps that had her curled up in bed with a heating pad, he came in from work and wanted sex.  She said no for the first time in their marriage. She was mortified 30 minutes later when he had called her parents and they spent an hour chastising her on the speaker.  She had never felt more alone.

Her marriage began to disintegrate faster after that night and her husband’s anger began to escalate.  He was increasingly suspicious, angry, and now violent.  She did not know what she was going to do, but she did know that she was not happy.  There was an obvious way to fix the situation.  She sat there working on a plan until the water was tepid, and her toes and fingers pruned.  She climbed out of the tub, dressed in an appropriately matronly cotton gown and brushed her teeth before climbing into bed.  Hugging the edge of the king-sized mattress, she closed her eyes on her husband’s drunken snores.  Just as she dropped off to sleep her mind was invaded by the most beautiful green eyes and soft pink smile.

*

Harry was supposed to be working.  He was trying to write songs for his next album but all he had managed to do for the past two hours was doodle.  Glenne came into the room carrying two bottles of water and glanced down at the papers on the desk.  

“Who is that?  She looks familiar,” she said, looking at the face Harry had drawn over and over again.  

“Hmm? Who’s who?”

“Her.  The woman you have been drawing,” Glenne replied, pointing.

Harry was surprised to look down and see Elizabeth Ezel’s face looking back at him.  

Jeff got up from the sofa in the corner to take a bottle and have a look at the drawing.  

“Oh.  Wow.  I know who that is,” he said after a closer look. “That’s Jared Ezel’s wife, isn’t it?”

Harry just stared at the face that his mind had conjured and sent to his hands.

“H, he’s not a man to mess with.  I’m not sure he’s all that stable.”

“I’m not planning on messing with anyone.  I’ve just seen her a few times.  She seems nice.”

“She is nice,” Glenne replied. “I talked to her for quite a while at the Columbia meet and greet last week.  Did you know she’s a book editor?  She has some really funny stories about her work.”

“I’ve never been able to have a conversation with her.  The times I’ve been around her I mainly said ‘hello’ and then her husband dragged her away. I don’t think he likes me very much,” Harry said as a furrow appeared between his brows.

“He doesn’t like anyone but himself very much,” Glenne muttered.

“Well then Harry, you’re going to have to be careful.  We’re at the same table as The Ezels at the RIA banquet next week,” Jeff informed him.

Harry’s expression changed and one dimple made itself known.  

“Oh terrific,” Glenne said.

*

The Recording Industry of America banquet was a place for music professionals to see and be seen, to schmooze and network, to forge deals and introduce new talent to the industry leaders.  It was also, thought Harry, decidedly tedious. Except this year.  He had spent the evening so far trying to draw Elizabeth Ezel into conversations.   She was stunning in a simple sapphire blue dress that accentuated her trim figure and enhanced the blue of her eyes.  

She had answered most questions from the group in monosyllables as her husband talked over and around her.  Glenne drew her into a discussion about the latest best-selling book and Harry felt his heart stutter as her eyes lit up and she became animated.  He observed her for several minutes while pretending to be listening to Jared Ezel pontificating about some arcane use for a wah wah pedal.  At last he asked Elizabeth an innocuous question about her latest project and, to his dismay, she looked up at him with a hint of alarm.  She glanced quickly at her husband and saw that he was engaged in conversation with Jeff before she answered.

“I’m editing a book by a new writer.  It’s a collection of stories about a famous singer and his daughter,” her reply was just audible above the din of the room.  Her husband grunted at her and she cast her eyes back down to the table.  She seemed to shrink into herself under his displeasure.

Jeff, on receiving a glare from Glenne, sighed before offering to introduce Jared to his dad.  Jared hesitated before rising to join him but the opportunity to meet such a legend was too good to pass up.  Shooting a look at his wife he bent to whisper loudly “Behave yourself.”

Harry’s lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes narrowed as he watched the two men maneuver around tables en route to Irving.  Giving himself a little shake, he turned his attention to Elizabeth and gifted her with a lazy smile.   He felt a warmth fill him from head to toe as he met her eyes.    He stared, blatantly, for a long beat before widening his grin and leaning towards her.  The rest of the room seemed to disappear as he focused on her, he was hungry to hear her speak.

“Tell me more.”

Kiss of Death

A 13 Nights Of Halloween Story: Night Two

Prompt #31 Spooky- Kiss of Death Featuring- Alexa Bliss (guest starring Kenny Omega) Requested by @satansstrawberry Warnings: Ummm.. a little bit of a threatening Kenny Omega, mention of death.. maybe a few curse words here and there... poorly written mermaid legends because I had to rush through this so it wasn’t 15 pages long on Word. Word Count: 3500+ (another long one)

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY RANIE!! Since today is your birthday, your request is up next. I hope I lived up to the dream I had. I think this would’ve been waaaayyyy better as a book. Honestly, I could really drag this story out but it got really long oh my gosh. ANYWAY; also, since this is my present to you, your favorite over dramatic, bixsexual, anime villain is a character. Hope everyone enjoys!

Tag List:   @straight-outta-the-asylum @i-kneel-for-king-loki@geekoftv @ladym0xley @satansstrawberry @shieldlovereve @iwannadiehere@vampstampbby @shironichi @blackwidow2721 @the-shy-type@mangagirl232 @wrestingtrash @akihikothekitsune @kanupps06@kingslayers-angel @isawthesights @castielscamander @shieldsandbulletsandflips @extremelylost @thirstiswet @inamoxbrose24@reigns420 @bebbyt @nickie-amore

The smell of salt and water carried on the breeze, filling my nose and blowing through my hair. The sound of the engine motor and the waves crashing was all around us as we plowed through the open sea. I smiled, watching the curly headed man steering the speed boat, his well-tanned and toned body gleaming in the sun. He took a turn too fast and I squealed, laughing as I heard him mutter something that sounded like curses from his mouth.

“Ken,” I shouted over the noise, “Slow down, please? We don’t have to go too far from the shore.”

The motor quieted as he glided to a stop, “What if I just want to steal you away?” He teased me, “I could drive off with you in this boat to the next town over?”

I rolled my eyes. Kenny Omega and I had been flirting around with the idea of becoming a couple for months. He was a gorgeous choice for a boyfriend; strong, sharp wit, hard body. But there was always something that held us back from becoming official. Sometimes I wasn’t too keen on the idea of dating someone who’d be gone for months and weeks on end. Other times, Kenny got scared of commitment. The current issue was his ex, who had just come back from an injury. The company seemed to have a story line plotted out for them, and even though Kenny assured me they weren’t getting back together, I wasn’t willing to risk making the mistake of trusting him too much.

So here we were together, on vacation on the beach as just simple fuck buddies; still no strings attached. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was the one that wanted more for our relationship and I had been trying to keep him at bay until he gave me what I wanted. It was hard to keep my hands off him when he walked around shirtless all day.

“The next town over?” My voice was still at a shout as he turned the key in the ignition and climbed back to where I was seated. “To do what?”

Kenny reached under the bench and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and snaked his arm around my shoulders. “To get some alone time, away from the boys,” he said. “Maybe get a room where they aren’t going to hear what I want to do to you.” His eye brows wiggled after the last few words, an ornery smirk played at his lips.

“I’ll pass,” I reflected his confident look. “This girl needs to get some sun, soak up the vitamin D, drink that whole bottle of fireball.” I snatched the bottle from his hands and popped the top off. Kenny watched silently as my lips wrapped around the opening and I tipped the end up to allow the caramel colored liquid down my throat.

“That mouth,” I heard him mutter.

We floated along in the tiny boat, letting the waves rock around us. The bottle of whiskey was nearly half gone when I heard a splash from the empty waters behind me. My head spun around to see what had caused the noise; but the ocean was still. The sun glared against my shaded eyes and I tried to squint to see if I could see anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it was the whiskey, but I could’ve sworn I saw a large pink tail fin rise gently out of the water and then sink slowly back below the surface.

I jumped nearly ten feet in the air as I felt his hand slid along my bare thigh. I swung my attention back to the man across from me, only to be met with those beautiful baby blues staring at me intensely.

“What?” I looked at him over the top of my glasses. Kenny didn’t stop, instead his hand wandered north along my leg, making its way towards my bikini bottoms. I felt my shoulders slump and my heart rate quicken a little. “Ken,” I took hold of his long fingers, “Can’t it wait until tonight? I really just want to enjoy the air.”

Kenny’s curls bounced as he shook his head, “You’ve said that every day this week.” He pulled back his hand and crossed it in front of his chest out of frustration. “Then at night when we finally get back to our rooms, you don’t answer the door, you won’t answer your phone, you leave me hanging out in the hallway, hoping you’ll eventually let me in.” I swallowed, knowing I had been kind of avoiding fucking around with Kenny on this trip. It hadn’t by any means been easy but I was trying to get something through to him. “Are you just using me as a sugar daddy now, (Y/N)?” He asked throwing his arms into the question.

“Oh my God!” My jaw dropped at him even having the thought, “Kenny! No! I am not some little trick.” I paused and watched as his arms folded again, his right eyebrow cocked up, waiting for an answer. I wasn’t ready to give him one. “Can we not talk about this right now?” I took another sip of whiskey before he yanked the bottle away from me.

“No, we’re going to talk about this... right now!” Kenny’s voice began to raise and in the distance, I could see dark, grey clouds forming behind his head. “I didn’t bring you here to play on my friends’ boat and drink my whiskey.” The wind seemed to pick up and waves formed around us, Kenny took no notice.

“Then what did you bring me here for, Ken? Am I just some play thing to you?” I snapped back, I stood and walked to the front of the boat. “Take me back to the shore, there’s a storm coming.”

“No, we need to hash this out, away from distractions. There’s no storm in the forecast. A little wind won’t hurt you,” he scoffed.

Suddenly a gust pushed me a step back and Kenny was blinded by his curls, a strike of lightening flashed behind his head and thunder rumbled through our bones.

“Ken, please, take me back,” I begged.

Kenny for once agreed with me and gave me a nod before walking up to the wheel to turn the boat on. He stumbled as the waves rocked us around. We could hear the Bucks yelling for us from the shore, trying to get us to come back. He took the key and attempted to turn the ignition over. Click, click, click. “Fuck,” Kenny whispered under his breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“No fuel,” his finger tapped on the fuel gage above the wheel. “I could’ve sworn I filled up all the way this morning.”

“Now what?” I stressed and grabbed his shoulder for comfort.

Kenny turned to face me. He only locked eyes with me briefly before looking at something behind me, his cobalt blue eyes widening with fear. “Hold on!” He shouted and pulled me down against the deck before I tidal wave washed over both of us.

I did my best to hold my breath as the water rushed over me, roaring passed my ears. We both came up, sputtering for air. I could hear Kenny coughing, trying to breathe. My own lungs heaved and I looked up behind him to see another giant wave looming over us. “Ken!” I yelled, unable to make anything else come out.

Kenny looked at me, then followed my eyes. We both gasped as the sea came crashing down, washing us from the boat. My body went limp against the pressure, allowing myself to fall beneath the surface. I blinked through the water and forced my head to seek out the sky somewhere above me. I broke passed the barrier of the water, sucking in the air as it hit my face. I looked around for Kenny.

“Kenny!” I called out for him. There was no answer, but I could’ve sworn I heard a mischievous feminine giggle echo behind me. I turned quickly, just in time to see another wave crash down on me, slamming my head against a piece of debris. Everything went black, and I felt myself sink down into the abyss.

----

Soft lips, the smell of salt water, the taste of summer rain.

My eyes fluttered open from the sensory overload. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from until I regained my focus. The most beautiful face I had ever seen came into view. Her skin was soft and clear, not a single blemish or imperfection to be found. Her eyes were ice blue, cold as a winter storm, yet glowed with curiosity and eagerness. Her long blonde hair tickled my face as she looked down at me. My gaze shifted to those soft pink lips that were curved up into a smile.

“Are you okay, honey?” She asked me. My heart thudded against my chest at the sound of her voice. It was musical. “That was quite a bump you took.”

“Wh- Where am I?” I asked her.

“Safe.” Was all she said.

I sat up slightly, feeling my head spin slightly at the sudden movement.

“Take it easy, pretty girl,” she hummed. “You hit your head, just lay there for a minute while I work on your wounds.”

I did as I was told, letting her hands touch me gently, wrapping something around my arm that felt sore. I knew there was probably a cut or two on my body and it would a miracle if I didn’t have anything broken. “How bad is it?” I asked her.

“Well, I drug you out just before you washed up against those rocks, you might have actually gotten hurt beyond my repair if you had hit them.” She never looked up from her work, “I’m Alexa, by the way, what’s your name?”

“(Y/N).”

“Pretty,” her smile stunned me again; it was breath taking.

“What are you wrapping my arm with?”

“Seaweed and a balm I’ve made for my own injuries before.” She let go of my arm, “Wanna see now?”

I nodded and she carefully helped me upright. A gasped escaped my lungs, not from the sight of my injuries, or the way the seaweed looked covering my skin, but Alexa had something that wasn’t normal. “You have a tail!” I exclaimed out loud, immediately embarrassed that she heard the words come from my mouth.

Alexa giggled, “Well, duh. I’m merfolk. Where did you think I came from, the sky?”

“I don’t know, you’re pretty enough to be an angel,” I muttered then clapped my hand over my mouth.

Now it was time for Alexa to blush. She leaned in, incredibly close to me, her lips just inches from mine. “You think I’m pretty?” She asked.

I swallowed and nodded. Alexa drug her lower lip between her teeth, “You’re a different kind of human female, most of them don’t think I’m pretty.” She frowned and furrowed her brows, “Only men think I’m pretty.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s a curse. It has to do with how men objectify women, my mother explained it to me once, but I don’t tend to listen to the lessons we are taught.” She sighed and placed her elbows on her tail and propped her head onto her palm. “Lessons are boring though.”

My gaze wandered her tail. It was bright pink, matching the tips of her blonde hair. Her pink fin was the shape of a ‘V’ and was thick like a fish’s tail. “Your tail is so pretty.” I told her, “Can I touch it?” She smiled and nodded gleefully. Reaching out, I felt the scales along the palm of my hand, they were rough, yet slick from the water.

Alexa’s soft, small hand reached against my thigh, “I like your legs. I used to think I wanted legs too.” My skin tingled against her touch, “but I like swimming. Can’t swim very well with legs, can you?” We locked eyes and my heart stopped, Alexa must have noticed. “You really think I’m pretty?”

I nodded, “You’re gorgeous.”

Her smile widened, “Can I ask you something then?” Again, all I could do was nod. “Do you find yourself attracted to other females of your species?”

My face went red and I turned away, “Um, well, yeah. I actually like both boys and girls.”

The gears were turning in Alexa’s head, “That actually explains a lot.” She leaned in close to me and sniffed the air, “You smell delicious, has anyone ever told you that?”

“(Y/N)!” A familiar voice forced me from the thought of kissing her.

“Kenny?” I muttered in confusion, looking around for him.

“What’s a Kenny?” Alexa said looking towards the direction his voice was coming from.

I stood, carefully, pushing passed the dizzy spell. “Kenny?” I called out to him.

There was a sound of feet pounding in the sand and Omega came flying around the corner. His curly, two-toned head was still soaked from water, and the swim trunks he had worn was torn in different places. His blue eyes found mine.

“(Y/N)! Oh my god! You’re okay.” He ran towards me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

The impact of him rocked me, “Ouch.” I muttered.

“Is this your mate?” Alexa asked. She had slipped back into the water, concealing her lower half.

Kenny finally took notice to her. I saw him swallow, obviously taking note of her beauty. “Not quite,” He smiled at her, “Did you save my friend?”

Alexa furrowed her brow, but nodded, “I did.” Looking at me, “I am confused, the male embraces you like a lover but he calls you friend?”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged, “It’s complicated.”

Now it was Kenny’s turn to roll his eyes, “Shower sex is complicated. We are not complicated.” He gestured between us, then moved closer to Alexa, “Name’s Omega, Kenny Omega.” He extend his hand.

“Nice to meet you Omega Kenny Omega.” She flashed him a smile, “Do you think I’m pretty too?”

My heart broke a little, feeling the jealousy boil inside of me. I was starting to feel like a third wheel.

Kenny’s boyish grin turned devilish, “It’s just Kenny and I do think you’re gorgeous. What’s a girl like you doing out here all her lonesome?”

“I was hungry, I came looking for something to eat, then I found you two on the boat.” Alexa explained.

“You saw us on the boat?” I asked, my mind flashed back to the pink fin I had seen earlier that had disappeared in the ocean before Kenny started yelling at me.

She nodded, “I did, you were both arguing.”

“That was just a misunderstanding,” Kenny interjected. “We’re all friends here, right (Y/N)?” He gave me a look.

“Sure, just friends.” I growled back at him, seething. How dare he try and force himself on me and give me shit for not surrendering to him, then try and pick this poor creature up!

“You’ve upset her,” Alexa’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked to see her staring at me, she looked as though she was reading my mind. “I am, I can communicate through thoughts.”

“Whoa!” I gasped, my head spinning from the intrusion.

“Sorry, it’s probably a little much to begin with, but I’m trying to understand you and this man.” Her silky voice echoed in my mind, “Come here.” She told me aloud, holding her hand out for me.

I rose, unsure as to why I listened and walked towards the water. My legs stopped short of the water line and I gently laid my hand in hers. “What’s going on?” Kenny asked us. We ignored him as Alexa closed her eyes, I watched scenes play in front of my eyes. They were memories of Kenny and I, our friendship, the two of us making love, arguing over Kota, arguing over where we stood with each other, arguing over love making; I felt the anger fresh from the flood of previous encounters. Things had definitely been getting worse between Omega and I, and having Alexa sort through it gave me a new perspective on everything.

There was an animalistic noise that came from Alexa’s throat, something I had never heard before and she released my hand. “You are not a very nice man.” She looked at Kenny, “You toy with her emotions, use her for sex, that’s not right.” Her blue eyes were completely iced over. “Now I don’t feel bad for what comes next.”

Her lips turned up into a smile, parting a little to reveal her teeth that had morphed into what resembled the jaws of a shark. Kenny’s eyes widened in terror and I heard a scream that sounded like mine but I was too numb to know if the sound had actually come from my own throat. Alexa’s skin darkened from its fair color to a greyish and sickly pigment. I stumbled backwards, falling onto my butt, completely terrified of the scene before me.

She lunged out and took hold of Kenny’s locks with her hands that had turned into claws with black nails. They pulled his face to focus on her, and I watched as her lips met his. Kenny’s panic went to a look of pure bliss and he kissed her back. He leaned into her and she began to fall back into the water, guiding him to her.

“Kenny! NO!” I screamed and scrambled to the water’s edge.

I was too late and was forced to watch Kenny fall into the water. Another scream came from my lungs, calling his name as I tried to reach for his foot. They disappeared below the surface of the water, the darkness engulfed their bodies until I could no longer see their shapes in front of me. I tossed away all my sanity and jumped in after them into the deep.

Ignoring the cold, salty water around me, I pushed myself as far as I could. My feet kicking, arms pushing through the nothingness as I continued my decent. I could feel my lungs strain, knowing my limit was reached and I needed to turn to go back up for air.

A hand took hold of my wrist before I could make another move, forcing me back up to the surface. A pink tail flashed in my vision, and I began to struggle to get away from my rescuer. My mouth opened to scream but it was muffled by the sea water that surrounded me.

When we broke the surface, Alexa hauled me onto the beach I had just watched Kenny get dragged from. I sputtered and coughed from the sudden rush of air hitting my lungs.

“Why?” I whispered in a cry.

“He hurt you.” Alexa’s voice was gentle as she spoke. “So I hurt him.”

“You didn’t just hurt him, did you?” I turned to see her still in the water, her features had returned to normal.

“Do you know why men think I’m pretty? I’m not actually. I’m assuming before I pulled him in, you saw my true face.”

I nodded, “What are you?”

“I told you I’m a mermaid; a siren.” Her tail flicked out of the water as if to remind me. “Men think we are beautiful, and we feed on their souls.”

My heart stopped completely, “Their souls? You eat them?” Her smile was the only response I got. I swallowed hard, nervous to ask anything else. “How?”

She chewed her lip, “I can’t describe it.” Alexa leaned in close, “Kenny was a little different from how I normally do it. I took him more out of rage than out of hunger.”

“What’s the difference? He’s still dead.” My words dripped with anger and sarcasm. Yet, something inside of me was glad he was gone.

Alexa seemed to hesitate. Her tongue ran across her lip quickly, “I could show you.”

“Show me? How?”

In that instant, we locked eyes. My lungs stopped working by the hypnotizing look she gave me. “Come,” her voice commanded me in the most melodic tone. I swore there was the sound of an orchestra moving around the sea as I rose and moved towards her. Each step was against my will until I reached the water line.

“Jump in with me, (Y/N).”

The way she said my name had my heart fluttering in my chest. I took a hesitant step towards the water. Don’t do it, a voice whispered in my head. I wanted to listen to it, but she was humming the most beautiful tune and it called to me. My foot reached out, my weight shifted, and I fell into the drink.

I could feel something inside of me screaming in terror, knowing I was walking right into whatever trap she had ready for me. My body fell and I watched as my breath escaped in bubbles from my lips. Pain filled my lungs but my arms would not work, I couldn’t swim back for air. A second time I was left drowning in the dark ocean, the light above my head slowly fading.

Light, gentle hands touched my face, the humming in my ears got louder, and Alexa came back into my view. She held me still, stopping me from falling deeper. Shock spread through me as her eyes turned from blue to grey. I felt her lips press mine. It took me a minute to truly accept her kisses, but with every little flick of her tongue, a rush of air hit my lungs. It encouraged me to lock into an embrace with her, allowing her arms to wrap around my shoulders. Accepting her gave me freedom to touch her, hold her hips just above where the scales started on her tail. Her body was soft and pressed against me.

Alexa pulled back and looked at me, I pushed myself towards her, need the air. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

Her words stopped my heart. I watched as her mouth opened and I felt something pour from my very essence into her. There was a flash of white light and she pulled me close. Her mouth had transformed back into the terrifying features I had seen before when she drug Kenny to the depths. I tried to gasp but my throat choked on the salt water.

“WHY?” I pleaded in my thoughts, struggling to keep myself conscious.

Alexa’s true form had completely taken over her. Her hands were webbed, she had gills on her neck. Her hair was still it’s platinum color but the tips had turned from pink to grey, matching her skin and tail. “I really could’ve liked you, maybe become your friend. I love your smile, your legs, and I would love to play with you on the surface, maybe teach you how to swim.” Her voice resounded through my head. “But the one lesson I did pay attention to was this; never play with your food.”

“I Wrote Your Name in My Heart” (11/?), olicity s5 AU fic

Rating: M

Warnings: graphic descriptions (violence & physical/psychological torture), discussions of rape but no actual rape), attempted suicide

Summary: One cold night in December, a group of men kidnap Oliver right in front of Felicity. They leave behind no ransom or demands, no hints to his fate, and no clues to follow. As the new year starts, the team begins to lose hope that they will ever be able to save the Green Arrow; all except Felicity, because Felicity just got Oliver back, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to lose him again. Her hope pays off in the end…but when they finally find Oliver, they find a broken man they barely recognize. Felicity vows to do whatever it takes to make the man she loves whole again. Started off as a future fic but is now technically alternate canon/AU (takes places starting in early December 2016).

AN: My first long multi-chapter story in the Arrow-verse. Not sure how many chapters it’ll be. Expect a ton of angst, supportive Olicity, some flashbacks, and a bit of hope.

(Previous Chapters:  Prologue, Chapter1, Chapter2, Chapter3, Chapter4, Chapter5, Chapter6, Chapter7, Chapter8, Chapter9)

Tagging: @hope-for-olicity@memcjo@miriam1779@pleasantfanandstudent @laksagirl

If anyone wants to be tagged/untagged please let me know. :)

CHAPTER WARNINGS: This is a very heavy chapter. It deals with issues of torture, including: starvation, sensory deprivation, drug testing, shaming, and physical and emotional abuse. It also includes a sappy, brief, mildly explicit sex scene.

AN: Thank you so much to all my amazing readers, especially those leaving such wonderful and uplifting comments. I appreciate you all so much! <3 Apologies, as always, for the length between updates.

For those who've asked, I fully intend to complete this story, so please don't worry about me leaving it unfinished. :)

I Wrote Your Name in My Heart <– Chapter Ten: There’s a Power in Your Name –>

One cold night, December 2016

Oliver pants heavily, his body trembling above hers. Felicity runs a soothing hand along his upper back, and he shivers before leaning down and kissing her. She whimpers into his mouth, running her fingers through his hair lightly. When he pulls away for air, he stares down at her in wonder, unable to keep his tears from falling any longer.

“I’ve missed you, Felicity. God, I’ve missed you so much,” Oliver gasps.

Felicity smiles up at him. “Me, too,” she whispers, gripping his shoulders tightly as he starts to move inside her again. “Me, too, Oliver. Oh, god.”

“I love you,” Oliver moans, thrusting harder, and she throws her head back against the pillow, holding onto him even tighter.

“I love you, too,” she replies, groaning quietly when he stills his movements. He brushes a lock of hair away from her face, then uses his fingertips to wipe away her tears. “Oliver, I…I don’t want to lose you again. Not ever,” she sobs, and Oliver quiets her with a kiss.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers against her lips. He kisses his way along her cheek, down the side of her neck, then back up to the spot beneath her ear that she likes so much. She gasps under his touch, crying softly now. Oliver kisses her cheek once more, and his tears mix with hers as he soothes her. “Fe-LI-ci-ty,” he sighs, rubbing his nose against hers. “I’m right here, honey. I’m not going anywhere, not ever.”

“Oliver.”

“Felicity.”

When they finally come down, Oliver collapses onto his back, pulling her against his side.

He falls asleep with her head resting over his heart….

...and he wakes to the feel of her being ripped from his arms.

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

It only takes one man to hold Felicity back, but it takes three men to keep Oliver from her.

She struggles hard against her captor, but she’s no match for him. She’s naked, and the sight of some stranger with his arms wrapped around her body makes Oliver see red. He lunges, calling out for her, and he almost gets away, but then a fourth man steps in, wrapping his arms around Oliver’s bare torso.

“Let her go,” Oliver growls, fighting against his captors.

“Come with us quietly, and we will,” the man holding Felicity responds.

Oliver looks at her, watching her shake her head as she struggles against the man’s strong grip.

“No, Oliver, don’t-”

“Quiet!” the man holding her shouts, and he squeezes her tighter. Felicity gasps, her hands clawing uselessly at the man’s arms.

“Felicity!” Oliver screams, and he struggles once more but it’s no use; there are too many of them.

“Come with us quietly, Oliver Queen, and we will let her go,” the man says again. He squeezes her even tighter for emphasis, and Felicity fights weakly against him, her eyes full of fear and pain.

There’s no choice to make.

“Okay,” Oliver agrees, shoulders slumping with defeat. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

“ No,” Felicity gasps, tears rising in her eyes as she struggles to breathe. “No, Oliver. Please.”

“I told you to stop talking!” her captor shouts, and before Oliver can blink the man pulls a syringe out of one of his pockets and stabs her in the neck.

“NO!” Oliver shouts. “FELICITY!”

The man loosens his grip on her and she crumbles to the ground on the other side of their bed. Oliver shouts her name over and over, fighting against his captors, and he manages to throw two of them off and make it three steps before one of them shoves a syringe into his neck. Oliver continues to struggle even as the room begins to spin around him.

“Please,” Oliver begs. “Please, just tell me she’s okay.”

He shrugs off another man, then makes it two more steps before another syringe ends up in his shoulder. He falls limp in his remaining captor’s arms, and the man shoves him violently to the ground. Oliver drags himself across the floor, fighting desperately against the drugs flooding into his bloodstream.

He needs to see her; he needs to know that she’s okay.

He makes it to the other side of the bed just as two men throw themselves onto his back.

And then he sees her: prone and scared but still conscious, one hand reaching out to him.

“I’m okay,” she tells him, her speech slurring as the drugs begin to take effect. “I’m all right. Oliver.”

“Get him out of here,” the man standing over Felicity orders, and Oliver reaches out to her before they can stop him. His fingertips brush hers, and he tries to say something, but as the double dose of tranquilizers pulls him under, he can’t find the strength.

“I’ll find you, Oliver,” he hears her say as the room fades to black around him. “I promise. I’ll find you.”

Oliver passes out with his fingers wrapped tightly around hers.

…

……

...

As the world goes dark around her, Felicity hears the man above her tell the others to be careful.

“The boss wants him alive...but soon enough he’ll wish he was dead.”

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

When Felicity wakes an hour later - her head pounding and her stomach roiling - she finds herself back in bed wrapped up in her blankets.

Oliver is gone.

(read the rest on AO3)

astryl-wondering

and he shouts at Cludstrum to stop his program from causing harm and with a sword in hand and says "I am Cludstrum, I have been sent here by my masters to kill you and he bites and eats dirt and sand from the barren dessert that he is in a little demon who is worshiping his God turned the area and stained with blood like the color of grass He thirstily asks "For how long must I live in this barren land? Clay penises A furry armchair seat with a maw in its backside, which is interpreted as a fertility symbol since birth because he wakes up on the forest floor next to a well he had fallen into previously in a Yinnie and Turtle dance the following ngiht: Pledge for the Succubi Incubi Party, Please vote for us, tomorrow! and an alarm will sound warning about a hostile if it detects an aggressive action meaning that stress levels are at maximum and performance is at minimum for vital functions based on line of sight from anyone in those hexes and how noisy it would be Due to exhaustion and hunger priority is given to rest and hunger and failure, he looks up and to his surprise Yinnie and Turtle smile down on him so many times before, he bows down on one knee and puts a palm across his heart he says "Why have you chosen this weakling to grace him with your presence? " "What do you want me to do? but other than that, it is just him and the former demons since astryl dos not know the demon realm sent the computer virus He is quite surprised the two coudl change his mind so quickly and delusion Was it peer pressure? or was it change he wanted? or did he want to slowly perfect himself from the inside out? and die, but another strong memory which is contradicted by the other makes him forget what to do Gorram it! along with a news summary from before the blackout with an extremely hot wind pushing large volumes of sand all over 's code that contain his priorities, changing them around to an unknown end but that's just a name that has been given to them These things leave some bits completely alone no matter how much they are prodded to devour them and astryl is experiencing some sort or identity escesthesia That was just a fancy word for he changes his mind a lot through the script, digit It's a handle but no profile can be pulled up to tell what species they are or anything really It is immensely difficult to communicate or perform any task what so ever flat vector Cludstrom confirms that this the same Mr digit who clued him on the codex You could ask the contacts, but they would mostly say no because astryl would seem out of character to them but if he has the directions to mr digit from before, finding it again should be no problem In that order but then start working agian in 5 minutes and then will 'discover' the virus and then after that, it is game over Sending you back to the ui at one point but then interupted by the virus and allow you to continue the cycle of events The countdown reads 7 hours and 4 min Gorram light rain is falling now, you need to get mr since cludstrom seems to shy away from social interacions "That's what astryl is for" listed before but he fears the rain might wash them away The sun was blocked to such an end affect that the crops inside were spore like and minature like a strand of hair Astryl's soul is unageing, that much is true Only feeble minded mortal-like need for such things You're still very much afraid of what the whole sandbox reality push is to you the other bits like the moldy vikes and dirty calendars just crumble in his hands and excrete other things but not before cloaking himself in moldy flyers But before all this can be done there is an issue of social interaction "You need to get mr digit to start fixing the communications lines Me and you just ain't on the same platform darlin'" What a strange word edible is Social interaction cannot always be verbal speech But most objects have a quality that make them a higher or lower quality most objects are concieved from the fungal mold that grows into them Like bread his hands into Too much technology or use and they overload crashing around him The mite ink clogs things up and mess something aflated Usually the tourch works by exothermic oxidation but it uses too much fuel and other elements that are very rare and hard to find that has water so he would not die from too much dryness but it may have some element unknown to him that is toxic or uneeded by the body until he become too angry to do anything but this will take him a very long time A shadow comes over him Is it from the monoliths towering over his head? since it only reacts when he already captures and immobilizes in with his mercy gloves But something worse happens some kind of colony its called Jansenns Shpawn the town of magos toktek a camp called the hym camp A place to rest in the desert is a cave that belongs to a large worm named Robert you realize have gotten yourself easily lost you begin to search for some kind of hole or crevasse that you can use as shelter disover the entrance to robert the digger and his wife lucys hiding place breaks his nosed which breaks the rotten wood of roberts house Snap goes the wooden beam and then smashing nose waits for his tormentor to awaken and find him just as helpless in the dark Edgar and the crystal's in his eye would hurt if it was not for some strange numbing quality of this bosom "Jev! Still dizzy from concussion astryl turns toward the name of his dead flutemate "Edgar? his sadness to a fine point "Here" Taking out the battery that makes the most noise Aries places it on the ground "feel better? silence is not enough, as always you have to comply with this fool's inept rules "better "do you wanna help me? bruising his swollen cheek "with what! "I need to get all the power crystals out of the weird machines that are blinky and make noise finding another dead thing to play with "ok I will find the rest of the machines and congregate them in this are " Edgar responds enthusiastically to a dead night and wrong scent The dunes were orange not white his situation over and over He can't quite place it but every instinct he has is that something here is terribly wrong? with great care as if the stone ground would shatter to pieces below him, he touchs his pain throbing nose to taste the wetness, carefully putting on his headache one handed It hurt to smile bile in the bushes as his brown eyes glare at the vile magos has instructed him, he raises his shaking arm to shoot the flesh ichor at filth lying to the ratling bastards that outnumber him 4: 1 about how he doesn't have access to any water for them under the same rock as last night watching the gray monsters feast on robert and his wife the light of a crimson sun from his eyes as he and the giant metal man stare at a machine that makes noise and lights up colors an undercurrent of hostility in the magos' asinsault "impossible, " he finishes lamely at his sunburn as he carries the power source from the noisy box back to his waiting overseer the magos' orders via the ad mech's encrypted ECT signal "Found primary site Have exhumed items to feel secure with the blanket tossed over his shoulders by his eccentric benefactor greater intellect with higher grade nutrients and accelerate his evolution so that he may become a cog in the xeno's machine that will transcend humanity the flat scorched earth lit by a ghastly blue sun to join his tribe out the failing noise bleed from the site They will drown in waves of static soon Edgar climbs the ridged gypsum dunes with surprising agility down on you viciously Bloodying your lip, filling your mouth with an unwelcoming copper taste inordinate the multicolored sun pellets at the nearby mutants, as he turns to look the Magos' on his vox across the great landscape expecting to see the blue of an oasis or the green of vegetation his pale hide as he lays on the top of his dwelling place Gideon is nothing more now than another crackling, charred skeleton language parameters, Truth Speak binary for highpoint perches in the formation that would grant him maximum line of sight the men of an approaching dust storm so they may batten down the hatches of the complex and looting the corpses of fallen travelers on the trade route an increasing awareness of the charlatan that the magos has honed him into on a hummus and levantine flatbread sandwich If he didn't know any better, he'd swear that it had oasis juice squeezed into it on his ex-wife's guts as he tears them from her stomach and uses them to choke her to death swarms of rabid ratlings to sabotage large scale attacks solely on the gruel-like food rations and brown water that pass for Of content as the machine slave of a multicolored abomination an eternity in a sensory deprivation tank and becoming One with the emperors loving pulse Kludstrm schematic spending an eternity in a sensory deprivation tank and becoming One with the emperors loving pulse the culprit's DNA to previous crimes an old militia classic as his Depends, haphazardly rigged with explosives, obliterate the terrorist hiding behind before the advancing night, crimsons, purples, and violets flooding the skies in the blue dusk with only a single lamp post for company ever so slightly as multiple systems fail on what the ironmen believe to be an terrorist attack with a million shades of red and orange as the magos' firebomb takes hold furrowing her brow on the front of the magos' robes' deep green field Again, reality splits By the end of the sixth rotation, you're in dire need of a break, but fortunately you've gotten good at sideways thinking on your mental feet, The arrival of the Null Rats has altered far too much and the shadows have noticed you wandering this path

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Rain pelted the windshield as Griffin sped through traffic, weaving the van between other vehicles as best as he could. The roads were slick and everyone around them moved at an infuriatingly slow speed. Slamming the heel of his palm down on the horn, Griffin growled obscenities at the taxis that blocked his way, and crossed the double yellow to go around them.

“We’re not going to make it,” Nikki whispered. Her words cracked in the air, fragile and devastated.

“Don’t say that,” he said, glancing sidelong at her. “We’ll get there.” He yanked the wheel into a hard right, cutting off a UPS truck, and floored the gas.

“She was…” Nikki swallowed. “She already…”

“Hey, look at me,” Griffin stopped her. “You can’t give up yet, okay? Don’t give up on your friend.”

Nikki couldn’t answer. Words, at that moment, were vastly impossible to form.

“Nikki?” He urged. “You with me?”

She forced her muscles out of their temporary paralysis, and nodded her head slowly.

Griffin made another wide turn and halfway down the block Nikki spotted the white stone front of Kaelin’s apartment.

“There!” She exclaimed, pointing to the building.

Griffin stomped on the brakes, skidding to a halt at the curb. Wrenching her seat belt off, Nikki was leaping out of the van before it even came to a full stop. Her feet slipped on the wet sidewalk, but she caught her balance and kept running.

“Nikki, wait!” Griffin shouted, rushing out of the van after her.

She bolted into the building, the soles of her Nikes squeaking on tile, and went straight for the elevators. Caution tape blocked the doors and a bright yellow sign read Elevators closed due to maintenance. Nikki wanted to scream. Kaelin lived on the tenth floor of her building.

Nikki ran to the entrance to the stairwell, flung open the heavy metal door and dashed up the flights of steps with Griffin behind her. Her legs were still weak from her near fainting spell at Amsterdam’s, and she started tripping by the time they reached the fifth floor. Hauling herself up by the banister, she used momentum to get her up the last few flights to the tenth floor. Without looking back to see if Griffin was close, she shoved open the door and sprinted down the hall towards Kaelin’s apartment.

She twisted and yanked at the brass doorknob but it was dead bolted. “Kaelin?” She screamed, clawing at the wood door jam.

Griffin’s heavy foot falls were right behind her and he called, “Do you have a key?”

She shook her head. “It’s at home,” she gasped.

“Alright, hold on,” he said, gesturing for her to step away.

Moving to the side, she watched as he squared himself in front of the door and reared back, smashing his boot into the weakest part of the door. The frame cracked, but the deadbolt held, and he had to kick at it twice more. With an explosion of splinters and paint chips, the door gave way and he stumbled inside, colliding with a table. Nikki jumped around him, rushing into the apartment with Kaelin’s name catapulting from her throat.

Her friend’s contorted body lay face down, unmoving and grotesquely broken, in an amoebic pool of dark crimson.

Nikki let out a fractured gasp and ran to Kaelin. Falling to her knees by her side, the carpet made a nauseating wet squishing noise, and Nikki felt her friend’s blood soak into the legs of her jeans.

Kaelin’s matted hair stuck to her face, and with shaking fingers Nikki pulled the clumped strands away to reveal her beaten profile. Her bruised cheek and bent nose were streaked with more vivid red, and long, deep gashes trailed down her jaw and neck. Her swollen right eye was crusted over in dried blood, gluing her eyelashes shut.

“Kaelin?” Nikki said, running her hand over her friend’s cut forehead. “Oh God, Kaelin?”

Nikki placed two fingers at Kaelin’s neck, under a sticky patch by her jaw, and waited. The miraculous tiny flutter of a pulse made Nikki cry out.

“She’s alive!” She called over her shoulder. Griffin was already on the phone to nine-one-one, requesting an ambulance.

Leaning closer, she listened to Kaelin’s shallow breathing, stroking her cheek with the back of her knuckles. Nikki could taste copper, but she didn’t move away as she whispered, “Kaelin, can you hear me?”

Her eyes drifted to the stained carpet, where one of Kaelin’s bobby pins had gotten tangled in the fibers.

“Please, Kaelin, you have to stay with me, okay? You can’t go anywhere… You have to stay with me.” Her whispers turned into heavy sobs as she raked her fingers through Kaelin’s damp hair. “You can’t leave me… Please… Please don’t leave me Kaelin. I need you. I need my best friend.”

She heard Griffin behind her; felt him kneel next to her and hold her shoulders gently. His muffled voice bounced inside of her skull, never quite taking root.

“The ambulance is on its way…” She heard him say.

“Please don’t go,” Nikki croaked. “Please… Please, don’t…”

* * *

Quicksand.

Nikki felt as if she was drowning in quicksand.

Trapped, heavy, slowly being taken under.

Movement only made it worse. If she moved, she slipped down further, suffocating more. So she did the only thing she could. She sat and struggled to breathe.

Every so often a shadow would cross into her eye line but she would only guess at what it was; a foot from a nurse or patient walking across the glossy tile floor, a wheel from a gurney or hospital issue wheelchair, an IV pole being dragged by someone who either needed it or was trying to get rid of it. She could hear people talking, machines beeping, and chairs moving but after a while it all became a dull hum that encased her, just like the quicksand.

She kept breathing.

Something shifted to her left, bumping into her elbow. The touch reverberated through her, shaking loose the white noise until it separated into discernible sounds again. She flinched at the sudden sensory overload, blinking to clear her vision.

She lifted her head, stretching her stiff neck as she turned to see Griffin, for what felt like the first time in hours.

His eyes were closed, cast in shadow by his dark brows knitted together in a deep scowl. Chin tucked and arms folded tightly across his chest, he looked as if he was trying to sleep, but the hard lines of tension in his body betrayed just how awake he really was. Several empty paper coffee cups were stacked next to him on one of the waiting room tables, and next to his collection was one full cup of cold black coffee.

The plastic chair squeaked as he shifted again, and he huffed a short sigh before settling back.

Nikki opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a gritty noise that scratched her throat. That was all it took.

Griffin’s eyelids flew open and his head snapped up to look at her.

“Hey,” he said with a soft voice. “You alright?”

Her throat clicked drily. “What time is it?” She whispered.

He glanced at the clock above the nurses’ station. “About nine thirty.”

“At night?”

Griffin nodded, frowning as he scanned her face. “How do you feel?”

“I…” She went to rub the bridge of her nose, but stopped short, staring at her hand.

It was caked in dried blood all the way to her wrist. The creases in her palm were darker, like a crude map drawn in mud. She blinked at the thick crust under her nails, now intensely aware of how it itched and flaked off like rust. Her jeans were soaked through with blood that glued the fabric to her shins, and the jacket she’d borrowed from Lisa was smeared with the same stains.

It was all Kaelin’s blood.

The quicksand flooded back, pressing in on her chest. Her mouth fell open as she tried to inhale.

“I… I,” she stuttered, staring down at herself in horror.

Griffin’s chair scraped against the floor as he leapt up and moved in front of her.

His hand was gentle on her bicep, guiding her up from her seat. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, leading her down a hallway.

Pushing open a marked door, he eased her inside and walked her to the row of sinks on the opposite wall. Glancing around, he made sure the restroom was empty for privacy’s sake as much as safety, before choosing the sink closest to the stalls.

He looked down at Nikki, about to ask if she was okay. The words died on his tongue. Eyes wide with panic, she stared out at nothing. All the color drained from her face, leaving her seemingly frail.

“Nikki?” He ducked his head, trying to catch her gaze. “Hey, you still with me?”

When she didn’t respond, he reached up, brushing her cheek with the back of his knuckles. She was shockingly cold, and he worried she would faint.

“Alright, um… I’m just gonna clean you up, okay?” He said, searching her face and finding no recognition at all.

He pushed the sleeves of her jacket up to her elbows, folding them back so they wouldn’t slip down while he scrubbed. Twisting the knob on the faucet, he tested the water temperature before easing her hands under the tap and reached over for the soap.

He massaged her right hand first, working the soap into a thick lather. The white suds quickly turned pink, and then bright red, and he had to rinse and repeat several times before her skin was back to its natural fairness. He gently edged his thumbnail under her finger nails, ridding them of the caked blood. As he washed her, he talked, hoping it would rouse her out of her shock.

“Nikki… I know that you’re scared right now and you have every right to be. It’s okay to be scared,” he glanced up, staring at her profile. “But you’re brave too. Braver than you’ve been giving yourself credit for.” He looked back down at her hands, at the water rushing over both their fingers. “I wish there was something I could say…Something that would make everything alright…” He swallowed thickly. “But I know there aren’t any words I could say that would take this pain from you. I just need you to stick with me. Okay? You’ve gotta hold on, you can’t let this break you.”

She seemed so small next to him, so fragile in that moment it made him ache.

“Nikki…”

“My shirt,” she whispered. It was so soft he thought he’d imagined it.

Griffin blinked. “What?”

“There’s blood… on my shirt,” she said. “And Lisa’s jacket too.”

“Oh.” He glanced down at her tarnished clothes. “I’ll get you something to change into,” he said, pulling a fistful of paper towels out of the dispenser and blotting her arms and hands dry. Tossing them in the trash, he turned back to her and said, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Hurrying into the hallway, he found a supply rack stacked with sets of green scrubs. He rifled through them, finding what he guessed to be the correct pants size, but the only shirts available were a men’s large. Given the circumstances, however, he didn’t think she would mind.

He ducked back into the bathroom and strode to her side, holding the new clothes for her. “The top’s kind of big,” he said apologetically. “But these should do for now.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Why don’t you get changed in there,” he said, gesturing towards one of the stalls. “You can hand me your clothes when you’re done, and I’ll take care of them.”

She nodded, taking the shirt from him and stepping into the stall, shutting the door behind her. Griffin leaned against the counter top with his back to the mirrors. Fabric rustled behind the divider and Lisa’s jacket was hung over the door, soon followed by Nikki’s tee shirt. He pulled them down and wrapped them into a tight ball, keeping the blood stains hidden. Her jeans were next. A few seconds later he heard the lock click and the door opened.

She looked even smaller in the oversized shirt- like a child playing dress up.

He watched her a moment. “How do you feel?”

Nikki tugged at the draw string of her borrowed pants. “Okay,” she whispered.

He waited. “Do you want to go back to the waiting room?”

She nodded and the collar of the mint green shirt slid nearly to her shoulder. Moving towards the door, he stayed close to her as they made their way through the corridor. Several nurses eyed her outfit, but said nothing as they passed them. They had just made it back to their seats when an older male doctor in a full set of scrubs and white coat came out from behind the in-take desk, holding a chart.

“Kaelin Nickels’ family?” He asked, glancing between them.

“That’s us,” Griffin said with jerk of his head.

The doctor pulled a chair over and sat in front of them, laying the chart in his lap. “I’m Doctor Katz. I’m one of the surgeons who helped to operate on Miss Nickels,” he said.

Griffin pressed his forearms into the tops of his thighs. “How is she doing?”

“She’s stabilized right now, but I’m afraid we won’t know the extent of the damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned at the doctor’s tone, noting how the word until sounded more like if.

“When will that be?” Griffin asked.

Doctor Katz slotted his fingers together, gripping them in front of him. “Her injuries were incredibly severe,” he explained. “She suffered a serious concussion, as well as several broken bones, including her femur and two of her vertebrae, and damage to her right kidney and small intestine. We were able to stop the internal bleeding and reset her broken bones, but you have to understand…” He paused, sorrow tightening the skin around his eyes. “Even though we’ve done the best we can, there’s still a chance she may not make it. Her body was put through a great ordeal. She’s young and healthy, and that will work in her favor but after an attack like this…” he trailed off, giving Griffin a weighted stare.

“What can we do?”

“My advice is to go home and get some rest,” Doctor Katz said, standing up. “We’ll call you if there’s any change in her condition.”

Griffin gave him a firm nod and watched as the doctor walked back to the nurses’ station to drop of Kaelin’s chart. Exhaustion weighed Griffin down and he closed his eyes, letting his head dip forward as he took a deep breath. He started to turn to Nikki, but before he could, he felt her bolt from her chair, and his head jerked up in time to see her running for the Emergency Room exit.

“Nikki!” He called, jumping from his seat and rushing after her. “Nikki, wait!”

The hydraulic doors hissed as they opened, and she sprinted out to the ambulance bay, vaguely noticing the wet concrete. Turning the corner, she nearly collided with a dark haired man in a tailored linen suit, his sky blue eyes locking with hers.

“Excuse me,” she muttered, ducking out of his way.

Thunder growled a warning as she strode away from the building in long strides, sucking air deep into her lungs.

“Nik, hold on!” Griffin ran up behind her. “Wait, where are you going?” He grabbed at her elbow, only to have her contort in his grip and smack him away.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped and turned, hurrying towards the parking lot.

Confused, Griffin staggered back. “Nikki, Kaelin’s going to be okay. I know what the doctor said sounded bad but-”

She pulled her hair back from her face, staring up as lightning back lit the clouds and surrounding buildings. “This isn’t fair,” she said.

Griffin moved closer. “What?”

Nikki spun on her heel to face him. “She should have never gotten hurt,” she yelled. “We should have protected her.”

“Nikki, we didn’t know they would do this,” he said, keeping his tone even. “We didn’t know they’d go after Kaelin.”

“No, but we should have. You should have.” She jabbed her finger at him. “You’ve been at this shit for how long? You should have known they would go after her.”

He scowled. “So now this is my fault?”

“You know this world, Griffin! I don’t!” She screamed over a boom of shuddering thunder. “You should have seen this coming!”

Clenching his jaw, he glared at her. “Look, I know you’re upset, but I didn’t do this to Kaelin.” Another roll of thunder echoed around them. “You want to get angry at someone? You get angry at the bitch that did this to your friend.”

“That bitch wouldn’t have even known about her if it weren’t for you,” Nikki shouted. “You dragged me into this, and now people I care about are getting hurt!”

“So I’m to blame?” Griffin tossed back. “I’m responsible for their actions, is that it?”

“You did this,” Nikki yelled, pointing at him. “You could have just left me alone! Then none of this would have happened!”

The thunder that warned of precipitation made good on its promise, and heavy rain tumbled from the sky.

“They would have killed you,” Griffin bellowed. “I saved your life!”

“Exactly!” She screamed. “And look at all the good that’s done!” She turned, striding away from him.

Bewildered, he gaped at her. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” She whipped around, facing him again. “This is your fault!” She shoved at his chest, pushing him back. “You should have just let me die!”

Griffin’s feet stuck to the ground as he stared. She came at him again, throwing her fists into his torso.

“You should have let me die!” Rain poured down her face as she screamed.

Grief knotted his insides so badly he felt sick. “Nikki-” He murmured, thunder drowning him out.

She hit him again and he gripped her wrists, keeping her still. A furious shriek exploded out of her as she tried to wrestle out of his hold.

Griffin clutched at her arms. “Nikki, Nikki stop,” he said, feeling his voice catch on her name.

“It’s your fault.” She shoved at his sternum. “You should have let me die!” Screams turned to sobs as she continued launching blow after blow. Clawing her fingers into his soaked tee shirt, he felt her nails scratch across his chest as she yanked at the material.

Griffin stared, aching to his bones, as she raged against him. This was what had been trapped inside her the whole time. Unimaginable pain hidden with a stone-faced mask.

With an unrelenting grip, he held her sides as she struggled.

“You should have let me die,” Nikki wept. “Why didn’t you let me die?”

He supported her until her knees gave out, and they both sank to the wet asphalt. She still slapped him, but he only hauled her closer.

Nikki fisted his shirt, shoving at him, trying to free herself. With one last attempt to get away, she collapsed against his chest, sobbing. “It’s my fault… it’s all my fault.”

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he soothed. “You’re gonna be okay…”

He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her, still whispering into her hair. He couldn’t hear her cries above the sky-splitting thunder, but he felt her shake against him. Pressing his cheek to the top of her head, he held her tighter and waited for the storm to end.

If anyone wants to read the short story I mentioned in my one reblog here it is! I'm putting it under a read more (which I hope works as I am on mobile)