Oh man. I’m hooked (HAHAHA…sorry). I wrote some Sidon x Link. Because I am weak for that stupid sweet sharkboy. This one is for @cinensis, who is aboard this ship with me and as thanks for his awesome support. ENJOY.
All fluff - cut for length, not for content.
Link wakes up sweating and panting, the silken seaplant sheets a tangle around him. It’s hard to tell if he has made any sort of noise in his sleep, but his throat feels rough, like he’s been inhaling small pieces of rock. The private bedchamber Prince Sidon gave him is in one of the towers overlooking the square below, where he can see the profile of Mipha’s statue from the balcony, past the gossamer curtains.
“Once this whole thing is over maybe things can go back to how they used to be when we were young.”
That’s what she had said, in the memory he had had, and perhaps that should have given him some comfort, but…he had seen her again in his dream, and her image shattered into a thousand fragments. There was chaos and screaming, pain and darkness, and then…he had awoken before there was anything more.
Sleep is the worst time for Link. Sleep, when he can’t tell where pieces of memories end and the tricks of a broken mind take over.
Link rises and puts on his simple tunic - leaving the Zora Armor neatly on the chest where he had placed it after trying it on (even the perfect fit had frustrated him, though he did not show it) - and wanders out, down the stairs to the Domain sprawling below. He knows that on the morrow, he will be called to fight the monster plaguing them, once again take on the mantle of the Champion of Hyrule, and…
It had been hours since you had last spoken, you supposed there was nothing you could say that could make the tense situation any better. A big part of you, the smart part of you, wanted to get up and walk out of the waiting room. Then, there’s the other part of you, the part that can’t leave Jiyong alone, stays and you’re too weak to fight against it. For your love towards Jiyong, you stay seated beside him rubbing his back comfortingly as he torments himself with what could be happening inside to his ex-girlfriend.
[Image of Coco and Yatsuhashi knocked out at the end of
their match in V03E04]
This, I think, more than anything, gets people upset about
CFVY’s characterization in the show. While I know it’s been over a year at this
point, I want to tackle this head on and hopefully lay this issue to rest because I still see people discussing it.
(Yeah, wishful thinking I know.)
“Why did Coco and Yatsuhashi go down so easily in their
two on two match?” people cry. And honestly, I’m not going to pretend that
the match is easy or fun for me to watch, but here are my
thoughts on how it happened because, honestly, it always made sense to me and
never once felt out of place (even as I get upset at seeing my beloved team get hurt).
The only other time we’d seen CFVY fight was against grimm,
in a life-or-death situation where they were protecting their home and
civilians. They had just gotten back from a long mission about 24 hours before
they got the call to go into downtown Vale and help with a grimm invasion of
unknown size. They were packing their heavy hitting dust and bullets – Velvet was
preparing to pull out her weapon and we know
how devastating that can be.
Remember also that fighting grimm – no matter how heavily
armored – is inherently different than fighting humans. Grimm don’t have auras –
they are comparatively much easier to hurt and kill – so even if CFVY was
packing the exact same equipment in Breach
as Lessons Learned, it would still
have taken more effort to even drain the aura of a human.
However, the Vytal
Festival Tournament was a sparring match. A sparring match that was heavily televised
and promoted, but still a sparring match. They weren’t out to kill or hurt anyone,
so I’m certain they left their heavy hitting ammo and dust at home. They’re
students training to be hunters to protect humanity – why would they bring
things to a friendly sparring match that could hurt people?
[Image of Coco and Yatsuhashi at the beginning of their match
Okay, so, then why
Coco and Yatsuhashi – the two tanks of team CFVY? Even with less heavy hitting
equipment, they are clearly not the best choice – they’re both slow moving,
Yatsu doesn’t seem to have a ranged weapon and Coco’s gun pretty much requires
her to stand in one place to use most effectively. Fox and Velvet, the far more mobile pair, would have
made a better choice – right?
[Image of Velvet and Fox in the stands at the tournament]
Velvet essentially doesn’t have a weapon. Given Ruby’s
attitude towards Velvet’s pictures, and Coco treating the weapon like a
priceless commodity, she doesn’t pull it often. There would be no point in
pulling it for a friendly sparring match against a rival school – it would have
been a complete waste of photos. While she’s a perfectly capable fighter
without her weapon, it still puts her at a disadvantage, and therefore she’s not a good choice.
Fox is a great
fighter, has a weapon, and is plenty mobile. However, in Breach, he followed Velvet’s lead into the fray. He may work best
with someone guiding him into a battle because of his blindness*. I also think he fights better when he knows
what to expect from their tactics – I’m sure grimm are fairly predictable – and
in an environment he’s familiar with. So he’d be fighting two unknown hunters
in training he’d never fought before and partnered with Coco or Yatsuhashi, who
again, are slower and not as mobile and would make for a poor lead. He probably
would have done fine in the singles
round, but struggled to get through the doubles.
Here’s another thing to think about: Coco and Yatsuhashi had a very
different mindset going into the fight than Emerald and Mercury.
Emerald and Mercury were prepared to kill. They weren’t trying to kill Coco and Yatsuhashi, but
there’s not a doubt in my mind that if it came down to it they would have. (Mercury more readily than
Emerald, but still.) Again, Coco and Yatsuhashi were there for a friendly sparring match and were not
actively trying to hurt anyone – nor would they ever feel like it would be
necessary given the circumstances.
Given that they knew their strengths and weaknesses and that
the doubles round essentially would have to be Coco and Yatsuhashi – arguably the
worst possible combination from the team – why did team CFVY enter the
tournament in the first place? They had to know they’d lose at some point –
that the four on four match would probably be easy, but in the doubles round
they’d crash and burn.
So, let’s rephrase the original question: why did team CFVY enter the tournament knowing they were going to lose?
[image of Velvet with a holographic version of Crescent
Velvet is an amazing fighter with a huge weakness – her weapon is only as good as the weapons she has photos of. The Vytal Festival is a
fantastic chance for her to get as many photos as possible – and if they enter
the tournament directly they’re going to have access to locker rooms and be
able to get in way closer. Hell, Velvet may not have been allowed to bring in
her weapon without being a participant. So with that in mind, I think CFVY signed up for the tournament without a second thought - and would do so all over again just so that Velvet had as meany weapons as possible at her disposal.
*I know, technically, this is only fanon, but heavily supported fanon and so for the purposes of this post and any meta I write, I’m working under the assumption that Fox is blind.
I absolutely love this. I’m unsure about the quality but the idea - I’m in love. I can imagine this boy with his colours and his grin so clearly and he’s already managed to tug at my heart over the few days I’ve been writing it. I truly and deeply hope you enjoy it. Please enjoy.
The trees smile down protectively over the shrubbery and dirt, they block out the sun to the best of their ability but the sun manages to glare through the branches every once in a while.
It’s peaceful, which is why I enjoy spending time hidden and surrounded by nature, miles from any human contact. I sit between to gigantic roots, my flask balancing on top of the left one like a first-rate acrobat and my backpack resting at my feet.
I’m a tiny fraction of the forest. I barely makes one whole percent, and the idea of it fills me with contentment, along with a dash of curiosity. Wondering just how far out the trees have taken over and made the land their own, I’m left to scan my surroundings.
It’s murky in every direction, but the darkness doesn’t take over until much further away, as though there’s something in the far distance that someone doesn’t want me to see, so they result in blacking it out, erasing it from my vision.
The odd bird will chirp high up in the trees and - in the opposite direction - another will attempt to imitate it. This happens so often that I become used to it and its effect weakens so that I’m no longer startled by it as I was to begin with.
I’m content as I sit under the tree, feeling its hard bark pressing into my back, and I take a sip of the hot chocolate that stays heated and creamy within my flask. The sweet smell of chocolate would probably be feeling my senses if it wasn’t for the dirt and wood having such an effect.
There’s a slight gush of wind and it causes the bushes nearby to dance against it. I try to tell myself that a chill runs down my back because of the sudden wind, not because of fear creeping into my stomach.
The time ticks by and the air gets colder with each minute that passes, although I hardly notice because I become so involved with the words of Stephen King, they’re printed beautifully across the pages but they turn into one whole blur as my eyes swing from left to right.
There’s another shaking of leaves ahead of me, but my mind and my body know not to be afraid at this point so I don’t move.
Wendy and Danny Torrance are shopping for Christmas presents in the world within my book, and I find myself adoring Jack Torrance, despite knowing things are taking their time to go down the steep hill. My heart drops into my stomach and my neck cracks from the force of lifting it so suddenly when I hear the snapping of twigs ahead of me.
The darkness is a curtain, stopping me from seeing more than fifty feet in front of me. It only heightens the panic that I thought was nonexistent. Cautiously, I close my book and rest it on the tree trunk beside me. I watch the darkness and wait.
My heart is alive and angry. It’s threatening to slide up my throat and in my mouth. I swallow and get the feeling I’m going to throw up, I rub my hands together slowly as a stupid attempt to distract myself.
Whether it’s my imagination - with my panic having a say in it also - or my ears telling me the truth, I’m not sure, but I hear a low growl coming from the black. A gasp betrays my secret vow to keep as quiet as possible and leaves my lips.
Before I can do anything, (not that I had any smart plan in mind) there’s a movement too clear to have been a trick of the light, or my imagination. A set of black boots appear out of the shadows; they’re layered with dried mud splatters and the laces - maybe once as yellow as the sun - are now frayed and a mix of dark green and a light brown. While my eyes are inspecting them, they move closer to me.
The black boots are followed by black jeans that seem to fit securely around the legs. There’s rips and tears that don’t look like the usual you see on teenagers; I don’t think these ones are voluntary. The skin beneath them looks unusual but I decide it’s likely to be because of the darkness clouding my vision.
I’ve been too busy collecting tiny bits of insignificant features that I didn’t realise the pressure that seems to be increasing on my back. I’ve been leaning back so much that the bark of the tree is digging into the skin between my shoulder blades, I assume it’ll leave marks for a few hours.
I chance a glance at the figure once more and see a set of eyes staring at me, burning into my entire being. They looked as though they were glowing.
It’s silent for some time, although I can hear my heart thumping violently inside of me skull and my ears are starting to ring. The figure is getting closer.
I want to scream and run as fast as my legs can carry me, I want to cry out for help, but all I manage to do is part my lips, expecting some coherent sentence to come out.
“What are you doing here?” the figures asks and a shiver - that is definitely not caused by the wind this time - shocks my spine.
The moonlight decides to help me by casting a soft light on the figure. I can see the top of their head shines a caramel colour and the hair swipes back with a messy look. I’m not able to keep my gaze on their hair because almost instantly, something else catches my eye.
Along the skin, red marks glow like a fire in full force. The patterns don’t see to have any specific form but instead, random and unsystematic across every inch of visible skin.
The breath hitches in my throat as though someone has reached down into me and stopped me from being able to do anything but stare with panic. My feet feel glued to the dirt layering the ground.
“I-I, I wasn’t doing anything-“
“You shouldn’t be here. These aren’t your parts. You’re mundane, a normal.”
To this, I can’t help but frown. The boy didn’t seem to attempt to ease his disgust at the words ‘mundane’ and ‘normal’ to avoid offended me. Despite this, I’m too terrified by the whole situation to bring it up.
The boy - whose age seems to show the closer he gets, I can see the darkness under his eyes and the frown set onto his forehead, but his skin looked smooth and ironed out - watched me closely with dark eyes. They were dangerously close to being completely black.
“What’s your name?” he asks, and when his pink lips part, I can see his canines are sharp and glistening white. A silent gasp travels up my dry throat.
“I was taught not to talk to strangers, never mind going around and telling them my name willy-nilly.” I surprise myself with the amount of strength behind my words.
“You’ve already shown you’re incapable of following rules; you’ve spoken to me plenty a time already.”
I ignore his remark and catch another glimpse of his arms. The marks infesting his arms were no longer just red, but yellow and black also. Maybe I just hadn’t noticed them previously.
“What did you mean by ‘mundane’ and ‘normal’?” I take the risk of asking, and in response, I see the boy’s unlighted eyes staring into my own.
“Well,” he starts. “The official definition is the lacking of excitement or interest- dull even, but I implied that you’re ordinary, you’re normal. Human.”
At this, I laughed. I can tell it took the boy by surprise because the scowl lifted off of his face momentarily while he raised an eyebrow. “And what are you? Some kind of abnormal being?”
“I’ve been called that before, yes, but that’s not my official title.”
I scan his face for some sign of amusement but find nothing. The level of confusion within my body sky-rockets and I’m uncertain of my strength of containing it. The atmosphere seems to change ever so slowly, and being able to see the full figure of the boy, it makes it less daunting and I’m able to stand somewhat confidently.
“What are those on your arms?”
He looks down at them as though he was only just noticing they were there. The red appears to be fading but I can’t be sure due to the dark.
“My marks,” he mutters proudly. “Pointless and a rather weak strategy, but I think they add a little something.”
“Is that how you know I’m human? Because I don’t have any of those?” I ask slowly; weirdly, not wanting to wipe the pride off this boy’s face.
He nods, “and you humans have a different scent. Yours seems to be attempting to mix with the scent of sandalwood and dirt.” He clocks the flush that rises to centre of my cheeks and the shock in my expression. “Although I assume that has to do with the fact that you’re strolling around the middle of the forest in the early evening.”
“What’s the problem? Am I not allowed to be here? Is there some kind of law that says humans aren’t supposed to mix with your - supposedly - different kind?”
“Of course not, each of us merely agreed to stay away from each other when we clashed a few hundred years ago. If you looked, there’s a high chance you’d see a sign saying ‘keep out’ in big black letters at the entrance to this place.”
After being stood in the open space for so long, the boy walks over to my spot between the two tree trunks and sits down. When he bends his leg I can see the swirling patterns through the rips in his jeans.
“So, you’re not human?” I question, taking a step forward.
“No,” he replies. “But I have no way of showing you and quite frankly, I couldn’t care less whether you’re convinced or not.”
The razor-sharp teeth and the near-black eyes and the colours of his skin, still fading and appearing and changing, they’re all doing an incredible job of convincing her that this wasn’t a dream, and he was most definitely not human.
“What are you going to do? Kill me?”
“Don’t be stupid, I don’t have any of my torture weapons with me,” he states calmly and lets his pointer finger twirl around the lid of my flask. “There’s nothing I can do. You haven’t really done anything wrong, besides trespassing.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to-“
“Forget it. You should count your lucky stars it was me who found you and not someone else, they’re not so forgiving.”
I bite my tongue and take a seat at the other side of the tree trunk. It becomes a wall between us. I grab my flask, snap the lid open and take a sip. I’m thankful to be able to feel the warm liquid seeping into my system and heating my body.
I’m unable to believe mere moments ago I was contemplating running for my life when this boy seems harmless, (I call him a boy due to the fact that I’m unsure as to what he is.)
“Would, would you like some?” I ask politely without thinking and I can feel my cheeks buzzing softly.
“What is it?”
“It was hot chocolate, but now, it’s more lukewarm chocolate.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.” He looks between the flask and my face, probably seeing my hesitant wonder. “My system wouldn’t have it. It could either have minor affects, a little bit of throwing up and spitting blood here and there, or I’d drop dead in a matter of hours. I like to think of myself as a bit of a chancer, but a hot drink doesn’t seem worth it.”
I’m given more information than I expected, and all I can do is nod, pulling the flask slowly into my lap. “So, those marks, how’d you get them?”
“Do you always ask a lot of questions?” He turns to look at me. I don’t think his facial expression has changed once yet.
I’m taken aback and I cower like an abandoned puppy. “Sorry,” I mutter.
It’s quiet for a moment and I can see the boy tracing the patterns on his skin. The yellows are burning bright now and the red seems to be being replaced with browns and greys. I’m itching to know what he’s feeling.
“I’ve had them since birth, I was born with them,” he murmurs, not looking at me.
“They’re quite pretty,” I say, biting the edge of the flask now.
He chuckles. “Thank you, human. I have to say, your skin is quite boring.” He grins and I’m able to be given front row seats to the view of his sharp teeth. I wonder how much damage they could do.
“I have to agree with you on that. You must feel artistically beautiful all the time with those things.”
“Not really, because while you’re seeing these for the first time, they’re normal for my kind so they’re not a big deal. It’s nice to have them appreciated though.”
Orange seeps onto his skin, moving from his fingertips to his elbows. I watch it happen in complete awe.
His colours radiated slightly now, and I could see pink creeping up his neck due to his cheeks flushing, not the patterns. He looks embarrassed and I can’t understand why. He folds his arms over each other. The orange and the yellow and the brown and the grey are the only colours that I can see; everything is being dominated by the darkness except his colours.
“What do the colours mean?”
He sighs and I cringe, knowing I’ve asked yet another question. “It’s difficult because colours can mean a lot of different things. For example, that orange is me being cheerful because I liked the idea of someone appreciating my marks, and that brown- it’s fading now, but that was boredom. The grey was me being uninterested, but look, now that the conversation has steered towards me, it’s fading.” The boy flashes a playful smirk and runs his slender fingers through his jungle of hair.
“And what does the yellow mean?” I ask, pointing to the colour burning bright on the back of his upper arm. He cranes his neck to find it immediately.
“Oh, that’s hunger. I’m starving.”
I remember that I have a chocolate bar in my bag and gently reach to grab it as it sits at his feet. I rummage through it but pause instantly.
“W-what do you eat?” My hand is wrapped around the chocolate bar, but I wait for him to speak.
“I love dead bird with a side dish of human fingers, and some blood for drinking.” I think he sees my body retract and my face drop because he laughs loudly. The yellow spreads and I assume that it means something different. “I’m kidding, what’d’you got?”
A big gush of relief washes over me and I pull the bar out of my bag. He takes it without another word and unwraps it. I sit back against the tree and let the silence take me under. Hugging the flask to my chest, I listen as the boy devours the chocolate bar gratefully. It’s still fairly dark in the forest, but the boy illuminates the space around us with his colours - blue, yellow, orange and a hint of red blend glimmer on their own accord.
GENRE: angst, make-up
SUMMARY: robert confronts aaron over his comments
i thought this was ooc for ever but oh WELL (thanks for your help, @beautifulhigh!
Their bedroom is a mess, clothes strewn about the floor, the bed covers half hanging off. It should be comforting, usually makes Robert feel the press of love behind his breastbone. Now it just infuriates him. He wants to break something, cause some damage, and clenches his hands into fists. He can’t do it, can’t give in to his rage, not when he’s trying so hard to be better.
For what, he thinks nastily, sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s Aaron’s side, his wet towel sitting in a puddle on the floor. Robert grits his teeth, hates it anyway, but now - now he just wants to tear it to shreds.
There’s footsteps on the stairs and the hair on the back of Robert’s neck stands on end. Aaron, then.
Dropping his head into his hands, Robert tries to keep his anger in check. He doesn’t want to lash out, not now, not when he’s supposed to be strong.
“Wondered where you’d got to.” Aaron says it lightly, like everything’s fine.
“Wanted to be on my own.”
Aaron doesn’t get the hint, comes into the bedroom and shuts the door behind him. “Think Liv’s feeling better.”
Ah, hello ^^ could you please write a Jc for RFA+V+Saeran (nd Vanderwood if that's okay) reacting to MC relapsing and hurting them self? Preferably with a happy ending? I relapsed the other day and I just,...feel like I need hope. Sorry to bother!!!
Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry that it happened again. I wish I could offer you some solid advice besides these little hcs, but I hope you are doing better. We love you and hope you’re doing okay!!!
- He didn’t notice for a while until the two of you were washing dishes together again. He was drying, you were washing, and it was a nice relaxing thing the two of you had set up. Usually the two of you talked, but today you were being pretty quiet.
- He knew you had a few scars from the past, but he never pointed them out unless you did. He never wanted you to feel ashamed or horrible for things that had happened long in the past.
- But as you rolled up your sleeves and winced, especially since the water wasn’t too hot, he noticed a new scar, a fresh one.
- He didn’t know what to do at first, he just stood there a moment before he finally grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a tight hug, trying not to get overly emotional
- “I don’t know why you did it, and I’m not trying to embarrass you, but please, please, let me know the next time. So I can at least try something to help you not. Not do that. Please, we can come up with something else.”
- The two of you often got ready together in the mornings. He was trying to get you two to try and share the same schedule when you came over, but letting you sleep if work made him get up in crazy hours of the morning.
- However, as he watched you brush your hair, he noticed a mark he wasn’t used to seeing yet.
- A round, burn mark.
- He swallowed thickly, a few pieces of your past springing to mind as he realized where a few of his missing cigs must have went to. Even though it was the mark was small, he knew the intent you had when you made it.
- He wouldn’t outright say anything, until it was getting worse. He would just keep a closer eye on you and the things around the house that could hurt. He made sure to compliment you more, and have more of the sappy late night talks (Where it was hard to get him to shut up about how much he loved every bit of you), and had a bit more of an incentive to stop smoking.
- Trying to slip something like this past him hardly ever works. He’s too attentive. Not controlling you (the two of you safely worked through that), but with his style of life there’s routine check ups, meal plans, everything.
- So for a few days when you opted out of dinner, saying you already ate, or that you weren’t just hungry, he did worry a bit. After consulting a doctor and the main chef the two of you used, and realizing that no, you weren’t sick, and that no, you weren’t eating at all apparently, he was worried, quick.
- He doesn’t connect it to self-harm right away, but he does once he tries to talk to V and after looking up a few articles.
- He is one to approach you about it. Not being harsh, but carefully asking soft questions of why you felt the need to do so, mainly because it’s a hard concept to grasp for him. When you tear up and start looking ashamed, he stops asking questions and immediately is hugging you, kissing your forehead and muttering how much he loves you.
-It’s still a careful learning process with him, to try and figure out how exactly to help and when to back off, but he would try to push a bit for at least some therapy.
-You couldn’t breathe, you just kept sobbing out as you slammed your fists against your head repeatedly, and Seven felt hopeless. You didn’t know he could see you, but he was glued to the spot, trying to just think, to move.
- The two of you had gotten into another argument where he had pushed you away. Usually he left you stomp to your room as he sat and moped for a bit, but this time he followed you after immediately regretting his outburst.
- Was this what you did every time the two of you fought? He felt his insides twist, and he was on you in a second, pulling your fists away from yourself, pulling you tight against him as he spilled out so many apologies, so many promises of future changes.
- The two of you spent a while holding each other and crying on the floor, but it gave him enough proof that he really needed to stop pushing you away when things got rough, especially if this is what happened each time.
- Like Jumin, it’s hard to sneak things past her. Years of working under him has taught her to pay attention to details that often go by unnoticed.
- You sleeping in so late, seeming dizzy all the time, unable to eat. Jaehee knows something is up, and it doesn’t take much guessing to figure it out.
- She doesn’t say much, but she takes a day or two off of work to get you back up to focusing on at least eating, even if it’s soup. She almost treats you like you’ve just gotten a stomach bug, but she’s very firm the whole time, especially if you try to refuse to eat.
- But once you seem to be able to have yourself keep down food for a while, even lasting a whole day, she ends up peppering your face in kisses, going on about how she much she loves you, and nothing about how you were hurting yourself.
- Instead, she spends her breaks and freetime looking up ways she can help you, more than she does now, just so you don’t feel the need to have to do such a thing to yourself again.
- When he notices a new bandage on you, he doesn’t know how to react. Especially when you keep changing the subject when he asks about it, offering little to no explanation. He knows these tactics, he’s familiar with them.
- At first he gets a bit angry that you did it, even though he knows he shouldn’t be. He doesn’t want you to think you have to go through these things on your own, that he’s here for you to at least talk to. But he knows it’s irrational. He sucks it up and forces himself to calm down a bit before approaching you, wrapping his arms tight around you.
- “You’re not alone anymore.” It’s the best he can think to say, and he’s worried you might not know what he means by it, but your soft sniffles tell him otherwise. He spends the night slowly, and carefully, discussing ways to help you.
- Since his sight is still bad, he focuses on touching you a lot. Holding your hand, giving your thigh a squeeze, and don’t even get started on all of the cuddling.
- One night as the two of you were cuddling, him running his fingers across your skin lightly, he counted one too many scars on your ribs. Was that right? Was it just your bones messing with him? As he ran his fingers across again, your hands stopped his, and he knew he didn’t miscount.
- His first words were almost how you could hurt him instead, how he didn’t mind you taking out everything on him, but he remembered your requests of when you first opened up to him.
- He buried his nose in your hair, trying to keep his voice steady as he asked if you minded him talking to Jumin to find someone to help you. He’s softly, but steady, remind you that seeking help wasn’t a sign of weakness, but of strength, as he tried to make sure he didn’t choke up.
- He was used to you being banged up a bit. You were pretty clumsy, or you told him that at least. Scabs from bug bites from when you didn’t wear any leggings in peak bug season? Thorn cuts from when you accidentally fell into a rose bush? Knees banged up from falling and…Other fun activities? Your legs were covered in scars and new scabs.
- He would tsk when you revealed a new one, or if he stumbled on one, and immediately go to bandage it up for you, with a few minor remarks.
- However, this time he was noticing your recent collection of them were becoming easily infected, moreso than they should. The scabs were dark, a bit gross, and the surrounding area was very red and irritated. When he made a bit of a fuss, only to see you looking ashamed, it didn’t take much to realise that this was either a very bad habit, or you were doing this on purpose.
- Like Zen, he wouldn’t outright say anything, but he would focus on making less harsh remarks, being kinder and trying to treat you to nice dates/gifts when work allowed. (He would suck up any embarrassment and try to even get cheesy when expressing how much he loved you, too).
Okay so I’ve decided to just post every two days since it’s kind of been a cycle…but there was a SERIOUS delay because either A) tumblr isn’t working on my mac or B) something is wrong with my mac/wifi idk and honestly I’m a little upset.
So I’m typing this on a random desktop computer =( Again
thanks for the all the support and although I would love to tag everyone again, it’s just
gotten to be way TOO many at this point. So I’ll just tag a few people who have voiced
their support so far…
The last four weeks have been living
hell: you feel so empty and hollow, nothing makes sense without him. Most of
the time you have the unnerving sensation your thoughts are not your own. You
wish you would have died with him that night, at least you wouldn’t have to go
through this excruciating agony.
The knock in the door makes Damon
left his head from all the building plans, maps and schedules he has scattered
all over his desk.
“Come in!” he mumbles, trying to pile
up everything into an organized chaos.
His henchman comes in, quite
agitated, attempting to keep it together:
“Sir, The Joker’s widow is here.”
“Fuck, don’t make her wait!” he snaps at the guy, getting up from his chair.
“She doesn’t like to wait! You know her temper. And don’t call her that again;
if she hears you you’re dead!”
“Yes, sir. I think you should know
she has about 100 men with her and a lot of vans outside. I stopped counting at
30; there’s a whole army in our underground parking.”
“Shit…” Damon sighs, keeping his
cool. “That’s good though, it will come in handy. Let her in,” he commands,
After a few seconds he sees Frost
opening the door for you and you walk in slowly, still limping a bit from the
gunshot wound you got a month ago. Your eyes are swollen and he can tell you’ve been crying; that’s only that much
makeup can cover. You’re dressed up in black and he never saw you wearing the
color before. It makes him uneasy. The sleeveless tight leather suit matches
your black stilettos and you have even more Joker themed tattoos on your arms
(and even probably all over) than he remembers. Your half neon green half
bright purple hair is parted in the middle and braided, just like the Clown
Prince of Crime liked it.
“Mrs. J, you’re here!” he cracks a
smile, walking towards you. “Please, take a seat.” Damon pulls a chair for you,
trying to be as pleasant as possible. He knows better than not to piss you off,
especially in the state you’re in.
“I’ll stand!” you utter, staring him
down with your icy green eyes that send shivers down his spine.
“As you wish,” he nervously adjusts
his tie, waiting for you to speak.
“I want my husband’s body, you told
me you know where it is,” you raise your voice, feeling you are on a verge of a
“Van Criss Laboratories,” he calmly
answers. ”The new location, well-guarded.
My inside person tells me it won’t be easy to get in,” Damon spits out,
aware nothing will stop you.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. I hired a
lot of mercenaries, plus my men. I can hire more, money is not an issue, you
know I have the resources. Just tell me a number, don’t be shy,” you
sarcastically grin and he knows that’s not a good sign.
“If you want things to go smooth, you
probably need 50 more men,” he decides to be honest since he doesn’t have a
“Done!” you are fast in replying.
“It can be done by tonight so our plan won’t change. I will retrieve his body
even if I have to kill everyone in that building and level it to the ground, do
you hear me?” you enunciate with such determination it makes him weak in the
“Of course, Mrs. J. My informant
tells me Mister Joker’s…e-hem (he coughs, having the feeling he’s walking on
egg shells) … remains are on B-Level, coolant number 682.”
Damon hears you gulp and notices your
eyes getting teary, but you are not here to discuss your sorrow; this is
important business. You regain your composure and lift your chin up, barking at
“Show me on the map!”
It’s been a month since you lost J.
You barely sleep 2-3 hours a night; you can’t rest, eat or function without
him. Every time you close your eyes you see The Joker and hear his husky voice
in your ear:
“Wake up, baby!”… … … …”Hey, Y/N, wake up, wake up, hey!” Then you realize it’s Frost
shaking you so you snap out of your reoccurring nightmare. “Wake up, you’re
screaming!” He always lifts you up from your pillow, holding you tight while
you’re panicking, your heart racing to the point of fainting. Jonny tries his
best to comfort you but he knows it’s no use. You just keep on repeating the
same words, uncontrollably sobbing on his shoulder:
“Where’s J, Frosty?… Where’s J?…”
“He’s not here, Y/N…ssstttt, go back
to sleep…he’s…not here…”
“Where’s my husband? Where’s J?” you
clench to his shirt, suffocating him with your embrace and that’s when he would
reach for your sleeping pills and try to give you one:
“It’s OK, Y/N, I got you; here, take this.” But you don’t want to take it; you
know that if you do that you will fall asleep and see his death over and over
**You, J and Frost were caught in the
ambush and tried to get away with no success. When the bullets started flying
from all sides, you abandoned the car and made a run for the river. A bullet
hit you in the thigh and you collapsed on your knees. Frost rushed to help you
and you turned your head to see where The Joker was.
He almost got to you when several
bullets hit his body and he fell to the ground. You struggled to crawl back to
him but Frost pulled you away, wanting to save at least one. After all, it was
his job to protect The Queen and King of Gotham. You barely escaped the carnage
and you will never forget how you kept on looking back while fighting Jonny,
yelling at him to let you go and saw The Joker trying to get up. More bullets
shrieked by your head and he went down. He didn’t move anymore. **
The last four weeks have been living
hell: you feel so empty and hollow, nothing makes sense without him. Most of
the time you have the unnerving sensation your thoughts are not your own. You
wish you would have died with him that night, at least you wouldn’t have to go
through this excruciating agony.
“Y/N, we’re here!” Frost gets you out
of your numbness, pointing towards the building. “We’re going to clear the
path, wait here and you can come once it’s safe, OK?”
“U-hum,” you agree, absent minded.
When Jonny gets out of the van you finally muster the strength to mumble:
You definitely spared no expense in
putting together the team to help you get inside Van Criss Laboratories in
order to recover The Joker’s body. All these mercenaries you hired better prove
their worth: you won’t leave without your husband even if it’s the last thing
you will ever do.
You emotionlessly watch the gunshots
lighting up the night, explosions and screams echoing in the darkness. After
about an hour you get a text from Frost:
“It’s safe, we cleared it. Come in.”
You drive yourself to the structure
and your hands get shaky once you step inside. All the henchmen step aside to
let you pass as your high hills click on the long corridors. So much blood on
the floor and walls, you definitely lost some people also, but it doesn’t make
Frost waits for you at the elevator.
“We found the room,” he announces,
carefully watching as you lean on his arm, suddenly lightheaded. “Are you all
right?” he inquires, worried to see you like this.
“I’m fine,” you pant, trying not to
show any emotions but it’s impossible to do so. You wipe your face with your
hands, quietly crying:
“Is he…in there?”
“He is,” Jonny answers, squeezing you
closer to him.
“Thank God,” you whimper, relieved
and in the same time heartbroken because there is no turning back. It’s
“We already took him out of the cooler,”
he lets you know since he wants you prepared for the encounter. But how could you ever be prepared for
something like this? “We can’t linger, we triggered the alarms. This place
is in the middle of nowhere; still, it shouldn’t take them too long to get
here. We need to move out soon.”
“I know…” you deeply exhale when the
elevator’s door open in front of you for B-Level. All your men avoid looking at
you as follow Jonny, dragging your feet behind him.
When he stops in front of the room,
your heart stops too. He signals everyone to clear the perimeter and you stand
“Is that…my husband?” you ask even if
you don’t have to.
You see J in the middle of the
chamber, already on the stretcher, his pale body covered with a white sheet
from waist down. Frost closes the door behind you and steps away to give you
privacy. He’s the only one left on the hallway. Not hearing a single sound
worries him until you start screaming and bawling on the other side of the
wall. It gives him goosebumps and he is not easily disturbed by such things.
You took J’s body to one of your hideouts
and you locked yourself with him in the basement. You can’t stop crying as you
keep on caressing his green hair. So many bullet wounds… When you lean over and
kiss him, his lips feel colder than ice and it breaks you even more. What is a Queen without her King? Nothing, absolutely nothing, you
reply in your mind, wiping the tears streaming down your face.
You rest your cheek on his left hand,
outlining the laughing mouth tattoo and take out his wedding ring. You are
surprised he still has it but at least you will be able to wear it on a chain
around your neck now. You bury your face on his chest, sobbing, not really
knowing what your next move should be.
In 7 years, you memorized every
single little scar on his skin, every line and curve of his tattoos, all the
little imperfections that made him so perfect to you. You sniffle and lift your
head up, analyzing the tattoo around his left wrist, identical to yours: “Match made -Joker x Y/N- in hell”
with both your names in the middle, just like a bracelet.
“Hmm…” escapes your lips as you realize
the writing seems a bit smaller than what it should be. Must be because you can’t think clearly at this point. Your eyes
unconsciously travel back to his laughing mouth tattoo and without realizing
you start counting the teeth. An extra one than what it should be. My God you
are tired…You rub your eyes, upset, and count again. Why is there an extra tooth?!
You count again and then one more time, it
just can’t be right. You even stopped crying, intrigued.
“J- Jonny…Jonny!” you stutter,
calling for him because he can’t be too far. You unlock the door and sure thing
Frost is right there:
“What is it? You need something?”
“Bring me a black light,” you request,
clinging to the door handle like your life depends on it.
“Hold on, I think there’s one in the next
room. Are you OK?” he shouts over his shoulder, not liking the fact that you
look so lost.
“Y-Yeah…” you mutter, biting your
nails as you return next to J’s body.
“Here’s the black light, what do you
need it for?” he enters the room, handing over what you wanted.
“Turn off the light please!” you
almost yell and Frost does as asked. You turn on the black light and bring it
on top of the laughing mouth tattoo, moving up and down, watching for what you
hope you won’t see. And you don’t.
“Oh my God, Frost, this is not J,”
you cover your mouth, gasping. “It’s not J !!”
“What?! What do you mean?” he looks at you, wondering if you finally snapped.
“See this?” you shine the light on
your collarbone Jester tattoo, your fingers shaking with anxiety. Frost sees J & Y/N glowing under the UVA light.
“We got this three years ago, nobody knows about it. It’s a special ink that
you can only see under the black light; I have it on my Jester tattoo and he
has it on his laughing mouth tattoo. Look,” you show him, moving the light on
top of The Joker’s tattoo. ”Nothing, no initials.”
“Fuck…” Frost whispers, dumbfounded.
“Who the hell is this then?!”
“I have no idea… but it sure looks exactly
like J, almost fooled me. All his features are mimicked to perfection; they
went through a lot of trouble to make this person look like my husband. You
know why, Frost?” you glare at the body, fascinated with the resemblance.
“So we won’t look for him anymore?”
Jonny frowns, baffled.
You just nod a yes, a thousand thoughts running through your head in the same
time. Frost turns the lights back on and something pops in your mind:
“I wonder if…” and you yank the sheet
away, completely exposing the corpse. Your eyes rest on the mid-section and
not J, I should have looked here first,” you pinpoint to Frost, relieved,
and he averts his eyes, not expecting the twist. “Jeez, Jonny, are you five
years old?” you admonish him while he just lifts his shoulders up, not wanting
to argue. “Just get in touch with Damon, I need to speak to him.”
There is nothing stronger than hope
given to a scorned woman looking to settle her demons. The mere glimpse at the
possibility of The Joker still being alive set in motion unimaginable forces
upon Gotham. You didn’t stop at anything in order to obtain information and
search for answers. The more days passed without finding him, the more
impatient and merciless you grew. You unleashed everything you’ve got all over
the damn city, making sure there was no escape for the ones standing in your
way. If The Clown Prince of Crime was still breathing, you were determined to
find him at all costs.
After 8 months, Damon gave you another
“I just faxed you something, did you
“I’m getting it right now…What am I
looking at?” you ask, grabbing the papers as they are printing.
“Arkham report from the night of theincident:
did you notice the number I circled on page 2? That’s how many inmates were in
the Asylum at the time. Now look at the number I circled on page 5, the name of
prisoners next day: one more than the previous day. No papers, no name, just a
number in cell 547A , very easy to miss if you don’t pay close attention. It
might be what you’re looking for, my sources tell me it’s a man, kept on the
lowest underground level with the most…ummm…(he tries to choose his words
carefully but there is no way around it) dangerous criminally insane prisoners.
That’s all they were able to retrieve. The section is soundproof; only 5 people
have access to the area. You will need your men again to get in and out. Mrs. J,
are you there?” he inquired when you didn’t reply.
“I am,” you cut him off, already
signaling Frost to come over.
Getting inside was a bitch, they sure
made the accursed place a real fortress. You were almost killed in the process;
thinking that J might be there made you more reckless and more impulsive than
ever. It was a blood bath and lots of casualties but nothing had too high of a
price for your mission.
* Frost and your henchmen got you as
far as the underground soundproof section and you want to go inside alone
while they surveille the surroundings. You stand in front of the metal door of
cell number 547A. No bars, no openings, nothing. All the doors in this block
are like this, perfectly sealed. You put the gun back in your holster and wipe
the blood of the electronic key Frost got for you from the control room. You
bring it close to the keypad and once the yellow light comes on, the heavy door
opens with a hiss. It’s pitch black inside, only the light from the hallway
creeps inside now.
You inhale deeply and step inside.
You see him in the straitjacket with the back turned towards you; there is no
green hair, his head is shaved.
“Oh, goodie, more fun, I was getting
bored,” J huffs and you start silently crying, approaching him and not saying anything.
“You guys never talk to me, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me. Can
someone leave the light on at least? I’m in the darkness all the time, except
for when you take me out for fun times. I think I’m going blind.”
You start unstrapping the metal hooks
from his jacket and once it’s done you toss it to the ground. He has nothing
under the jacket and you can’t help but noticing the numerous bruises, bullet scars and cuts of
all sizes on his skin.
“Who’s going first, hm? Don’t be shy,
guys, it’s not like you,” he keeps on rambling, unaware of what’s going on. “Like
I said, I was getting bored so let’s get on with it!” The Joker snickers
because when does he ever know when to cut it out.
You kiss his neck and wrap your hands
around his chest, whispering in his ear:
“You still talk too much, handsome.” You
feel his heart beating faster and faster and his body relaxes. You can’t see
the smirk on his face when he tells you:
“What took you so long, baby?”
He slowly turns around in your arms
and you hug him tight, desperate and relived in the same time, not wanting to
let go. He starts purring and firmly holds you, smelling your hair, ecstatic to
see you but not wanting to show it too much:
“I missed your perfume, these guys here smell horrible,” and he grins when he
realizes you are softly laughing even if he can senses the tears still falling
from your eyes on his shoulder.
“I thought you were dead,” you
finally tilt your head back a bit to gaze at him and he looks so worn out. You
kiss him and he growls, content to have his Queen again. “We should get going…” you
suggest, not wanting to part from his arms but you really have to.
J grabs your hand and you step
outside the cell, when you suddenly stop.
“Hold on,” you tell him and pull down the elastic on his Arkham sweatpants for
a few moments, looking inside, then you let it go. “OK, it’s you,” you sigh, but
you wanted to make sure, just in case.
“You’re such a naughty girl, Doll,”
he replies, chuckling, not understanding why you did it, walking again while
he pulls you closer to him.
“It’s not what you think,” you smile, wiping your tears, and the confused look on his face
makes you continue: “I’ll explain when we get home.” He still looks at you all
puzzled. “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you.”
“What are you wearing, Pumpkin?!” his steps are getting faster and you quicken
the pace too. OH, that.
“Black clothes; I am, was in mourning, I thought you were
dead,” you look at your black shorts and top soaked in blood and he yanks at
“I hate black, it’s such a depressing
color, don’t wear this stuff ever again, got it?” The Joker keeps on bickering
and for once you don’t even care.
“Fine, I won’t,” you agree, kissing
“I’m not even dead, Kitten,” he rolls
his eyes and wants to tease you more because he sure missed doing it.
“How was I supposed to know?! I wasn’t
even sure if I was going to find you here,” you whine, playing along because
you realize he needs this after such a long time; you just know how he works.
Frost waits at the main entrance and
hears your voices getting closer and closer; it sure sounds like an argument
which means you found him and he takes a deep breath, grateful his boss was
indeed here and the ordeal is over.
“…are you going to let your hair
grow?! I’m not crazy about the bold look,” your voice resonates behind the door
that Jonny is fast to open.
“I didn’t have a choice when they
shaved my head, Princess, and I am handsome anyway, you shouldn’t care.”
“Well, I do care, call me
superficial,” you grumble as you pass by Jonny. He sees J slapping your butt and you
giggle, amused, not remembering being so happy in your life.
“Sir,” Jonny greets, straightening his shoulders. My God, does the Joker seem even more frightening and intimidating
without his green locks or what?!
“Frost,” J acknowledges his
henchman, grinding his silver teeth. “She’s already driving me nuts,” he scoffs,
dragging you towards the mercenaries he notices down the corridor. He halts for a second to tug on your hair and kisses your forehead when you wince in pain, protesting:
The Fight For Independance(Platonic!Hamilsquad x African American!Reader)
Requested by: Anonymous
Summary: Living as a woman during the Revolution is hard enough, being African American on top of that makes it 1000 times harder. After being caught up in the street by a racist man, you meet up with Hamilsquad who protects you and makes you feel loved.
Warnings: Racist remarks towards African Americans made by white males, hitting, brief mentions of slavery.
Time Period: Hamiltime
A/N: Hello! So this was requested over a month ago, but here it is. I’m so sorry for the wait and I hope if you are the one who requested it, this lives up to your expectations. Also, I hope I didn’t offend anyone with this story because that was not my intentions. In case you were wondering, I have two King George III stories coming out soon along with part two of Love and Trust, another Lafayette story, and an angsty Thomas x Reader. I hope you enjoy and have a fabulous day!!
It wasn’t easy being a person with colored skin during the American Revolution. While you were lucky enough to live in New York, where slavery wasn’t as predominant as in the south, you still weren’t treated with the respect you deserved. On top of it all, you were a woman, which meant you received even less respect.
Instead of being enslaved, you worked as a maid for a white family, where you received a small, weekly wage that was just enough to get by on. Of course, the Revolution had reduced the amount of jobs and pay available.
Luckily for you, you had met the four best friends you could ask for: Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens, Gilbert…Marquis de Lafayette, and Hercules Mulligan. All of whom disagreed with the idea of slavery, and wanted to achieve freedom for all. John was even working on starting the first black battalion!
You had met your friends one night when you ran into them at the local bar. It had been your place of employment for a while, you were a waitress. One night, you kept serving them round after round, and you overheard their abolitionists ideas. You had agreed with them, introduced yourself, and the rest was history.
Present day, you were walking home from your job and going to meet the boys at the local bar. Eyes focused on the ground, you sped up, careful not to bump into anybody. It was dangerous for you to be walking alone, especially during time of war, but you didn’t want to burden any of the guys. They had more important things to worry about, like how to win independence.
Unfortunately, all had not gone as planned. While you had thought you were being careful to not hit anyone, somehow you had bumped shoulders with a white man. You prayed he would just let you be, but you weren’t that lucky.
“Watch it, you dumb slave girl.” the man spat at you.
Instead of answering, you thought it would be best to look at the ground and keep quiet. For some reason, the man you had bumped into took this as a sign of defiance.
“Hey! I was talking to you.” he growled and gripped your forearm tightly. You struggled as you tried to get the man to release his iron grip on you. “Don’t you have anything to say, or are you so stupid you can’t even speak?”
Although you were struggling, nobody in the streets stopped to help you out, you were all alone. “Let me go, I didn’t mean to bump into you.” you finally spoke, hoping that would satisfy the man enough to let you go.
“Ah, so the piece of filth can talk. Who do you think you are, disrespecting someone like me?” he asked, shaking your arm, gripping it even tighter.
You held back the tears that were forming in your eyes, not wanting to give this man the satisfaction of seeing you look weak. With all the strength you could muster, you confidently spoke. “You don’t scare me.”
“I don’t scare you, eh? You’re lucky you are semi-protected here in New York. If you spoke to me like that anywhere else, I’d have the right to whip you!” the man shouted and you knew your arm would be badly bruised.
Just as you thought he was going to let you go, he brought his hand up and slapped you hard across the cheek. The force of the blow caused you to let out a yelp.
Finally, the man shoved you to the ground and walked away like nothing had happened.
Shakily, you stood up and brushed the dirt from your dress, readjusted your shawl, and took a deep breath. You walked even faster to get to the bar, this time avoided everybody at all costs.
Once you finally reached the entrance, you adjusted your hair so it covered the mark left from the slap. You also pulled you sleeve down enough so it covered the fingerprint marks left from where you were grabbed.
Inside, you quickly spotted Alexander and the rest of your friends. You navigated through the hot, stuffy room and sat down between Hercules and John.
“Hello, (y/n). We thought you would never make it.” Alex laughed as he pushed in your chair.
You laughed nervously. “I apologize, I was let out later today than usual.” you lied.
“It’s alright, mon amie. You are here now and that is all that matters.” Lafayette stated, raising his glass in the air before taking a sip.
The night wore on and you began to forget about what had occurred just hours before. The boys didn’t question or notice your bruises, for which you were thankful. You got lost in the conversation with your friends, laughing and joking about whatever came to mind.
Eventually, it got so hot in the bar that you subconscienciously rolled up your sleeves and tucked your hair behind your ears. It hadn’t even been a minute since you did those actions when John’s face turned to one of horror.
“(y/n), what happened to your cheek?” he asked in shock, gently touching the delicate area of your face.
You winced and pushed your hair back over your cheek. “It’s, um, nothing.” you said very unconvincingly.
The boys just rolled their eyes because you wouldn’t tell them the truth. John was going to press further when Hercules touched your arm. “What did you do to your arm, (y/n)?” he asked as he looked at the bruises.
“I-I tripped?” you tried telling them, but it came out as more of a question.
“You did not trip, those are fingerprints.” Alex pointed out, a look of anger crossing his face.
“Please, (y/n), tell us what happened.” Lafayette begged, concern crossing his entire face.
Instead of answering, you began to cry as you were ashamed to recount to the boys what happened. At first, they all just stared at you in shock, but eventually, John was the first one to move to comfort you. He gathered you in his arms and stroked your hair in an attempt to comfort you. Soon, the other boys followed suit.
After a few minutes, you regained your composure and took a deep breath before explaining. “On my way home, I bumped into a man I didn’t know. I tried to just leave it be, but he grabbed onto my arm and started shouting at me. He told me I was nothing more than a worthless, piece of filth and tried to threaten me. When I made an attempt to stand up to him, well, he-he hit me.” you trailed off at the end, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lafayette stared at you in shock before he spoke. “(y/n), do not listen to that asshole for one moment. You are the sweetest, most generous person. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
“Thank you,” you smiled. “But that is how must people see me so it is not surprising that is how I get treated.” you admitted, looking at the ground.
John’s head snapped towards you. “(y/n), it is not fair how you are treated, so don’t think for a second you deserve it. In fact, I hope you know that I am fighting this war to win you your independence as well as the colonies.” he told you confidently.
Alex was next to speak as he brought you into a comforting hug. “You do not need to worry about that happening again, because from now on I will walk you from work to your home everyday I possibly can.” he promised and kissed your knuckles.
Hercules leaned forwards and kissed your forehead before adding your two cents. “And if that ever happens again, I will make sure that whoever made you cry will pay for it.” he threatened, but gave you a loving smile.
“Thank you.” you murmured, pulling all the boys into a giant group hug.
Although you knew it would be a long journey to gain your independence, you knew it would be alright with your boys at your side.
Dirty Little Secret - Theo Raeken and Brett Talbot Smut
Request: Rough smut with Brett and Theo for anon
Warnings: SMUT, threesomes, dominant werewolves
A/N: With exams this took me a while but I’m proud of the smut in this. Requests are open and remember to have holy water before, while or after reading this.
Hands roamed all over your body. Feeling each finger run down your curves, carving out a path that soon delicate lips would follow. Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your body was switched on to breeding mode and you were in heat. An hour ago Scott could only tell you what your body was going through and Malia wasn’t human when she went through this, so you went to the other werewolf you knew. Brett Talbot.
Seeing as the werewolf gene was passed down and not forcefully given to him. You’d expect that he knew more about his supernatural side than Scott but the poor boy was a clueless as you were. There was something off about your body but paying little attention you continued on with your quest on trying to find more information about your “state”. You were oblivious to the fact that Brett took a deep breath in, holding the air to slowly release after his lungs burned with the need for fresh air. A grumble too low for your busy mind to comprehend bubbled up in his chest while his eyes shined yellow.
Images of cocky blue eyes filled your mind clouding your usual rational thinking, urging you to find the body they belonged to. Blue boys transforming into a mischievous smirk broke through the walls of doubt Stiles had you build. Though you saw nothing wrong with Theo, nor did your alpha but Stiles being Stiles made you built walls higher than the Empire State building, you know just incase. The thought of Theo’s eyes trailing down your body did it for you. Without your brain truly processing the thought, you found yourself walking out of Brett’s house, mind still buzzing with the thought of Theo only for a large hand to pull you back.
“Y/N, What are you doing” Brett asked, pulling you back until your back was flat against his chest.
His husky voice filled your ears as his lips though not near any skin sent shivers down your spine. Inhaling deeply to clear your thoughts backfired as the smell of a freshly rained afternoon filled your senses, heat travelling through your body gently warming you up.
“Brett, can you call Theo” you gently whispered not being able to find any strength in your voice.
Brett not understanding why you suddenly wanted Theo immediately denied your request, wrapping his arm tighter around your body.
“Brett, please call Theo” you pleaded again, your eyes flickering from it’s original colour to yellow.
Heeding your request, he gently lead you to the couch laying you down before calling Theo only for the warm, comforting feeling to turn painful.
Letting out a slow moan of pain you closed your eyes trying to block out your now enhanced senses. Crying out loudly, you arched your back off the couch as you skin had suddenly exploded into flames. Brett being startled with your outburst dropped the phone with Theo shouting out questions before hanging up, picked you up carrying you into his room. Huddling closer to his chest, finding the tiniest amount of relief as the heat shot through your body once again. Brett feeling helpless to your pain slowly ran his fingers through your hair trying to keep in control of himself until help came. Focusing on staying human proved to be extremely difficult as the pheromones escaping your body was driving his wolf insane with desire.
Brett’s ears caught the sound of his door slamming shut as hurried footsteps climbed up the stairs saving him from the brink of insanity. The door surged open as Theo’s face masked with a facade came into view. Your breeding scent assaulted his senses and the facade altered for a second as he drunk up the call of your body before putting it back up.
“Where’s Scott, where is her alpha when she is in heat?” Theo’s voice rose with the thought of an alpha leaving his unmated beta to fend for herself during her most vulnerable time.
“He’s not here. She wanted me to call you” Brett replied. Hearing the unmasked power in Theo’s voice, sent waves of heat throughout your body, pooling in between your legs. Greedy for the attention of both the boys, you let out a high pitch whine signalling your discomfort and your need for relief. Losing the fight with your primal instincts, you let the she wolf take over your body with the need to mate, though as the shewolf examined the two for a potential mate, the need for both came into play as she looked up at both and smirked.
“Scott can’t give me what I want” the shewolf stated with eyes glowing bright yellow and husk deep in her voice. ” The she wolf stood up from Brett’s bed and slowly made her way to the boys with a glint of mischief sparkling in her eyes.
“Scott’s too weak to be my mate, to give the aggression my body needs, that my body deserves.” The she wolf purred into Theo’s ear while her fingertips lightly moved across his toned body. Closing his eyes, Theo unsuccessfully tried to keep control of the situation by breathing in only to succumb to the arousal radiating off you. Slowly while keeping a firm gaze with Brett, you left a shadow of kisses down Theo’s front until you were kneeling in front of him. Breaking the gaze with Brett, you up looked up at Theo to find his eyes shut and his breathing shallow.
Bringing your hands up, you slowly unbuttoned his pants with your eyes focused still on his face for any reactions. Disappointed with the lack of reaction, you brought your hands to his boxers, palming him slowly until he let out a long needed moan. Brett watching you both walked behind you, pulling the hair away from your face, making a ponytail in his hands. Roughly pulling your head back as you looked at him through hooded eyes.
“Scott can’t give it to you rough is what your saying?” Brett stated pulling your hair back even more. Your eyes rolled back, letting out a low moan as the pain slowly turned into pleasure. A hand curled around your exposed throat causing you to grip onto Theo’s pants to tighten. Creeping up to your chin the hand firmly pulled your head down until your yellow eyes were parallel with Theo’s.
“And what will Scott do when he finds out his innocence little beta fucked two guys, one being his rival?” Theo questioned with a smirk littering his face.
“Who says Scott needs to know.” You said with your eyes big as innocent as can be. “You said it yourself, he left me by myself when I’m most vulnerable so why should he care who I fuck or in this case how many guys I fuck”. Leaning body back onto Brett’s, you wrapped your hand around Theo’s excited member slowly stroking him to heaven and back.
“Tell me Theo, you’re not afraid of Scott are you?” you egged him on, turning to Brett to give him your attention.
“What makes you think that Y/N?” Theo drawled in annoyance as he held his hand on top of your own guiding the pace of your sweet torture.
Licking a drop of precum from Brett’s member, you looked up and replied “You seem to be very reluctant to fuck me and do I dare say it’s because you’re scared of Scott finding out?”
With his eyes fully changing into yellow, Theo spread your mouth open with his fingers only for Brett to thrust himself choking you completely. Theo pulled you hair painfully with the makeshift ponytail Brett had made in the beginning as a sign for Brett to start his assault to your mouth.
“Talbot, I think our little slut needs to show her who really owns every inch of her body” Theo said as his remaining hand gripped onto one of your breasts, pinching the nipple hard. Moaning out in pain you shut your eyes to gain the full experience of the sweet torture. Theo lifting you up off your kneeling position, laid you across his lap while Brett filled your mouth with himself again. Theo caressed your cheeks softly preparing you for your punishment for egging him on. Distracted with pleasuring Brett, the unexpected pain of Theo’s hand striking you, your body jumped up with surprise and pain to feel Theo rubbing the spot he striked. Laughing at your reaction, Theo continued on and every moan of pain brought Brett closer to his own release. Flattening your tongue across his length, you rocked your head back and forth as your confidence built up with the moans and growls cascading from him. Using the vibration from your moans to send him over the brink, Brett’s member twitched and your mouth was filled with his salty essence. Brett took himself out of our mouth and you swallowed his cum, smiling at him when you were finished.
Throwing you onto the bed, Theo spread your legs wide to admire the cause of both his and Brett’s loss of control. Looking at the petal like lips dripping with sweet cream he and Brett would soon feast from. Meeting your gaze, he lowered his head and took a hefty lick from your heat. Throwing your head back, Brett attached his lips to a puffy rosebud while his hands attended to the other one. Moan after moan spilled out of your lips as Theo circled your clit with his tongue will one of his fingers slipped into your entrance adding to the pleasure you felt. A shock of pain travelled through your nerves as Brett nibbled on your nipple, alternating when he felt necessary. Both boys working together to bring you to the brink of your climax before stopping completely.
Whining out at the loss of contact, Brett laid on the bed ready for you to lay on top of him and Theo turning you on to your stomach ready for you to accommodate both boys. The heat had turned all eyes yellow and claws replaced nails. You were dripping with anticipation, reading yourself for the mating of a lifetime. Both boys dipping their members into your cream, then slowly entering into to you as you let out a howl. Grumbles from the chests of both the boys became louder and louder as the entered into you inch by inch. Feeling completely full both physically and mentally, your claws dug into Brett’s skin as he latched on to your neck.
Without any adjustment, Theo pulled himself out, teasing you with the tip to only slam himself back into your warm body. Sandwiched in between the two dominant males, you had no choice but to let them both work you from their different positions into insanity. Crying out loud when Brett found your g spot to only hit it over and over again as Theo’s hands reached under finding your clit to start tormenting it. With both boys working in sync to bring you closer and closer to your high, they both could feel your body clenching on to them, milking them of their cum. As Theo pinched your clit, you threw your head back as euphoria took over every inch of your body.
Slumped onto Brett, the boys made you ride out your orgasm and continued thrusting as their growls got louder and louder. Theo’s claws dug into your hips and Brett bit into your neck as their thrusts got sloppier filling you further than ever before. Feeling the boys twitch, you aided with their efforts as you clenched around them over and over again until Brett released his teeth from your neck, letting out a moan while releasing himself inside of you only for Theo to release a few thrusts after.
The dark room was filled with panting and the smell of sweat and sex. Theo pulled himself out of you as you rolled of Brett laying exhausted next to him. Snuggling into Brett, you opened your eyes to see Theo dressing himself only to say “remember to keep this our dirty little secret” to Theo before sleep took you from consciousness.
Tears blind your eyes as you watch his chest rise and fall, oxygen entering his body with the assistance of a machine. For a man whose body is manipulated to be strong and agile at the zenith of human potential, he looks frail and weak lying on the hospital bed with all of the needles poking into him.
“BUCKY, PLEASE!” you screamed, voice laced in pain. You latched yourself onto the ledge, hoping that pushing off the small concrete wall would give you more support. Panicked adrenaline pumped through your body as you grabbed Bucky’s hand with all of the strength you could muster.
Bucky looked up, a sad calmness reflecting in his eyes. It was scary he didn’t look like a man who’s dangling off the edge of a tall building. It was as if he was ready for the imminent conclusion of his life. His eyes were tired, a result of the wary defeat that had emotionally pounded him into pieces. Somehow he mustered up a small smile.
You fiddle with the simple band on your left finger, distracting yourself from the tears fighting to stream down your cheek. Leaning your side against the glass window, you take another systematically deep breath, your ribcage hurting as you force yourself to inhale and exhale.
Sweat beaded on your forehead as you pleaded for him to keep hanging on. “Place your foot on that structure and swing your body over! I’ll pull you over and - Oh God, please Bucky! Please don’t give up now!”
“Doll, just let go,” Bucky exclaimed. “I don’t belong here and -”
Blood rushed through your ears and your eyes darkened with desperate anger. “Don’t let go! Please don’t let go! I am begging you!”
A strong gust of wind blew by and you screamed as Bucky’s body visibly sways. “BUCKY!”
Sherlock/Harry Potter crossover. Part 2 was requested, so here you go! Glad you liked the first one xx
Draco Malfoy x Sociopath
can’t love…” He says, “And you’ve deduced me again, so you know that I love
you. You’ve pieced all together already I can see it in our face, you know when
it started, how it grew.” He rubs his face with his hands, “And you can’t
Draco Malfoy’s words echo through your head
over and over again, as you sit in DADA, blocking the pink lady’s words from
penetrating your mind (Nothing comes out of her mouth that is worth your Mind
Palace). Every time you think about Draco, you get this foreign feeling of your
stomach twisting, but you ignore it. His confession has probably got your
hormones starting to mess with you, it’ll be over after a few days.
You both stopped walking. Your legs were aching and your breath was heavy, it was such a long ride. You were almost there though, but it seemed that you’d been walking for ages, especially because you hadn’t talked much for some reason. He’d tried to talk to you, to cheer you up like he always did with everyone, but it hadn’t worked, not this time, not with you. It was driving him crazy, he felt so useless.
The two of you turned around at the same time to look at the tracks of your feet that were slowly fading away already. It was an endless white valley that became one with the sky in the horizon.
Snowflakes fell softly but nonstop all over the place adorning your hair in their way to the ground. You hadn’t even noticed nor either care, but he had.
He’d never seen anything quite like this in his whole life. The scene was completely delightful, you looked so stunning with the wind gently blowing your hair and your cheeks pink because of how cold it was. You were shivering and trying to hide it unsuccessfully, you just wanted to get home (if you could call it that).
I have said this before and I will continue to say it: YOU GUYS AMAZE ME!!
Back in September when I posted my first fic, I never EVER in a million years would have guessed I would be here today, with 1,000 of you wonderful, supportive, amazing followers. Your words of encouragement are what keep me going each and every day!
Before I get to the fun stuff, I want to take the time to thank some of the people that have continually shown their support and encouragement, and most of all love. I know I am going to miss some, so I do apologize in advance.
Hey Lottie!! How are you doing sweetie?! I've never sent a prompt before I'm kind of nervous /o/ but I've been having a really rough few days since I've been pretty ill and I was wondering if you could write some sick!Kylux for me?? Maybe Hux having feverish dreams and Kylo just helping out? If you want to 💕💕
darling! I hope you feel better soon!
Even after the nights where he’s drank more than his body
weight in brandy, Hux has never felt so rotten.
Wearing only his underwear, he sits upright in bed, duvet
and sheets confiscated from his shivering body by Kylo ‘medic’s orders’ Ren. Funny,
Hux had thought; he’s sure Kylo has never followed an order in his life.
Hux swallows hard, leaning his head back against the
headboard of his bed, closing his eyes, body riddled with exhaustion. It’s a
fever, the medics had told him, contracted from a recent planetiside mission. Young
Armitage had suffered with fevers when he was a boy, sickly and weak with a
poor immune system. Seemingly, older Armitage is no better.
“Here,” Kylo says, coming back into the room with some iced
tea. “You need to drink.”
Hux grumbles something in another language before taking
the cup in his shaking hands, having to hold it in his two palms, struggling to
summon the strength to grip.
“I can make you some food if you want,” Kylo says, sitting
down on the side of the bed, being cautious not to get too close as to share
his body heat.
“I’m not hungry,” Hux says, swallowing the tea with a heavy
gulp. “How long before I can have more medication?”
“Two hours,” Kylo says, and Hux groans in protest. “It’d be
best if you could sleep until then.”
“I can’t sleep. Everything hurts.”
“Is that how your body feels or are you giving me a philosophical
take on life?” Kylo says, smiling to himself, but Hux doesn’t find it amusing. “Sorry.
Just try and nap, Hux, alright? Sleep is the body’s way of recovering naturally.”
Hux wants to protest but is much too weak to do anything but slide down
the bed until he’s lying flat, eyes already drifting closed. Kylo rubs his
forearm gently, standing off the bed, turning their air conditioning up a
If he were well, Hux would
have made a snide comment about the mighty Kylo Ren turning soft at his
expense, but Hux merely drifts off into a heavy sleep, and becomes lost in his
He feels as though he’s
only been asleep for a few moments before he bolts awake, finding himself in
exactly the same position he’d been in when he’d fallen asleep. Sitting up
slowly as not to aggravate his headache, Hux rubs his tired eyes, admitting to
himself that he feels slightly better,
a little lighter of ache.
“Ren?” He calls out,
supposing he should let his partner know that he’s awake.
But to Hux’s dismay, there’s
no reply. Surely, Hux thinks, Kylo wouldn’t have left him alone even for a
moment whilst he was sleeping. The darling
Knight has been fussing like a mother hen all week over Hux and his fever,
yet abandons him when he’s in his
most vulnerable state.
Hux looks to the
chronometer on the bedside table, but finds it reads 00:00, a whole nine hours ahead of the time it was when he fell
Gingerly, on shaking
knees, Hux gets out of bed and trudges through to the main chamber, finding it
empty, no sign of Kylo anywhere. Before Hux can call for him again, his skin
prickles as though being touched by a ghost hand, its invisible fingers gliding
up his forearm and sending his body into shivers.
Something is wrong.
“Ren?” Hux shouts. His
mind is suddenly overcome with a familiar presence, though its agonised aura
only fuels Hux’s panic.
‘The bridge,’ comes Kylo’s pained voice in his mind. ‘Hurry, Hux. Need you. Dying…’
“No, Ren!” Hux says aloud,
legs weakening when Kylo’s voice leaves him.
What could have possibly
happened in the mere hours that Hux has been unconscious? Grabbing his
greatcoat from where it hangs on his closet door, Hux pulls it on, wanting to
cover the fact that he’s only in his underwear. He storms out of his quarters,
ignoring his own fever, concentrating on Kylo’s fading presence.
The bridge. He has to get to the bridge. Hux knows
the halls of the Finalizer like the
back of his hand; every nook and every route is embedded deep in his mind. He
could find the bridge in his sleep—
But he isn’t asleep, is
Regardless of how hard he
tries, Hux finds himself running in circles. Every corridor has melded
together, creating an unfathomable maze where the prize at the centre is
unreachable, at that prize is Kylo.
‘I need you, Hux. Why won’t you help me? I’ve given my life to you and
you’re letting me die.’
Kylo’s voice echoes not
only in Hux’s mind this time but across the empty corridors of his ship,
taunting Hux like a mouse in a labyrinth.
“Ren, no! Hold on, I’m trying,
I won’t let go—”
Kylo’s begs and screams
for Hux to save him suddenly fill the silence and Hux runs, trying to find his way to his dying lover but only comes
across dead ends and the same halls. Hyperventilation soon consumes him, and
Hux falls to his knees, cluching his head as he feels the darkness coming for
“No, no, Ren, please, I
need you, don’t leave me—”
Hux curls in on himself,
trembling, feeling his soul shatter from the most intense failure of his life.
‘Hux? Hux, I’m here!’
Kylo’s voice is different
this time; there’s no pain, only panic mixed with a tenderness that never fails
to soothe his turbulent mind.
around Hux fades to black, and he opens his eyes, expecting to find himself
still huddled in a lonely corridor, but instead, finds himself lying in his
bed, Kylo looming over him with wide and worried eyes.
“Ren? You’re here,” Hux gasps, chest heaving.
“Stars, Hux,” Kylo
exclaims, brushing his hand through Hux’s hair. “You were screaming for me,
telling me to hold on.”
“No—You were gone, I
couldn’t get to you,” Hux huffs, exhausted and confused, looking around the
room, seeing the chronometer blinking 18:32
at him. “I…woke up and you were gone.”
“Hux, I haven’t left your
side,” Kylo says softly. “You were dreaming, sweetheart. You’re alright. I’m alright.”
“Oh, Ren,” Hux says, hugging Kylo tightly, crying into his shoulder,
fearing that letting go would mean something awful.
Lucas wasn’t exactly the same as he used to be, at least not until he got into that machine.
Deciding to enlist in the army didn’t include having to become a scientific experiment but it seems like there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his country. Not only that, but what the Nazis were doing to people made him physically sick. So incredibly sick that he would do anything just to stop them. Even deciding to go into a machine without knowing what the finished product would be.
He had so many doubts about his decision, and those doubts still remain now that he’s gone through with it. He feels stronger, faster, heavier, taller, but at the same time he feels powerless and weak, like the way he used to when he was in front of the biggest bullies at his high school. He thought coming out of the machine would bring him what he’d always hoped: respect, confidence, courage. But if anything he was in a worse position from when he started.
No one wants a lab rat to fight a war for them; that’s what his fellow soldiers tell him before they venture off into the war zone without him. And Lucas thinks maybe they’re right.