Private Tournaments - Chapter 1 - QueenoftheUniverse (TyphoonTiak18) - Kingdom Hearts (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

Woah, new fic just dropped. And it’s all about fighting? Crazy

One Night Chapter 27

Glen’s POV

I push Jake’s stroller as Beth and I walk through the park it was a warm spring morning and Jake was cooing softly as he took in the world around him. I smile as she squeezes my hand “he’s happy being outside.” I grin and look down at him as he kicks his feet happily “he’s going to be an outdoor boy for sure.” I tell her I loved being able to go to the park and going for walks with him and Beth. It was a different part of fitness than what I was used to it was slower and not as intense but it was still just as rewarding I kiss Beth’s head softly as we continue walking around the track. I glance around making sure that there wasn’t anyone around trying to get pictures of Jake, Beth and I had talked and we wanted to be the only ones posting him we didn’t want cameras to be constantly shoved in his face and I would do anything to keep that from happening.

Beth’s POV

After our trip to the park Glen stops at a Mexican Restaurant for lunch while we wait for our food I start giving Jake a bottle I look over at Glen curiously. “How’s the search for the rental house in Oklahoma going?’ he sips his iced tea before answering "A few promising ones I found a nice cozy brick house big living room, for Jake’s things and a nice bedroom for us.” I smile a bit at his answer. “That one sounds nice I think it would be right for us I don’t need anything grand while we are there just being with you is enough for me.” I tell him as I reach out and squeezes his hand he grins then rubs mine gently. “I want you and Jake comfortable pretty girl that’s what matters to me if this is the one you like "I’ll go and fill out the lease and put down the deposit.” We had figured out where we would be staying one less thing to worry about and plan as we continued to get everything together.

Glen’s POV

When we get home that afternoon and Beth gets Jake down  for his nap I walk up behind her then kiss over the side of her neck lightly she tilts her head to the side then leans back against me. I run my hands over her side and slowly push up the end of her shirt before brushing m fingers over the bare skin “Why don’t we have a little time to ourselves?” I ask her softly as I squeeze her hips gently then she turns and looks up at me. “I think that sounds like  a great idea.” She tells me softly before kissing over my jaw and nipping my skin lightly I groan softly and take her hand before leading her down the hall to our bedroom we step inside then I kiss her and bite down on her bottom lip. She moans softly before jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist I groan before quickly going over to the bed and laying her back I look her over slowly God she was beautiful.

Beth’s POV

I curl up next to Glen and lay my head on his shoulder he starts rubbing my side lightly I relax and let out a content sigh. “What’s it going to be like when you’re filming?” I ask him curiously he thinks for a moment then looks over at me “Probably alot of busy days and some light nights but I don’t want you to worry I"ll make sure that you and Jake can visit me and when I’m off I will spend as much time with the two of you as I possibly can.” I kiss his shoulder gently before squeezing his hand. “i’m looking forward to seeing this part of your life and watching you work it’s going to be a new experience for me seeing a whole movie being made and I know you will spend time with us.” I tell him softly. I couldn’t wait to have these new moments and experiences as a family and be able to look back on these moments one day.

@hunterthecharmer @friedchips94 @djs8891 @coloraturadiva @elliekayfiction @rootedinrevisions @bykaitlynann

His Second Chance Chapter 32

MARCH

Tyler’s POV

I look up as Heather sits down next to me I was looking at a few things for the truck with storm season coming soon and a few storms already popping up here and there I wanted to be prepared. I reach out and rub her stomach gently then smile when I feel Henry moving and kicking “How’s our little wrangler?” I ask her softly she puts her hand over mine “he’s very active today he must sense what’s coming like you.” She teases me playfully I chuckle then wrap an arm around her and kiss her head. “I know you aren’t due until July you think you might be able to go on a few chases with us?” I ask her hopeful she lays her head on my shoulder and takes a deep breath before looking up at me. “I will try to go on a few until June then I’ll rest before Henry gets here.” A few chases were good enough for me I didn’t want to be away from her and I would make sure she stayed safe on the road.

Boone’s POV

We meet at Tyler and Heather’s one afternoon while the others and Tyler were talking about new equipment and the things that needed to be worked on I sit down next to Heather “How are you feeling?” I ask her as I hand her a glass of water. She smiles and sips it slowly “I’m feeling pretty good Boone Henry is constantly growing and moving around in there.” I chuckle softly and lean back in my chair. “He sounds like Tyler already we are going to have two fearless leaders running around.” Heather laughs “Two Tylers could be a bad and a good thing I tell Henry about all of you all the time I want him to know about his aunts and uncles.” She tells me and I smile a bit surprised. I was excited about meeting Henry and being an uncle most of the time I was go with the flow but this was something that I was taking very seriously.

Lily’s POV

I walk over to Heather with a package in my hand she looks at me curiously as I hand it to her “This is something that we all came up with” I tell her as she begins to open it, she holds up a purple shirt that has a tornado on it and written in black were the words “Mama Wrangler.” She hugs me tightly “I love it thank you.” She tells me sincerely I look at her. “Tyler said if people like this shirt and we start selling it really well the money from this shirt will go to help families buy baby supplies that are lost during the storms.” I tell her we had all thought of a way to help people and to also do something for Heather. She puts the shirt down “Thank you Lily this really means a lot to me.” She tells me and I smile at her “We wanted to do something nice for you.” I couldn’t wait for our fans that were also moms to start ordering this shirt.

Heather’s POV

That evening I walk out on the porch and sit in a chair next to Tyler I reach out and hold his hand “Thank you for what you and the team are doing with the mama wrangler shirts I’m glad we will be able to help with baby supplies.” I tell him softly. He looks up at me and meets my gaze “I figured it was time you got your own shirt and I know that if we lost things in a storm that Henry needed we would want people to help us.” I smile and squeeze his hand then sigh and relax I was happy he had created a shirt for me it meant I was really part of this team I look back at him. “I love you.” He grins and squeezes my hand gently before kissing it softly “I love you too darlin.”

@hunterthecharmer @friedchips94 @djs8891 @coloraturadiva @elliekayfiction @rootedinrevisions @bykaitlynann

Question for fanfic readers

So I’ve been working on a story that was originally a one shot but I’ve made a follow up for it. Now my question for readers is would you prefer a story that was a one shot that has a follow up to remain a one shot with a part two or would a reader be more inclined to see a second part added to the original story making it a multi-chapter fic instead? I know it isn’t a big deal either way, but I would love other opinions on it. That being said I’m going to toss in a poll and see if anyone has any thoughts on the subject.

A Beautiful Lie / A Perfect Denial

Chapter 2 of In This Pool of Blood, I’ll Meet Your Eyes

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ren replied, finally tearing his gaze away from the backpack that wasn’t there. He hadn’t bothered trying to sound convinced, and Goro couldn’t fault him for it. It was unsettling, as most things had become in this reality. The posies Maruki stuffed into everyone’s pockets weren’t enough to distract from the plague running rampant. The city may have felt life-like, but it was no longer alive. It was the embalmed corpse of a society on display. In the back of his mind, he wondered what the odds were that reanimating it wouldn’t result in Tokyo becoming Frankenstein’s monster.

Link <3

Crazy Train Chapter 5

Raven’s POV

The following week was one of the busiest of my life as I started creating my first album I poured my heart and soul into every lyric and note the songs I came up with were parts of my life and experiences. My emotions and wanting to give people the chance to see that music could heal, inspire and connect every day I worked my parents were right there next to me, one afternoon once I finished up Gene met with the three of us he looked at me. “I know that style figures into this as well Ozzy knows that too you have the same edgy goth appearance that he does but I want you to make it your own as well.” I look at him and continue listening to his idea “I want her to keep it as she launches her own career it blends the past and the present together.” My parents share a glance with each other, my mother was studying me carefully as she thinks then she answers. “I think that’s a wonderful idea she needs something recognizable that’s instantly hers.” I smile a bit as Gene chuckles softly “I think connecting her to her musical roots would be a huge part of what makes her stand out.” He turns to my father and they share a look and I knew they were thinking the same thing when he spoke again. “When she steps out on that stage she won’t just be a performer in her own right she will be keeping your legacy alive and the spirit of rebellion.” I think about his words I wanted to inspire people I wanted to add my own voice to all of the ones who had came before me including my father, Gene and Paul I wasn’t doing this only for me I was doing this for them as well.

Sharon’s POV

Over the next few days Raven threw herself into her creative process she worked tirelessly to keep coming up with more new material while she worked I tried to be as helpful as possible I walk through the kitchen and move hers and Ozzy’s sketchbooks around then glance down at one of her drawings. There was a large black dragon against a red back drop I sit and study it for a moment then it hits me this was it this was what she needed for the cover of her first album it was fierce just like her, and dark and edgy like Ozzy plus it was so vivid I knew it would draw people’s attention. The dragon commanded respect which is what she needed to do I smile I couldn’t wait to share the idea I had with her,people seeing her art work and hearing her song it would be the perfect way to start.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Jack’s POV

I groan as I walk into the kitchen where my parents were sittingfor the last two weeks Raven had been throwing herself into her music she had recently added in undertones of metal, my other sister was in the other part of the house working on her pop music the two were worlds apart from each other I rub my face as I sit across from my mom and dad. “Can they not try to tone it down a little bit I’m trying to sleep” My father looks at me “Raven is just getting warmed up and Kelly is on her way to becoming a real popstar.” Just then the two of them walk downstairs I roll my eyes when my parents smile at them. “I can’t focus on anything.” Raven looked at me sincerely “I’m sorry about waking you up Jack but this is really important to me but I will tone it down for today and tomorrow.” I take a deep breath and relax she had always been more reasonable than Kelly I squeeze her hand. ‘Thank you for understanding.“ She smiles a bit "Go on get back to sleep.” I nod then leave the kitchen and head back to my room feeling grateful for at least one sister.

@hunterthecharmer @friedchips94 @djs8891 @coloraturadiva @elliekayfiction @rootedinrevisions @crossskylinesandcontrails

if i wrote a multi-chapter series on criminal minds with a female character would yous read it or would i be wasting my time lol 🤨

like my writing so far on this account is half arsed but if i try personally i think its pretty good, ill post an eg if you’d like

Crazy Train Chapter 2

ONE WEEK LATER

Raven’s POV

I walk next to my father behind stage KISS was performing tonight Gene and my father had been close friends for years at one point they had even opened for my dad and he had invited us to the show tonight, the group of men look up at us when we approach them. Gene stepped forward and pulled my father into a tight hug, he hugged back and patted him on the back before turning to Paul and hugging him as well they talk for a few moments before Gene turns toward me and chuckles softly. “This one looks more and more like you every time I see her except she’s prettier you have Sharon to thank for that.” He teases with a chuckle my father wraps his arm around my shoulder “She’s going to reach this level one day watch and see.” He told them confidently I only hoped that he was right.

Ozzy’s POV

Later during the show  as Gene and the other performed the audience was shouting and going crazy but the guys always gave a really good show I look over at Raven who was full of energy and bouncing along with the music, as they played her favorite songs she sang along with every word I wanna Rock and Roll all night, her biggest favorite I was made for lovin you. The way her eyes were sparkling I could tell how happy she was I knew that even in that moment watching some of my friends play our bond was growing stronger the passion we had for the music and the two of us having this time together was better than anything, I was going to cherish this night for the rest of my life I only hoped that she would do the same.

Raven’s POV

As the show continued they begin another one of my favorite songs God gave Rock and Roll to you, Gene walks over to the microphone “We have some special friends with us here tonight and I would like to ask one of them to come out and join us for this song Raven I know this one is one of your favorites come on out here.” My heart starts pounding in my chest I could hear the crowd cheering I look up at my father nervously. “Dad” I say softly I had never sang in front of people before he grins then gives me a gentle push “You can do this my little rock princess I know you can.” I take a deep breath then walk out to Gene and Paul I take in the bright lights and thousands of people then step up to the mic.

Ozzy’s POV

I look out at my little girl I knew this was a big moment for her and that right now she was probably anxious but this was a huge opportunity for her it could even kick start her music career as she started to sing her voice rang out clear and strong. Her voice was her own but I could hear a little bit of my own sound in there as well I was so thrilled and proud of her as stood on that stage soon she was losing herself in the music just like I knew she would, with a final guitar riff the song ends and the crowd erupts into a thunderous roar she had done it she had taken her first step. She looked at me with a huge smile on her face, I clap for my girl as Gene and Paul both squeeze her shoulders and I knew they saw the same thing I did the future generation.

Sharon’s POV

I look up from my book and notice how excited Ozzy and Raven are he was so thrilled and it made him harder to understand she walks over then squeezes my hand tightly  “Gene brought me out on stage tonight and I got to sing mum for the first time in front of an audience!!” she tells me excited I look up at Ozzy once he sits down in a chair “She was bloody brilliant tonight she had the energy she was perfect out there.” I smile at the two of them I squeeze Raven’s hand “I’m so proud of you my darling girl for taking your first step tonight I know that you’re fixing to start your own journey and you’ll be going places I’m so happy for you.” She was going to be a star just like Ozzy

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Crazy Train Chapter 1

Ozzy’s POV

I was sitting in the kitchen doodling in a sketch pad I look up when I hear footsteps I smile when I see it’s Raven the daughter that took after me, her black hair my passion for rock and roll, my personality Sharon always swore that she was my twin and I was thrilled that one of my children were like me. I take in her attire she was in dark leggings and a KISS t-shirt they were a favorite of her and Gene  had been a friend of the family for years, Raven smiles as she begins to make a cup of her favorite tea “Morning dad.” she said happily. “Good morning what do you have going on today?” I ask her curiously she thinks for a moment “I might work on some lyrics and play on my guitar later?” I nod I had faith that one day she would take the music world by storm.

Raven’s POV

Later that afternoon I was sitting outside in the garden jotting down lyrics and trying out a few different things on my guitar I hear my dad let out a sigh as I hear Jack and Kelli begin arguing from inside the house. I laugh softly when he mumbles to himself “Bloody Hell those two can’t go two minutes without tying into each other.” It was true they argued a lot but for the most part I did my best to stay out of it. He looks at me “I know that all three of you are my kids but it blows my mind at how different the three of you are.” He reaches over and squeezes my knee “Even in our own family it takes all kinds including you my little peace keeper.” He says smiling before standing and making his way into the house to see what they were fighting about.

Sharon’s POV

I peek in the living room later that evening and see Ozzy working with Raven on some of her lyrics she had always wanted to make him proud and please him I loved all of our children equally but I knew she was the one who wanted to honor his legacy the most. She had the same fire and passion that he did so if she decided to go public with her music she would be amazing but I knew that she was hard on herself she didn’t want to share anything until it was absolutely perfect. I was going to support her dreams and hopes to follow in his footsteps then once she was ready the two of us would be there with her no matter what path she decided to take in life.

Author’s note: Special thanks to @CrossFandomSkylines for making my cover for me

@hunterthecharmer @friedchips94 @djs8891 @coloraturadiva @echoingbirdsofprey @rootedinrevisions @crossskylinesandcontrails

I Think Heaven Has A Plot To Take My Life

Chapter 1 of In This Pool of Blood, I’ll Meet Your Eyes

“Aw, were you disappointed we couldn’t go on a Christmas date?“ Akechi asked condescendingly. Ren thought about punching the smug look off his face. Or, at least, delivering a verbal equivalent. That was what they did, after all. They taunted, and they teased, and they hid their feelings behind twelve layers of plausible deniability because god forbid they ever be straightforward with each other. But Ren was too tired for games and too happy Akechi was alive to joke, so the only thing he said before dragging him into a kiss was a simple ‘yes.’

Link <3

In This Pool of Blood, I’ll Meet Your Eyes

A Third Semester Psychological Horror

A powder keg can feel indistinguishable from a chair if you’re forced to sit on one long enough.

What would happen if the Phantom Thieves didn’t wake up, Lavenza revealed Goro wasn’t actually dead, and Ren’s patience for people manipulating him was at an all-time low?

★ Chapter 1

★ Chapter 2

Un Cambio, Sobre Ruedas

This is the first part of I don’t know how many of my version of season 4. I won’t post it on AO3 for now because I might edit later. I do have to warn that there is a character death and Luna is in a dark place. This part focuses on Luna and Matteo, next one will focus on Ámbar and Simón.

Three years after graduating Blake South College, Luna has everything she could ever wish for. That’s what she tells herself at least. But after a life changing event, she has to rethink everything and find out what really matters in life.

Luna’s world was crumbling. It started out as a good day but that quickly turned around when Ámbar, her cousin who felt more like a sister now, called. She thought it was just her weekly call but it was more than that. 

Now she found herself packing in her hotel room. She just finished her last competition of the season with her skating partner. They didn’t win but that didn’t matter anymore, she was too distracted to evaluate their performance. She was in a hurry to go to the airport, booking a ticket was the first thing she did once she got the news.

A knock came on her door and she yelled: “Come in!”

“Are you ready to go back to Buenos Aires?” Ramiro said as he walked in, he was already packed, ready to support his skating partner as they went back home.

“I’m not but it’s where I need to be. It’s going to be so different,” she answered and looked down to control her tears.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now but I’ll be here for you just like everyone else, you’re not alone,” Ramiro encouraged her.

He didn’t like seeing her like that, they’ve gotten close over the past three years since they started skating together professionally. It seemed to just work out after Luna decided to go pro after graduating high school. He wanted the same thing and they trained to see if they could work as a skating couple and they did. They traveled together a lot to international competitions with Juliana who was still their trainer.

The more time they spent together, the more they became friends. They even started hanging out outside of the training sessions. In the beginning, Matteo would hang out with them from time to time, but that faded when he and Luna broke up about two years ago. Ramiro still talks to him occasionally but it wasn’t the same as before. Matteo kept himself busy, focusing on his career. Ramiro assumed he was so caught up in his singing career to distract himself from thinking about Luna.

“You’re right, we should get going. We need to catch our flight,” Luna said, interrupting his train of thought.

Before they knew it, they were on a plane heading back to Buenos Aires, ready to face whatever terrible things were waiting for them.

***

The plane ride home took a few hours, Ramiro was asleep so Luna was left with nothing but her thoughts. 

She didn’t expect to have such a successful career in skating, she didn’t expect to get this far, but she had people around her that helped. She would have never gotten this far without them, she was living her dream. She had everything she wanted, except for maybe one thing but she wasn’t going to dwell on that.

She had bigger things to think about at the moment. She had been feeling anxious since the plane took off and Ramiro noticed. He tried to calm her down several times but nothing worked so he decided to take a nap to prepare him. Luna dreaded what was about to come.

***

Matteo couldn’t believe this was happening. He never expected any of this. There was a lot going on in his mind, he thought he wouldn’t care about Luna but ever since he heard the news, he did nothing but worry about her. He thought he was over her, at least, that’s what he made himself believe. This latest news shook his world and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

It was a coincidence that he was in Buenos Aires when it happened but Simón told him while he was rehearsing and it hit him hard. It wasn’t just the news but it was also the fact that Luna will be here at the same time as him. He used to do anything to avoid that before but he couldn’t now, he had to stay. He had to make sure she was okay. But that also meant he had to face the one thing he was running away from for two years now.

Everything happened so fast, one minute he was working on his new song and then suddenly Simón stormed into the recording studio, visibly upset. Matteo knew whatever brought him here wasn’t good.

Everyone loved Alfredo, he was always present. He came to every competition and show he could here in Buenos Aires and if any performance was abroad, he followed the livestream.

Even though his relationship with his father was better since Matteo got to do what he wanted, there was still a distance between them.

Alfredo was the one who bridged that distance by being a good grandfather. Matteo and him got closer while he was still with Luna. They had many dinners together. Even after they broke up, they kept having dinner with just the two of them and away from everyone else, sometimes even over zoom if his job brought him out of the city.

Alfredo could see he needed the company since he was distancing himself from everyone since things ended between him and Luna. He never asked what happened because he knew Matteo refused to talk about it. It felt good and it was always the highlight of the week for him.

They only had dinner just last night. Matteo was thinking back on the event and he knew then something was up because Alfredo was acting differently, like he was already saying goodbye. Matteo thought it was odd but he just assumed it was because he was leaving Buenos Aires in just a few days for a show in another part of Argentina.

He was speechless when he heard the news, he hadn’t spoken ever since, his mind was turning and turning. Everything was about to change. But in what way?

***

Her parents were supposed to pick Luna and Ramiro up. They were waiting right outside of the airport but Luna couldn’t move from baggage claim. Ramiro was trying to talk to her but nothing registered. Luna’s world stood still. She’s used to seeing the bright side of things but right now, she couldn’t see anything but darkness and that scared her the most.

How was she ever getting past this? Alfredo was the closest link to her past as Sol Benson and now she’s lost it. There was Sharon, sure, but any conversation about her biological parents was awkward and forced. Luna always thought her aunt wasn’t telling her everything but she never pushed for more. Her grandfather tried a few times but always failed, someone always interrupted.

Luna took one deep breath and was aware of her surroundings again. The airport was crowded, it made her feel safe in a way because she didn’t feel alone like this.

Luna realized, as soon as she walked out of this airport, everything was going to change but in what way?

on this day [eight years ago]

why is this love such a shame and so tamed? by softlyspoken/@kellykadesperate

rating: teen and up

status: complete

word count: 9.8k

summary: it starts with robert’s birthday, and jack showing his face and his feelings too and soon everyone’s knowing what he did.

Golden Chain of Fate
CHAPTER 5 - Reluctantly Repaired

CHAPTER 0 - Flash-forward ✧ CHAPTER 1 - Your Fated One ✧ CHAPTER 2 - Crystal Clear ✧ CHAPTER 3 - Memory of a Monster ✧ CHAPTER 4 - The Words Between the Pages ✧ CHAPTER 4.5 - Double Ouroboros

DS1 Higgs ✧ f!reader ✧ no use of y/n ✧ can also be found on Ao3

synopsis: It took the death of your family for your DOOMs to fully manifest itself, and it brought with it, a golden cord of fate. It was connected to the person that fate had decided was your destiny, the one that was your other half, your eternal love. But as it turns out, you should have realised why they call having DOOMs “suffering”, because fate had decided to be cruel. You weren’t connected with a cord. No - it was a chain, forever tethering you to a man you could never love.

overall content warning: swearing, explicit sexual content, eventual smut, dubious consent, unrequited love, unhealthy relationship, threats of violence/sexual violence, abduction, held against your will, obsessive behaviour, manipulative behaviour, forced relationship, descriptions of canonical child abuse (physical/implied sexual), hurt no comfort, injury detail, descriptions of self-harm scars (additional tags to be added & each chapter lists its specific warnings)

Another long one, I’m sorry! It managed to be this long, even after I decided to split it into two parts. Also, turns out the little boy on the Beach was correct, you have no recollection of the dream you had in the last chapter.

Not long now until Sammy-boy makes his cameo (as teased in CHAPTER 0 - Flash-Forward). That’ll be Chapter 8. But don’t worry, you’re going to be fed well until then, cause boy oh boy chapters 6 & 7 will be angsty (chapter 7 will be angsty and smutty)

As always, if you’d like to be on a taglist, please let me know! Sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone! (Also let me know if you no longer want to be tagged, I won’t be offended) @thehouseoflore, @whateversnice, @marsonthemoon000, @necromantiste, @kymarmstrong, @higgshub, @nothingthere2see, @sanguis-ghouls-blog, @ohnogovno

chapter synopsis: After an attack leaves you injured, you wake to find you’ve been rescued by your self-proclaimed “husband”, who unfortunately for you, is very excited that he gets to play doctor.

chapter specific warnings: sfw - references to smut but no actual sex scene ✧ multiple descriptions of self-harm scars, reference to Higgs’ canonical child abuse, reference to implied past suicide attempt, injury detail

CHAPTER 5 - Reluctantly Repaired

The dull ache in your abdomen quickly grew sharp thorns as your body awoke from a slumber that you suspect may have been artificially induced. As your eyes struggled to adjust to the light, you felt a tightness in your abdomen, a pain radiating outwards from the soft part of your waist, just above your right hip. You winced, the pain only escalating in severity as you slowly sat up, your abdomen seeming to pulse with its own heartbeat under the pressure of what you could only assume were layers of thick bandages and gauze. 

The fuck? Where the hell am I? 

Your head spinning, your vision still blurry, you attempted to take in your surroundings. You were clearly in a bunker, the layout slightly different from your own, but still one of the unmistakable, rinse and repeat layouts of bunkers built within the UCA. It also wasn’t Higgs’ bunker seeing that this one had a bed with an actual mattress, two beds in fact, not that pathetic excuse for a bed that Higgs somehow managed to fit his disgusting gangly body on. This one was showing signs of disrepair and it was clear that it had been re-inhabited after some time sitting empty. The sparse furnishing and lack of decor made you assume that this wasn’t someone’s permanent living situation, and more of a temporarily inhabited space. The size of the room was similar to the main room in Higgs’ bunker, the bed you were on was mirrored by another against the opposite wall, but you’re not sure what else there was —  

Fuckkkk. You made the mistake of twisting your body to see what else the room had on offer. You grunted as you stilled, letting the pain subside as much as you could before you slowly turned your entire body instead, moving to sit with your back against the cold steel wall, your legs curled up on the bed next to you. The throbbing pain in your abdomen had unfortunately now reached your head, your vision pulsing at the edges as you gently massaged your temples. Your mind was hazy as you tried to remember what had led up to you being in this situation. 

What the fuck happened? How did I — 

Oh.

Your attempt to understand your current predicament caused images to flash in your mind. Flashes of memories, only half remembered and half clear. You could only make out a few details. 

You’d been on a delivery. There were trees overhead. The sound of footsteps approaching, crunching leaves. Multiple sets of footsteps. MULEs, armed with electric rods. Strangely dressed for MULEs? Five of them. You were grabbed but you fought back, attempting to draw the tranquilliser pistol from within your cargo. A searing pain brings you to your knees. An electric shock? Yes, you’d been hit an electric rod but — no, wait — hang on. Blood? From an electric shock? No. What? No, it wasn’t the shock that had taken you down. The rod had pierced you. It felt like you’d lost a chunk of your waist. Blood on your hands. Blood soaking into your jumpsuit. MULEs circled around you, closing in. But then blood shoots out from one of their temples? You didn’t do that did you? No, you never managed to draw your pistol. More gunshots ring out, another oddly dressed MULE falling to the ground. Who was shooting — oh no. Hell no. Fucking hell. There’s a flash of gold that you’d recognise anywhere. The fuck was Higgs there for? He crouched in front of you, reassuring you. “It’s okay, I’ve got ya now, you’re —” *Splat* Fuck — blood shoots out from Higgs’ neck? A bullet pieced him straight through. He tries to tell you it’ll be okay, his voice distorted as blood fills his lungs. But then he collapses onto your lap? You feel your golden cord disappear as a stabbing pain claws where it was once connected? What?

Hang on.

Wait. What?

So Higgs fucking died? 

As your forehead furrowed in confusion, you realise that none of what you remember helps explain where you were right now. Sure, it explains the injury, but how did you get here? Where was here? And who patched you up? What the actual fuck? Your eyes dart down to your chest to find the golden cord is still there, buzzing like static against your sternum, worming its way through the air like it had never left, disappearing out somewhere beyond the door.

You hated to admit it to yourself, and you never would to Higgs, but its presence was incredibly comforting. You actually felt relieved that it was still there, because the sensation you’d felt when it vanished had been unbearable, a feeling akin to heartache and loss but multiplied by a thousand. When Higgs had died and the cord had disappeared, it had felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. You’d never felt like that before, and you never wanted to again. Fuck. You took a deep breath, telling yourself that the horrible heartache you’d felt, in no way meant that your heart was broken by that assholes death, it would have happened with anyone, it had nothing to do with it being him. And no, your relief was most certainly not relief for him maybe still being alive, it was relief that the horrible feeling was finally gone. 

But what did it mean that the cord was still here? Was it connected to his corpse? You ran your fingers through it, feeling it buzz comfortably warm and familiar, and before you could further contemplate what it meant that it had returned — a ghost walked into the room. 

“Mornin’ beautiful. Well, it ain’t actually mornin’, but you sure have been asleep for a while. I was startin’ to worry that I’d end up a widower.” 

Higgs’ smug smile beamed at you as he entered, walking over to the small bedside table and placing down a bottle of water. As if he could sense the way you were staring at him, he could, he quizzically met your gaze. 

“What? Got somethin’ on my face?” 

He did, he knew he did, his face and clothes were spattered with evidence that you had in fact seen and felt him die right before your eyes. But your brain was currently in no state to even begin to contemplate how he managed to simultaneously be covered in his own blood, the blood you’d seen spurting from a bullet wound to his neck, and still be alive at the same time. You didn’t respond to his question, not even blinking as you stared at him, eyes wide and not a single thought between them. 

Higgs chuckled, clearly amused by your current state of complete bewilderment as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. He gave it a shake, the tablets rattling inside.

“Thought you might need these. I’m sure that wound’s got ya hurtin’ somethin’ bad right about now. Ain’t 100% sure what they are, but I know they do a mighty fine job of dullin’ the pain.” 

You heard a small clink of what you assume was the small bottle being placed on the table near the bottle of water, but you weren’t looking. No, your eyes were still glued to the walking and talking corpse that was covered in the evidence of his own violent death. Somehow you managed to make a few words come out of your mouth. 

“H-how — how are you —” You paused. Nope, that train of thought doesn’t make sense. Try another. “I — I remember seeing you die. Our cord it — it disappeared.” 

After taking a brief moment to appreciate the way you referred to it as “our cord”, Higgs clicked his tongue in disappointment as he sat down on the edge of bed that lay against the opposite wall.

“Damn. Was kinda hopin’ you wouldn’t remember that part. That’s a damn shame.” He sighed deeply in frustration, eyes closed as he turned that frustration into acceptance. “Well, guess this can serve as a lesson then. Don’t get any ideas about killin’ me to break our bond. ‘Fraid you’ll find it won’t work.” 

Well that makes no sense whatsoever. “I —I don’t understand.”

“Well, if you’d ever desired to look at this meticulously decorated body o’ mine —” Higgs wriggled his hips against the mattress seductively as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing his bare torso. “— you’d’ve notices a few of these.” 

Higgs twisted his upper body so that you could see the side of his waist more clearly. While your attention was initially drawn to the way his skin was adorned with the same shimmering gold equations as the ones that had replaced his eyebrows, you soon noticed a few marks that looked like handprints. They were slightly darker than his pale skin, kind of like healed scars left behind by a hand that was hot enough to burn. 

“Heard the term ‘repatriate’ before?” 

You nodded in confirmation. You had, but you’d thought it was just a myth, one of those over-exaggerated wives-tales that had could be explained with some sort of logical explanation. You’d scoffed in disbelief when you’d been told the story of a fellow porter who was unable to truly die. But now, well shit, maybe it was true, and that meant there were multiple people who could defy death like that? You sighed, of course the asshole who you’re dying to be rid of is one of only a few un-killable people in the entire goddamn world. Well that rules out killing him.

Higgs trailed his fingers over one of the handprints that had branded his flesh, it’s scarred print sitting just below where his ribcage ended. He didn’t make any indication as to whether or not it hurt to touch. 

“I get a new one of these baby’s each time I’m brought back from the dead. This is the one I got while savin’ you.” 

Even though you couldn’t see his entire body, not even close, you could see what looked like at least three handprints on his upper body, two the same size as the one he got from saving you, and one — 

“What about that one?“

You pointed towards a slightly smaller hand print, its fingertips trailing over his rib cage as it peeked around from behind his back. You couldn’t see it fully, but while the one Higgs was currently touching looked like it had been made by an adult, this one looked like it had been left there by someone who was not yet fully grown. 

The second the seemingly innocent question left your mouth, you felt an emotion course through the cord. A deep sorrow mixed with a high level of anxiety. That, and the expression on Higgs’ face as he abruptly averted his gaze, told you that you weren’t going to get an answer. 

You were right. In fact, you didn’t get any acknowledgment that you’d even asked a question. 

Higgs cleared his throat as he shuffled back on the bed, donning his mask as he returned his gaze to you, back resting against the wall, long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. An intentionally calm demeanour that he was hoping would calm him down in return, accompanied by an abrupt change in topic. 

“Lucky I got to ya when I did, you were about ready to check out. My fault I ended up temporarily checkin’ out, that final bugger weren’t fully dead, got me with a bullet in his final moment.”

You were intrigued by the fact that you’d managed to ask something that Higgs didn’t want to pontificate about. Usually he’d never miss an opportunity to talk about himself, rewarding your apparent interest in him with more information than you ever wanted to hear. Part of you wanted to press the matter, make the bastard feel the discomfort he deserved as he was forced to focus on those horrible emotions he’d felt when you’d mentioned the smaller handprint. But something about the way he was so easily able to mask his true emotions like that, acting all nonchalant and calm when deep down he was hurting — that didn’t sit right with you. You decided to follow his attempt at redirecting the conversation to a lighter place.  

“How did you know where to find me?” 

“Well I knew you were hurtin’, thanks to our beautiful bond.” Higgs emphasised the word ‘our’ as he remembered the way you’d said it earlier. “Hell, it felt like I was dying. So I simply jumped in your general direction ’til I found ya.” 

Of course, the cord. For a moment your mind had ventured somewhere dark, suspiciously wondering if he’d actually known exactly where to find you. You wouldn’t put it past Higgs to orchestrate an attack, just so he could play the hero for once, give him an opportunity to prove to you he’s not just the villain you seem so convinced he is. But yeah, right, he felt it through the cord. That makes sense.

“And then what? You died, came back to life, brought me back here and then —” Oh that motherfucker. You’d been so preoccupied with the fact Higgs wasn’t dead, that you’d only just noticed your clothes weren’t as bloody as they should be. In fact, they weren’t even your clothes.  

“You changed me?”

“Had to. ‘fraid that’s all I had. I know they’re not very flattering, you ain’t quite as strapping as I am.”

You felt a wave of disgust wash over you. They were his clothes.

Higgs seemed amused by the way you ran your fingers under the hem of the shirt he’d dressed you in. His black long-sleeved shirt. His black sweatpants. He had, in fact, had many other things he could have dressed you in. But where’s the fun in that? Miss an opportunity to see you all flustered? Never. 

“Don’t worry, they’re clean enough. But, if they’re not to your liking, you’re welcome to take ‘em off. I can help you if you’d like?” 

“You son of a bitch.”

Higgs chuckled, the golden cord clearly letting him know exactly how his disgusting little trick was making you feel. Although he probably didn’t need the cord to know how angry you were, you wouldn’t’ve been surprised your body had suddenly erupted into flames. 

“Aww come now darlin’, I couldn’t leave ya soaked in blood now could I? Don’t worry, I didn’t peek — much.”

You saw red. Higgs felt it, throwing his hands up in front of his chest like he was proving he was unarmed, that he was innocent. 

“I’m joking. In truth — I actually peeked quite a lot.”

“You fucking piece of —” 

“— it was a joke! God, can’t even joke with you? This is gonna be boring few weeks now ain’t it?”

The penny dropped so loud that you swear you heard a single drum beat reverberate loudly in your ears. No, no that is not happening. For some reason you found yourself reminiscing about the fact that the MULEs had been oddly dressed. 

“A few weeks? I’m not staying here with you Higgs.” 

Higgs’ heart dropped slightly at the fact you felt the need to emphasise that it was him you didn’t want to stay with, like you were saying you’d be fine staying here it wasn’t for his presence. It stung a little, but he buried it with a smug and knowing smile — there was something you hadn’t realised yet. 

“‘fraid to say you are sweetheart.” 

“I’m not. You can’t keep me here with you.” 

Your emphasis landed the way he assumed you’d intended it to — with thorns.

“Actually, you might find that I already am keepin’ you here with me.” 

Higgs smirked as he motioned with his head towards the bottom of the bed. The pain in your abdomen caused you to wince as you curled your legs up towards you, only to find you could only freely move one of them. Oh that fucking asshole. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t realised it earlier. You instantly tossed off the blanket to reveal a thick leather cuff restraining your right ankle to the bed-frame. You winced as you gave your ankle a firm tug, the chain rattling against the beds metal leg, the small padlock jiggling as you tested the strength of the cuffs hold on you.

“Told you I’d get you some nicer cuffs. That one’s much more comfy now ain’t it?” 

That bullshit question didn’t even warrant an answer. 

“You piece of shit. Un-cuff me. Now.”

The look in Higgs’ eyes as he shuffled forward, moving to the edge of the bed before rising to his feet, put you on edge. It was reminiscent of the way a predator would keep its eyes glued on its prey, making sure it could see any tiny indication that it might try to flee. That gaze, mixed with the implication that you couldn’t, in fact, flee anywhere, made it predatory in an entirely different way. 

You pressed your back against the wall as you looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours as they swirled with an emotion that was neither distinguishable as arousal or amusement. Perhaps it was both. You’d noticed his tendency to use his height as a threat, caging you in as he gazed down at you from his lofty seat above. Even when you were both standing, you still weren’t on equal footing, his height putting him at a clear advantage to both intimidate, while also eliminating any shred of hope you might have in your ability to overpower him. You knew for a fact that he knew he had that ability, however you weren’t quite sure if it’s what he was intending to do right now. The way he was imposing over you now seemed less like it was implying danger, and more like it was trying to evoke an emotion. 

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand reached down with the intention of cupping your chin. You were so paralysed by the unknown element of his actions, that you let him. He leant down close as he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, keeping your gaze on him. And while this gesture may have seemed gentle, his tone was anything but, a pre-emptive smirk curling his lips, pre-enjoyment in the way he was about to make you feel. After all, what kind of husband would he be if he didn’t know all the right buttons to push to make you flustered? 

“Come now darlin’, what kinda husband would I be if I left my wife to —”

Yep, there it was, the anger he knew those terms would provoke. Higgs chuckled as your hands slapped his away from your face. 

“— you are not my fucking husband!”

Higgs was still beaming with amusement as he stood, taking a few steps back. You let out a small sigh of relief, his towering silhouette no longer making you feel as claustrophobic. 

“Well, that don’t really matter now does it? Cause sweetheart there ain’t no way you can tend to that wound all by your lonesome.”

Your eyes staring daggers at him, you trailed a hand down over the bandage that enveloped your waist, feeling the layers of padding that were obviously cushioning the wound underneath it. Shit, he was probably right. But that didn’t mean you’d willingly stay here with him. 

“I can take care of myself. I managed just fine before I met you.” 

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not leaving here until I know that wound isn’t gonna get infected. How does that saying go? In sickness an’ in health?”

“Fuck you.”

“Now that would be mighty fine way of thankin’ me for saving your hide. I did technically die saving you.”

Higgs chuckled, clearly extremely amused by your frustration as he walked towards the doorway. “I should clean up a bit first though, I don’t assume you get off on the presence of blood as much as I do. I’d offer for you to join me, but those bandages should really remain dry.” 

Any curse you spat forth as Higgs turned to leave, fell on deaf ears as he simply laughed even louder. 

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜☆

You’d heard the water shut off in the other room, Higgs assumably finished cleansing himself of the blood that he’d been previously covered in. “Get off on the presence of blood …” You shuddered, because while you knew he very well could have meant that as a joke, you really wouldn’t be surprised if that sick fuck really did get off on the sight of blood. You sat with your eyes closed, head resting back against the wall and hands gently resting against your bandages. You’d been trying to focus on your breathing and not the disgusting thoughts you’d been having while you’d been able to hear the water running. The water running down his face, caressing his lips. The way the layers of blood would run down over his muscles, lean and lanky, but still sculpted and well-defined. 

Get it together for fuck’s sake. 

You cursed yourself for thinking those things about the man you despised so much. They’d crept their way in the moment you’d thought it was a good idea to smell the collar of the long-sleeved shirt he’d dressed you in. His shirt, that was “clean enough.” The second the warm smell of him had hit your nostrils, you realised it had been a mistake. His smell was comforting, laced with hints of chiralium and nicotine, but overwhelmingly warm, the kind of warm comfort that you’d get from sitting in front of a fireplace, enveloped in the embrace of your loved one. Every time his scent hit your nostrils, you felt a sensation akin to that little tingling buzz that comes from cold skin suddenly being warmed. 

You desperately hoped that the golden cord wasn’t relaying all these thoughts to the asshole whom they were about — the asshole who then reentered the room. 

As you watched Higgs enter, you hated that you felt a warmth flush your cheeks — a sensation that, seeing he’d chosen to dress the way he currently was, you assume he’d wanted to cause. He was dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs, nothing else covering his body except for the towel that he was currently using to haphazardly dry his hair. His skin glistened, still slightly damp and flush from the warm water that had washed away all that sweat and blood. Your mind wandered to the way the blood would look as it was washed over his — no, for fuck’s sake stop.

His hair apparently dry enough, Higgs tossed the towel onto the floor as he walked over to the desk and began rummaging through a large box. You watched as he started to sort various medical supplies into a smaller box, assumably inspecting them to determine if they will be required. You shook your head to yourself in disbelief. If he thought he was going to be the one changing your bandages, he had another thing coming. 

As he continued to search through the box, your eyes were drawn to the way the light accented a droplet of water as it dripped from his hair. God you hated the way you couldn’t avoid looking at him, every time you looked away, your eyes were drawn right back. Albeit, there was nothing else to look at right now, but you hated that he had this power over you, the ability to simply exist in the same room as you and not even have to say a word to keep your attention focused solely on him. 

You hated that your first thought was that his eyes weren’t anywhere near as breathtaking without the black kohl to accentuate the blue. You hated that you now knew exactly how many tattoos he had, the majority gleaming chiral gold and seemingly carved into his skin, the minority black and given the traditional way. You hated that you were curious to know why he’d willingly infused those tattoos with something as toxic as chiralium. You hated even more that you felt a twinge of concern for how that toxicity might be affecting his wellbeing. You hated that you wished you could attach a chain between his chiral gold nipple piercings, giving it a tug and making him whine. You hated that you were curious to know if he had any piercings in the one place you couldn’t see. You hated that your eyes were drawn to the way he reached a hand down to fix the edge of his waistband, the small ‘snap’ indicating he’d successfully untwisted the elastic. You hated that you lingered long enough to observe that the pouch of his boxer briefs was only just barely large enough to do its job, the fabric having to strain and stretch to fit around him. 

You didn’t hate, that your next undoubtedly filthy thought was interrupted by your attention being drawn elsewhere. Your eyes were drawn to his right thigh, where the leg of his boxer briefs was rolled slightly, not having been straightened out flat when he’d put them on. 

While you were concerned that Higgs had been able to feel what you were feeling about him up until this point, it no longer mattered, because he most certainly felt what you thought when you saw what the rolled leg of his boxer briefs was failing to hide — a collection of scars on his inner thigh, parallel and in various stages of repair, one still not fully healed. A gradient of scars, ranging from the shiny texture of a healed scar, to an inflamed and raw dark pink, each one darkening in colour as they descended down his inner thigh. An archive of a desperate desire to feel. 

Higgs’ hands stalled on the edge of the box, fingers gripping its edge as a flood of emotions overwhelmed him, his body unable to focus on them and moving his hands at the same time. Without acknowledging you, Higgs let you know he had felt your emotion, sighing deeply as his black-nailpolish tipped fingers reached down to straighten out the leg of his boxer briefs. He spoke without turning to face you. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that darlin’. Ain’t no use pitying me for injuries I inflict upon myself.”

He’d not said anything to prompt that emotion from you, so it only took him a brief moment to realise that you must’ve seen something. He’d decided not to tell you, but he’d most definitely felt the way you were looking at his nearly naked form with a feeling of desire and lust, the way you were curious and prompted to want to discover all the ways to make him squirm. He’d not mentioned it, relishing in the fact that he had the ability to make you feel those things, knowing he’d probably use it as ammunition at some point in the future. Those feelings of lust and intrigue, those were the feelings he wanted, that he craved. He’d been relishing in them — until those horrible feelings came. He didn’t want the feelings that you had when you saw his scars, they made him remember the things he used those scars to avoid thinking about. He didn’t do it for pity, he did it to feel something. Old habits die hard. 

Your heart sank as you considered whether he truly believed there was no need for you to pity him for injuries he inflicted upon himself — you knew damn well the fact they were self-inflicted meant there was more reason to pity him. 

Through the golden cord, you could feel the way he was currently feeling, the emotions that the flood of memories had caused. Pain, anger, disgust, fear — all contrasted with two emotions you felt from him every time you were given a glimpse behind his masks: hope and longing. You’d felt them from him before, whenever you saw him without the multiple masks that protected his real self, whenever you got a glimpse of the real Higgs underneath all the theatrics — his desire to be seen and understood, accepted as he is. Just now, you’d seen another small part of the real him, and even though he hated that you’d seen it, he still held that feeling of longing to be understood and the hope that you someday would accept him as he is. 

And just like every time you felt this from him, you felt an uncomfortable sensation swell in your own chest, that conflicting feeling that you always got when Higgs revealed a part of himself that you discovered you didn’t despise as much as the rest of him. 

Your eyes still on him, you watched the process of his mask actively slipping back on. The deep breath with the slightly ragged exhale, the stretch as he looked up towards the ceiling, eyes firmly shut as if was giving his mind a hard reset. If you’d been able to see his aura glowing around him, it would have altered drastically, as if he’d become a completely different person. 

As your thoughts lingered on this innate ability he had, the ability to mask his emotions so easily, you saw him flinch. His face briefly screwed up in discomfort as he felt another emotion that you couldn’t help but feel for him, one you felt as you realised what an unhealthy comping mechanism that was, and how sad it was that he’d become so accustomed to having to mask his true self like that. 

He didn’t mention it, taking another large breath as he pushed those emotions deep down. A forced smile back on his face, he cleared his throat as he resumed rummaging through the box of medical supplies. He intentionally lightened his tone as he changed the subject completely.

“Before you ask — no darlin’, I ain’t gonna bother gettin’ dressed, this is how I sleep. Also, I just love the way you’re so goddamn predictable.”

Yep, there it is, back to the theatrics. 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Hands holding a small box of necessary medical supplies, Higgs approached you, his grin smug and his steps slow and calculated. His eyes burned with a sheepishness that told you were about to be mocked. 

“It means you do the same thing every time you’ve seen, or even just been near my body. You send the same two emotions through our golden bond.” Higgs smirked as he lowered his towering frame to kneel beside the bed. “Tell me, is the disgust you feel for me? Or is it for yourself, because you’re disgusted by the lust you feel for me?” 

“Go to hell.” 

“Already plan to visit in my nightmares tonight. But first, I’ve gotta check on that wound of yours.” 

Even just the suggestion of him doing that was enough to cause you to tense, drawing your limbs in tighter against your body in subconscious defence.

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“Why? You worried you’ll discover that the pain don’t feel as bad when it comes from my hands? That you like it when I hurt you? ‘fraid you’ll discover we share a kink?”

You let out a frustrated sigh as you rolled your eyes, attempting to quell the temptation to kiss his mouth with your clenched fist over and over again. Knowing this would only be giving him what he wanted, you redirected the subject.

“Surely you’ve got doctors or something? Who did this?”

As you gestured towards your abdomen, implying you meant the bandages that were currently there, Higgs sat back on his ankles and tilted his head curiously. You hated that you knew him well enough to able to interpret the look on his face, and how it was letting you know that his response wasn’t going to be at all serious. 

“Depends. Got a complaint about the job that was done? Cause if that’s the case, it uh — wasn’t me.” 

God, getting an answer from him like was drawing blood from a goddamn stone. You wanted to slap that smug grin right off his face, the face of the man who clearly did apply the bandages that were currently wrapped around your waist. 

“Man you’re hot when you’re frustrated at me.” Higgs grinned as he mockingly fanned his face as if you’d made him have a hot flash. “Yeah I got doctors, but I simply couldn’t trust them to not spoil something so beautiful. Also, it’s hard to pass up the opportunity to give you a permanent little reminder of me. I was very tempted to stitch you up in the shape of my name, but I decided that might be in poor taste.” 

You scoffed in disgust. “You’d have been right. Go get one of the doctors.” 

“Oh darlin’, I’m afraid I simply can’t afford the ‘after hours’ fee they’d charge me.”

You sighed deeply in defeat. Knowing that he had the power to ask anyone in his crew to do absolutely anything at any any time, it was clear that he obviously wanted to be the one patching you up. You knew there was no dissuading him from giving himself this opportunity to gloat about saving you sometime in the future. 

“Fine.”

“Excellent choice sweetheart. You’ve chosen the best surgeon in this entire goddamn room.” 

You prepared yourself for his vile touch as he pulled a small flask out from the box by his knees. 

“Here, drink this.” 

Higgs sighed in frustration as you eyed the small flask with a look of cautious suspicion. “Darlin’ it ain’t poison. Well actually, technically alcohol is a poison, but you know what I mean. Trust me, you’ll want it. I ain’t got the best stuff in terms of anaesthetic.” 

He smiled as you took the flask from him. Right now, even if it was poison, it’d still be better than the pain you knew you were about to feel.

As Higgs sat up on his knees, the overhead light flickered off, causing you to jump in fright as you were abruptly enshrouded in darkness. 

“Ah shit, there goes the power again. Of course it decided to wait ’til I actually need the light. Decrepit piece o’ shit.” 

The underground bunker now in complete darkness, you could only hear that Higgs had risen to his feet. His voice trailed off into the distance as your golden cord let you know he’d moved away from you. 

Even though the golden cord shone bright, cutting through the darkness like a snake made of static, it didn’t illuminate anything around it. Seeing that it could only be seen by you and Higgs, and the way it had no regard for solid objects, flowing through them like they didn’t exist, you assumed that maybe it simply had no effect on anything other than you and him. 

Light slowly emerged through the doorway as Higgs returned with an electric lantern, its warm glow illuminating his face and bare chest. “Power’s always the number one problem with repurposin’ an abandoned bunker.”

Higgs placed the lantern on the mattress beside you as he knelt back down beside the bed. As he leant in, you lifted the hem of your shirt so that he could access the bandages he’d firmly wrapped around your abdomen. 

He leant in close as he reached around you, unfurling the layers of bandage, so close to you that you were almost afraid to breath, knowing that your breath would caress his face as he continued to unwind the bandages from around your waist. You found that your focus was drawn to the way the low, warm light of the lantern was lighting up the equations that lined his brow-bone, the way they shimmered in the light as he moved.   

Unfortunately you couldn’t stop your initial emotion from being one that caused Higgs’ eyes to flick up to meet yours. And you also couldn’t stop the feeling you felt as the warm light hit the blue of his eyes, wide and swimming with emotion as they met yours. They were breathtakingly beautiful, the low warm light adding a depth to their oceans that they didn’t usually possess. In that moment, his face only inches from yours, you felt like the light was illuminating the only two things in the world that mattered: you and him. 

He held your gaze, his hand movements slowing but still working to wrap the last layers of bandage from your body. For a brief moment, his hands stilled, his eyes now searching yours with a sense of desperate longing, like he was hoping to find reprieve in your eyes. Your breath caught, as you realised how desperately you wanted to give it to him, give him the answer for the look of longing that was causing his eyes to swell wet. Right now, you wanted nothing more than to — 

Ah fuck. You winced, flinching as the last layer of gauze refused to leave your skin without taking a piece of you with it.

“Shit, sorry.” Higgs returned his attention to your wound, gently peeling away the stubborn gauze to reveal the wound beneath. 

You felt a wave of emotion flood you, that conflicting feeling you felt often around Higgs: disgust — disgust in yourself for allowing yourself to feel those disgusting emotions about the disgusting man whose hands were now rolling your bloody bandages into a tight ball. You sighed, deciding to keep your focus purely on the matter at hand. Your wound now exposed you looked down to see — 

“Oh fuck.”

Almost perfectly halfway between the end of your ribcage and your hipbone, your waist had been cleanly severed, a horizontal cut a few centimetres deep. Already bruising blue and black, dried blood surrounded the stitches that were holding your skin together. 

“Yep, really took a chunk outta ya.” 

Higgs leant down close, squinting as he inspected the wound under the lanterns low light. He clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Damn. You need some more stitches. Was hard to tell before cause of all the swellin’.” 

Before you could say anything to the effect of ‘can’t someone else do it?’, Higgs reached out and cupped your cheek. His expression was soft.

“I know you won’t, no matter what I say but — you can trust me. I know what I’m doin’. It’s gonna hurt but — I’ll do my best to make sure it don’t hurt more than it needs to. Last thing I want is to see you hurt sweetheart.”  

You hated the way your heart fluttered. As he stroked your cheek with his thumb, a small droplet of water fell from his hair and trickled down the side of his neck. He smiled gently as he withdrew his hand and began rummaging through the supplies in the small box next to him. The low warm light of the lantern seemed to soften his edges, change his shape from one of a monster to one that almost resembled a human. Your eyes were drawn to the way his body sparkled as the lantern’s light hit his chiral tattoos. 

He leant back over the bed as he ripped open an alcohol wipe. “‘Fraid this is do more than just sting.” 

You cursed as the alcohol’s cruel sting met your wound.

“I know, I’m sorry baby. Lemme know if you need somethin’ to bite on. Don’t want you breakin’ those pretty teeth of yours. Not until I’ve had a chance to feel them sunk into my skin.” 

Well, there’s that disgust again, successfully burying the repulsive warmth and comfort you were feeling about the way he was cherishing you. Good.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” 

Higgs chuckled. “Oh so many things that you’ll have to learn to love.” 

There was nothing to do but roll your eyes as Higgs smirked, his fingers deftly working to thread a needle. As he leant in close, his smirk dropped, returning to that gentle expression of comfort that again, made your heart flutter with confliction.  

“Ready?” 

“Yeah.”

You winced as Higgs placed a hand against your skin, his touch intentionally firm as he supported your skin to prevent it moving unnecessarily when the needle sunk in. His eyes were gentle and comforting when they they flickered back up to yours. 

“Say the word, and I stop. I mean, I’ll eventually have to keep goin’, but lemme know if you need a break.”

You nodded as he returned his attention back to the job at hand. 

You’d assumed, being the smug asshole he is, that he’d either wanted to do this so that he had some sort of leverage in the future, like an ‘I patched you up, you owe me’ kind of thing, or because he got some kind of sick pleasure out of hurting you, and or, marking you. But as you watched him now, there was no trace of smug satisfaction on his face. His expression was the most serious you’d ever seen it, his forehead furrowed as he focused intently on the stitches, his lips curling up in a sympathetic wince every time you tensed or gasped in pain. Looking at him right now, the way he was treating your body with loving care and compassion, you’d be forgiven for forgetting that those hands were also responsible for the deaths of thousands. No — no you wouldn’t forget that — they were also responsible for the death of your family. You decided to try and distract yourself from the conflicting feelings that were throbbing uncomfortably in your chest.

“How’d you learn to do this?”

“Practice, trial an’ error, seein’ what works to keep a wound closed under the strain of various types of movement. Mostly on myself of course. Had plenty of wounds over the years that’ve needed stitchin’.”

Your mind wandered back to the scars you’d seen on his thigh. 

“Not all inflicted by others.” 

A statement of fact, not a question. Higgs’ movements stalled momentarily, his mind clearly wandering somewhere dark before he refocused it, resuming the next stitch.

“No darlin’, not all of them.” 

A few moments in silence was obviously enough time for Higgs to come to a conclusion as to why you seemed so focused on his scars. His movements stalled, his blue eyes swimming with compassion as he met your gaze. 

“When you finally allow me to worship this beautiful body of yours, when you let me place my healing kisses on all of your wounding marks —” His free hand gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “— which leg’ll I need to give the most tender love ’n care?” 

A feeling of overwhelming acceptance flooded through you, and it was instantly met with an opposing feeling of disgust, disgust at the thought that you’d let someone like him close enough to know a secret. While you logically wanted the disgust to win that battle, the look on his face as he started at you with genuine concern and compassion, weakened your resolve. You gave in, letting yourself be seen by him. 

“The left one. And — somewhere on a, higher limb.”

Higgs averted his gaze, seemingly lost in thought as he absentmindedly ran a finger over the inside of his wrist, feeling the raised mark that he realised he’d see reflected on your wrist as well. His breath caught as he tried to stifle the emotions that he was feeling in his own chest, and the overwhelming sensation of acceptance that was he was feeling coming from you. He knew he should offer you the reassurance of his gaze, but he didn’t dare look at you. 

“Can do darlin’. I’ll kiss ‘em all better.” 

The silence that filled the room as Higgs placed the final few stitches was anything but uncomfortable. The room was filled with a feeling of mutual understanding that was warmer than low lantern light that, in that moment, continued to only illuminate the two things that mattered. 

Higgs broke the silence by clearing his throat, an attempt to clear the sobs that he’d managed to keep hidden down there. 

“That should do it. Hopefully that’s all sealed up nice an’ tight now.”

He still didn’t meet your gaze as re-padded and re-wrapped the bandages around your waist — he didn’t want you to see the tears that he knew were now swimming in his eyes.  

He knew that the aroma of mutual understanding that filled the air wouldn’t last. He’d wanted nothing more than to pull you into an embrace, comfort you and himself as he told you it would all be okay. But he knew you wouldn’t accept it. He knew that he couldn’t trust any of the feelings he’d felt from you since you’d been here — the lust, the interest, the desire, the pity, the sympathy, the acknowledgment and understanding — he didn’t dare trust them, because he knew you’d find a way to oppose them, smother them with forced disgust and hatred. 

The way you were looking at him right now, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, felt like a poison, slowly eroding his defences and making him weak enough to shatter. As much as he wanted it, he couldn’t stand it, not until he knew it could be trusted. He needed to leave. 

He stood, small box of supplies and bloody bandages in hand, and headed towards the door with the intention to walk straight out — but he was stopped dead in his tracks. He froze, hand on the doorframe as he felt a wave of emotion through the cord that he’d never felt from you: gratitude. His next breath was shaky, relishing in the feeling, knowing it’s all he was going to get — he knew you could never bring yourself to thank him with your voice. You’d never thank him, not the man who you were convinced was the source of all your suffering. 

But this was good enough for him, and it was also enough for him to decide to risk shattering completely. 

You watched Higgs turn to speak over his shoulder, still not daring to meet your gaze. He seemed different, a completely different person than the person who’d been in the room with you this whole time. When he spoke, it was without the layers upon layers of dismissive sarcasm and performative lightheartedness that his words usually possessed. 

“I know it won’t mean much to ya but I know I’d regret not sayin’ it. Thank you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “For what?”

“For the relief you felt when you realised I was still alive.” 

As you watched Higgs leave, you felt a strange sensation in your chest, an aching sensation that seemed to force its way in even though it didn’t fit. It conflicted with all the other feelings you held for him, causing your chest to physically hurt as the battle between hatred and those conflicting feelings of compassion and acceptance, raged war once more.

He’d seemed so different. The low, warm light of the lantern seemed to soften him, as opposed to how his edges usually reflected the harsh artificial light. It was as if the time spent soaking in the warm light of the lantern had dissolved all his layers, revealing the vulnerable core that lay beneath. And for the first time since you’d met him, you hadn’t been disgusted by what you’d seen. You had a feeling that you’d finally met the real Higgs. 

Meanwhile …

On the other end of your golden cord was a broken man who, the second he was out of earshot, had sunk to the floor and curled his knees up to his chest as he stopped trying to prevent his sobs from spilling forth. 

TO BE CONTINUED ♡

AUTHORS NOTE: I took some creative liberty with repatriation and the smaller hand print. What if the age at which you die, matches the age of the hands that bring you back? As horrible as it would be, I wonder how young Higgs was when he first discovered he was a repatriate.

Also, why are you so suspicious about the way the MULEs were dressed? ;)

If anyone is interested, here’s my valiant attempt at sci-fi thriller/murder mystery!

The Key Locke Series: Key Locke and the case of the Femme Fatale - Chapter 1 - Lhaewiel - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

I am working through the story, but I thought I’d do a quick testing the waters kind of thing!

Hope you enjoy!

Fanfiction Playlist

for Can We Make This Something Good?

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Golden Chain of Fate
CHAPTER 3 - Memory of a Monster

CHAPTER 0 - Flash-forward ✧ CHAPTER 1 - Your Fated One ✧ CHAPTER 2 - Crystal Clear

DS1 Higgs ✧ f!reader ✧ no use of y/n ✧ can also be found on Ao3

synopsis: It took the death of your family for your DOOMs to fully manifest itself, and it brought with it, a golden cord of fate. It was connected to the person that fate had decided was your destiny, the one that was your other half, your eternal love. But as it turns out, you should have realised why they call having DOOMs “suffering”, because fate had decided to be cruel. You weren’t connected with a cord. No - it was a chain, forever tethering you to a man you could never love.

overall content warning: swearing, explicit sexual content, eventual smut, dubious consent, unrequited love, unhealthy relationship, threats of violence/sexual violence, abduction, held against your will, obsessive behaviour, manipulative behaviour, forced relationship, hurt no comfort (additional tags to be added)

A little chapter before the smut begins. We know that Higgs is more than he seems, he’s deeply layered. But so far reader, you’ve refused to see him any other way than the terrorist who killed your family. Well, what about after this?

As always, if you’d like to be on a taglist, please let me know! Sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone! (Also let me know if you no longer want to be tagged, I won’t be offended) @thehouseoflore, @whateversnice, @marsonthemoon000, @necromantiste, @kymarmstrong, @higgshub, @nothingthere2see

chapter synopsis: You awake from a dream to find that you aren’t the only one who’d felt how horrible it had made you feel.

chapter specific warnings: sfw ✧ detailed descriptions of canonical child abuse (physical & implied sexual), angst, threats of violence, Higgs doesn’t know how to interpret his emotions

CHAPTER 3 - Memory of a Monster

The previous encounter you’d had with Higgs had left you reeling. He’d made his intentions known, his words implicitly a threat of violence should you take too long to requite his love.

You’d been overwhelmed with anger ever since, partially at him, but mostly at yourself for the way your body had started to react to his presence. The way his proximity caused you to flush warm, the way his scent lingered in your nostrils, the way you wanted to burn within his blue, flame-filled eyes. Fucking disgusting. He was a monster, one that you hated had been correct when he suspected you felt the same longing and yearning deep inside your chest. Your DOOMs had cursed you both with those feelings, yet unlike him, you knew they weren’t the truth. The truth was that you despised him. You had no feelings of love towards the man who killed your family. Those feelings in your chest were a a lie and you hated the fact that you had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

As you lay down in bed, you tried to think of anything other than the feeling of him laying close beside you. The way he’d press his body against yours. They way you’d feel his erection gently nudge against the curve of your ass. They way you’d — fuck. The way you’d pull the dagger out from under your pillow and bury it into his chest over and over again. Yeah, that’s better. 

With thoughts of Higgs’ blood soaking into the bedsheets, you slipped into slumber. 

✧ ·. ☽ ˚。☁︎ ･ﾟ✧ *. ✧ ·. ☽ ˚。☁︎ ･ﾟ✧ *.

A dream, hazy with faded colours, like an old photo faded by time. Knees pulled up to your chest, small hands covering your eyes. Peeking through tiny fingers, you see a door, its hard edges swirling as tears distort your vision. Hands moved to cover your ears, trying to muffle the sounds of yelling and banging, loud and harsh, but still not as deafening as the sound of your own heartbeat as it raced in your chest. Vision distorted like looking through a wall of water, ears pounding with a beat of terrified heart, body trembling like a pebble vibrating from the force of an incoming stampede. 
The trembling stopped the second the door swung open wide, the incessant hammering finally causing its lock to give in. Eyes wide and wet, the view of the incoming giant making you freeze, body and mind shutting down knowing the inevitable was about to happen. The unstoppable force that had brought down its wrath time and time again. A mind trying to shut down, to disassociate from the tiny body that in inhabited, the one that had grown accustomed to the pain. 
Tears continued to fall but sobs fell silent. No pleas. No begs. No words at all as tiny hands raised to your face once more in an attempt to shield from another broken jaw. An instinctual attempt at defence that had failed each time it had been tried. Bruises unable to be prevented, blood unable to be kept under the skin. 
Eyelids clenched so tight it hurt, but no where near as much as the pain those eyelids were preventing you from witnessing. Each blow landing imprecise, the result of fists being controlled by drunken arms.  But it didn’t matter, the quantity over-rid the necessity of quality. 
Words and curses being spit forth, landing against your skin with the actual spit of a mouth filled with rage. An adult rage that had no place being forced onto this tiny body. An internal anger being wrongfully pummelled into this tiny body against its will. 
Hands now weak and fallen away, mouth now metallic. A pressure around your throat forces your eyes open, your vision blurred from tears and an already swelling eye socket, you view the giant whose fingers are currently crushing your tiny throat. A single hand wrapped around something so small, large enough that the other hand isn’t even required. The familiar view of the man above starts to blacken at the edges. His mouth is still moving, spitting words intended to wound as much as his fists, but you can no longer hear them. Words muffled as your ears ring from lack of oxygen, but also muffled intentionally by the desire to not feel their pain, the physical pain was already enough without them. The physical pain that you were somehow supposed to take like a man, regardless of the fact your tiny body wasn’t capable of that. 
Vision pulsing as it turned pitch black, the last thing you see is a giant hand drunkly fumbling to undo his belt, and fear of anticipation the soreness you know you’ll feel once you wake — 

✧ ·. ☽ ˚。☁︎ ･ﾟ✧ *. ✧ ·. ☽ ˚。☁︎ ･ﾟ✧ *.

As your vision in your dream fade to black, your vision in the real world came to life as your eyes darted open. You lay frozen, lying on your back with your eyes wide as your chest heaved, the emotions of the dream still coursing through you. Your body was aching, rigid and frozen in fright, as if somehow afraid to move just in case the pain in the dream was a real threat. 

As you lay staring at the ceiling, awaiting the moment your body realises it’s not actually in any danger, you felt a sensation in your chest so strong that it made you feel slightly nauseous. A deep sorrow for a loved one, an understanding of their pain, the feeling of pity for their struggles. It washed over you like a wave, providing a feeling of being accepted and understood that you weren’t sure was yours, but also a feeling of extreme distress. A name kept echoing through your head as if it had come bundled with the dream, not mentioned in the actual dream itself but the name written on the video tape you’d played the dream from. 

Peter? 

For some reason the name made you picture Higgs, and almost as if your thoughts had the ability to summon, there was bright flash across your ceiling. 

The flash, and the sound of rough static that accompanied it, was one you’d recently grown accustomed to, and its sudden presence prompted you to jolt upright to locate its source. 

As you sat up, you tapped your bedhead, the small overhead lamp lighting up and confirming the source of the flash, as it lit up the shape of the man standing at the end of your bed. 

“Higgs what the fuck?” 

He looked horrible, his eyes usually circled with dark makeup, now also circled with the telltale sighs of sleep deprivation. He looked like he’d been chased, bare chest heaving, hair disheveled as sweat beaded on his forehead. Faint particles of chiral dust, left behind by his jump, glistened across his shoulders and chest as he stood dressed only in a pair of black sweatpants. His breathing was ragged as he began to pace in distress on the spot like he was torn between looking at you and turning to walk away. 

When his voice finally came out, he couldn’t prevent if from sounding cracked and desperate, reflecting the internal distress that was reflected in his pacing. His finger pointed at you accusingly as he spoke. 

“Don’t you dare feel like that about me again.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you sat up. 

“Don’t I dare what? What are you —”

“— that feeling you just felt about me.” 

Now sitting up, you scooted over to the edge of the bed, confused about what the hell Higgs was so distressed about right now. 

“I wasn’t thinking anything about you, I just woke up.” 

“What did you dream?”

“I — what? How did you even know what I was feeling? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t sleep.” You could tell he meant that, the distress on his face not slipping into the sarcastic rouse that often indicated he was joking. He repeated his question emphasising each word. “What. Was. The. Dream?”

You sighed in frustration, trying to recall the events that took place.

“I don’t really know what it was. It was like I was a small child, a boy maybe? And I was scared, really scared, and hurt, I had bruises all over. And there was this man, and he came in and — he beat me. It hurt so bad. And then it’s like I knew that when I passed out he was going to —” 

“— enough. Stop that’s — that’s enough.” 

Higgs had turned his back to you, his hands clenched by his sides, knuckles white as he stood tall and still. His shoulders were square, his back muscles flexed tight as his chest expanded and contracted drastically, his breaths deep and laboured. He was visibly shaking, his muscles trembling as his mind started to sink back into that all too familiar world of your dream. The pain, the fear, the hurt — all real again — and now being joined by the feeling of sympathy that he felt course through the golden cord in his chest. His back still to you, he turned his head in your direction, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

You felt a wave of distress course through you, Higgs’ emotions flowing through the cord and mixing with your own. Something was terribly wrong, and the realisation hit you like a tonne of bricks.

“That was you wasn’t it?” 

“Don’t.”

Higgs’ voice was small, his back still to you as he seemed to shrink three sizes. 

“I — I dreamt a memory didn’t I? Of you — as a child?” 

Higgs turned to face you, taking a few steps towards the bed like he intended to barrel straight at you. But he stopped himself short, his hands shaking as he held them awkwardly by his sides, shaking them in indecision. 

“Don’t. Don’t you dare sympathise with me. Don’t you fuckin’ dare!”

But you couldn’t help it, your heart aching remembering how scared you’d felt, how scared Higgs had felt. The fear that his tiny body had felt in the face of that unavoidable pain. You’d felt the exact, agonising moment that his fear had turned into acceptance. Acceptance of something that horrible. An acceptance that would only come from experiencing it so often that your mind has no choice but to learn to tolerate it. Learning to fawn instead of fight back. That tiny boy — 

“Stop it! Stop thinkin’ about me like that!” 

Higgs sunk to his knees, crouching low before letting himself fall to the floor, his knees brought up to his chest, just like you’d seen him do as his tiny body had trembled with fear. 

Your golden cord erupted with emotion, the same emotion you’d felt in the dream. Your focus was drawn to his hands, desperately clutching his temples as if trying to prevent the memories from flooding out and swallowing him whole. Those were the hands that had delivered your family their death warrants, the hands of a terrorist, a murderer, a monster. But right now, they were shaking uncontrollably, weak and vulnerable. They were the hands of a man who was currently right back in the memory of that room, small and afraid, unable to prevent the pain. 

You weren’t really sure what prompted you to do what you did next.

You hated this man, the one currently curled into a trembling ball of defence. He deserved no kindness, no gentle affection. He was a curse, chained to you by some sick twist of fate. He’d killed your family and he’d certainly kill again. He was a stain on the world. A plague. A hideous monster. 

A monster who’d killed thousands. A monster who only knew how to cause pain. A monster who … grew up knowing only pain. A monster who was raised by a monster. A monster who was taught to love with his fists. A monster who — 

“Stop thinking about me like that!” 

A monster whose voice was breaking as he felt your emotions for him travel through your golden cord. A monster who was currently right back in that room, reliving the memory in his mind like he’d done so many times before. A monster who didn’t deserve the abuse, the adult pain that was forced onto his tiny body. 

A monster that now had your fingers caressing his hair as you crouched down in front of him.

A monster that didn’t take kindly to your attempt at gentle comfort. 

Higgs lunged, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he off-balanced you, pushing you back to the floor with his full weight. In defence, you brought your free hand up to his chest, an attempt to push him away that faltered when your fingers met bare skin. You recoiled them away in indecision before returning them, feeling his damp skin as you pushed against his shoulder. But it was no use, he was immovable as he hovered above you, face inches from yours as his chest heaved violently. 

“Don’t you dare comfort me. Don’t you dare!”

As you looked up at the man who whose distress was causing him to tremble above you, it was as if you were looking at a face you’d never seen. This wasn’t the same Higgs you’d seen before. This was someone new. 

His eyes weren’t burning like hot blue flames, they were a deep dark ocean with the gravitational pull of a maelstrom. An ocean with the promise of a slow agonising death as it sucks you into its deadly whirlpool.

There was pain in his eyes that seemed to double as it was projected through his tears, his lower lids a dam ready to overflow at any moment. 

His cheeks looked sunken, no smirk or cheeky grin to plump up his cheekbones. His jaw was held tight, his teeth, hidden behind his twitching lips, undoubtedly clenched. Each breath traveled through him like it was causing him pain, staggered and heaving, both in and out. 

He spoke with an anger that you could tell was a defensive response to the genuine distress he was feeling along with it. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways. I — I can’t handle you giving it to me both ways. You can’t switch like that. You don’t get to just think I’m just the villain, just the man who killed your family, and then next minute feel sorry that my Daddy used to take his rage out on me.”

Your eyelids flickered shut briefly as a tear landed just below your eye, rolling down your cheek as they continued to fall from Higgs’ eyes above. 

His tone was dressed as rage, a costume acting as an armour, protecting the true emotion underneath. 

You could feel it through the cord, the deep sorrow, the insecurity mixed with a yearning to be understood. You could sense the unease within him, like he wasn’t even sure he meant what he was saying, like he didn’t even really understand what he was feeling. You felt his feelings through the cord — the feelings of not a monster, but a man. 

A man who’d been raised to believe that love was violent. A man who’d decided long ago to push people away in order to avoid the hurt that love caused. A man who’d used violence to keep people from getting too close. A man who had been forcefully connected to you, and was now being forced to confront those disgusting feelings. A man who didn’t know how to interpret the unfamiliar emotions that he was being forced to confront. 

A man who could feel the exact emotions you were feeling about him right now. 

“Stop lookin’ at me like that!” 

With a forceful push of your body down against the floor, Higgs chiral jumped, appearing on his feet a few meters away from you. He begun moving with a visible sense of unease, pacing as his hands hovered around in front of his body, as if unable to decide the most comforting place for them to rest. He spoke while alternating between facing you over his shoulder and turning away, but never once meeting your gaze. 

“You don’t get to play with me like that! You don’t get to hate me ’n then pity me. Pick one! Either one is fine. Hell, I’ll take the fucking spite. But don’t you dare switch between the two like that. There’s either more to me than you first thought, or there ain’t. You can’t have it both ways. It ain’t fair! You have to fuckin’ pick one. I can’t stand the heartache that the switch between the two causes.”

You’d risen to your feet, now standing while you watched Higgs’ fidget uncomfortably on the spot, unsure of what to say or do in response to this outburst of honesty. Your own feelings were conflicted. For the first time, your hatred wasn’t the only emotion you felt about him. It was now being met with an opposing view, one that couldn’t coexist with hatred. 

Your own chest ached as you tried to consolidate your feelings, and you could tell by the way Higgs darted his eyes towards you, that he could feel it too. He then defaulted to his most defensive tactic, a mask to protect from further harm. Threat. 

Higgs closed the distance between the two of you in a few long steps, moving to tower over you from above, his proximity intended to strengthen the threat of his words. His tone was harsh and implicitly a threat. 

“Stop looking at me like that, or I’ll make the decision for you.” 

You looked up at him, neck craned as you met his gaze. His eyes reflected an emotion that differed from his tone. Sorrow and confusion. You knew his words were being used as a defence, a threat to keep you at a distance in order to prevent you from causing anymore pain. You could feel his distress and confusion through the cord — you knew it was what was real, not the threat. But his tone had snapped you right back to that feeling of hatred. 

“Get the fuck out of my bunker.” 

Higgs huffed a small breath from his nose as a smirk crossed his lips. A feigned smirk that contradicted the sadness that still swam in his eyes. 

“With pleasure.” 

With a flash, he as gone, leaving fine particles of chiral dust glistening around you as they slowly pooled around your feet. 

TO BE CONTINUED ♡

A Brand New World Chapter 1: The Goodbye, a big bang theory fanfic | FanFiction

A Brand New World By: Risknight

Summary: Penny can no longer take the anger, pain and unhappiness that is her life. So, she makes some big changes, starting with her circle of friends.

Rated: T - Chapters: 40 - Words: 60,679 - Updated: Feb 16, 2014 - Published: Jan 1, 2014 - Status: Complete

My bookmark: this is the one where penny becomes really close to wil and gets a whole new nerdy friend group that includes stuart and captain sweatpants. the vibes are kinda weird. everyone also goes to comic con.

His Second Chance Chapter 27

Heather’s POV

I was standing in the bedroom with a suitcase on the bed packing a few things for New Year’s Tyler had booked us a trip to a bed and breakfast so we can have a little time together before we found what the gender of the baby was, I look up and smile when he walks in the room I drop a shirt on the bed and wrap arms around his waist before looking up at him he leans in then kisses me slowly. “How are you feeling darlin?’ he asks softly I rub his side lightly "fine just a little hungry.” He smiles then kisses my head “Take a break from packing for a little bit and we will go get something to eat?” I smile and nod quickly he squeezes my hand before walking out of the room I grab my shoes then walk downstairs not only looking forward to getting something to eat but also for our trip in a few more days.

A FEW DAYS LATER

Tyler’s POV

I give my dad the last minute instructions on cleaning the stall and feeding Hot Shot, Titan walks next to the two of us as we walk around together I look at my dad as we stop by the fence “As for Titan we feed him in the morning and let him out in the yard in the afternoon Heather takes him out and plays with him and gives him treats then around six we feed him again and he goes out one more time before bed.” He chuckles softly then grabs my shoulders and squeezes them “Son we have had horses, cows and dogs since before you were born I can handle all of this while you were gone relax go and enjoy yourself.” I take a deep breath and nod quickly before patting him on the back “Thanks dad we really appreciate you doing this for us.” I tell him sincerely I go to the porch and put our bags in the back seat, I help Heather off the porch once the door is locked then help her into the truck I couldn’t wait for this trip before we had the baby.

Heather’s POV

As Tyler drives down the road I relax and lean back in the seat I look out the window and sigh softly as I rub my stomach gently “What’s on your mind darlin?” he asks as he starts rubbing my hand. I look over at him and smile “I was wondering if we should start talking about names since we find out what we are having in a few weeks?” He grins before looking back at the road “You’re right it wouldn’t hurt to come up with a few ideas?” I sit and think for  a few moments “If it’s a boy how about Henry Tyler Owens? I remember you telling me that it was your grandfather’s name and he was really important to you? and he would also be named after you?” I suggest then bite my lip gently. He slows down then clears his throat before squeezing my hand “That really means a lot to me thank you I think that would be the perfect name for our little boy.” I smile then lean over and kiss his cheek I was glad he was happy with the boy name. As he continues driving he looks over at me “Anything for a girl?” I sit and tap my fingers for a few minutes “Gone with the Wind is one of my favorite movies what do you think of Scarlett Rose Owens?” I ask wondering if it sounded strange. “Scarlett Rose?” he says it a few more times before nodding and smile he looks over at me. “Our little Scarlett Rose it’s perfect and different it will suit our daughter perfectly.” I relax and kiss his jaw lightly it was becoming more real that we were close to becoming a family and I couldn’t wait to find out if we would be meeting Henry or Scarlett.

@hunterthecharmer @friedchips94 @djs8891 @coloraturadiva @echoingbirdsofprey @rootedinrevisions @crossskylinesandcontrails

When curtains fall

warnings: men being stupid and oblivious, protective/possessive Sally

word count: 2.3k

CHAPTER 5 : The Dressing Room Door Slam Heard Across Berlin

The backstage hallway of the Kit Kat Club buzzed with the usual pre-show chaos: dancers stretching, musicians tuning, and props spilling onto the floor like confetti after a parade. Normally, you could navigate it with a casual grin, exchanging nods with performers, sharing quiet jokes. Tonight, though, it felt like a pressure cooker.

Sally was tense. Not the usual playful, chaotic sort of tension that came from last-minute costume changes or nervous energy before a number. This was protective tension. Every flick of her eyes scanned the room, each step toward the stage deliberate, alert, as if she could sense trouble before it even reached you.

“Darling,” Sally whispered, taking your hand. Her grip was tight, almost anxious. “Stay close.”

“I’m right here,” You said, squeezing back.

She shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. They’re all around. Everyone’s looking, and I see it. I always see it.”

Before you could respond, the door to her dressing room slammed open. The sound made you flinch, and Sally’s hand instinctively clutched yours like a lifeline. She was pissed that you got startled.

Max stepped in, hair disheveled, clipboard in hand, eyes widening slightly as he took in the scene. He already knew about you and Sally, thanks to the alleyway incident. But that didn’t stop his jaw from dropping at the sight of her pacing, hand clasping yours, eyes ablaze.

“Sally…” He began, raising his hands defensively. “I know. I know you’ve got someone, but… wow. You’re really not playing around tonight, huh?”

Sally’s gaze sharpened. “Max,” Sally began, voice low and pointed. “I’m protecting her. You’ve seen her. You know how persistent they are, to put it mildly. Don’t act like this is theatrics.”

Max glanced at you nervously. “I— I get it. I just—”

“No ‘justs’,” Sally snapped. Her finger jabbed at him, not violently but with lethal precision. “I’ve dealt with enough eyes on her tonight to last a lifetime. And I am not negotiating over this.”

You felt her tense body pressed against yours. It wasn’t the Sally Bowles of the stage—wild, chaotic, untouchable—it was Sally Bowles, mine, every protective instinct blazing.

Moments later, the music kicked in. Sally glided onto the stage, every sway and hip roll dripping with both seduction and warning. Patrons cheered, but she didn’t acknowledge them fully. Her gaze flicked constantly to you, then to the cluster of patrons who had lingered near your table.

One man, bold and oblivious, leaned in as if he had every right to your attention. That was all it took. Sally’s eyes narrowed, the playful performer instantly becoming a predator.

She moved like a coiled spring across the stage. Each step, each toss of her hair, each provocative glance was a deliberate message of, ‘hands off’.

When she reached the part of her routine where she could point theatrically into the crowd, she did—straight at him. The audience gasped, thinking it was part of the show. The man froze.

“You can look,” she sang, voice dripping with danger and honey, “but you cannot touch.” The man shrank back, muttering something under his breath, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Sally’s glare. From backstage, Max muttered to himself, a mix of awe and exasperation. “She’s… she’s terrifying.”

Greta sighed, “This isn’t news, Max.”

When the lights dimmed for intermission, the adrenaline didn’t fade. Sally pulled you into a quiet corner of the dressing room, away from the bustle.

Her chest heaved. Lips parted as she tried to speak but couldn’t. Finally, she exhaled, “Do you know how terrifying it is?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” You said softly. “I felt it too.”

“No,” Sally insisted. “Not from you. From the thought that someone could reach for you and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. On stage, I’m untouchable. But off stage? With you?”

You stroked her hair. “You protected me. You made sure nothing happened. That’s enough.”

Her nails dug into your waist, a tiny tremor running through her body. “It’s never enough. I just… I want to hold you safe forever.”

“You do,” You assured her, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes. “And I see it. I see you. Both versions. All sides, all of it.”

She blinked, as if unsure she’d heard right. “You love both?”

“I do,” you whispered. “Stage Sally, the wild, chaotic creature everyone else fears… and the one who collapses into my arms after a performance, who worries about every little thing, who’s mine. I love everything that makes you who you are. I love you, Sally.”

Her lips quivered in the faintest smile. “Mine,” she echoed, before pressing her forehead to yours. “I just… I never want to be ordinary with you.”

“You’re not,” you said, brushing a stray curl from her face. “Never. You’re brilliant.”

After a few moments, she straightened, smoothing her stockings and adjusting her costume. “Go on,” You urged gently. “Go back out there.”

Her hand lingered on yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll come back for you,” she promised. “Every time.”

She left the dressing room, stage lights claiming her. You watched her strut, glitter catching the glow, hips swinging with a precision that only the Kit Kat Club could understand.

Backstage, the murmurs began. Patrons whispered about her glare during the last song. Dancers smirked knowingly. Max shook his head with a mix of admiration and exhaustion. He’d seen her jealousy before, but tonight, she’d weaponized it onstage— and he could tell you had survived unscathed only because of it.

Sally’s eyes found yours across the room. The moment was brief but infinite: the chaotic stage persona, the protective, possessive woman, and the tender girl who came home to you—all in one look.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of music, applause, and careful glances. Sally performed like the icon she was, but she never took her eyes off you for long. And you didn’t need anyone else to see it: she belonged to you, in every sense, wild and vulnerable alike. Her job was just that, a job. Something necessary that she also happened to enjoy, so bills could be paid. So that she could pamper you, love you.

The door slammed shut behind you and Sally as you walked out of the club that night, startling the dancers and Max— Max deserved it. He basically picked a fight with her over an issue that had a clear cut answer. Sally was done talking about her being serious about the relationship. It’s been established, but Mad…well he was something else, seemingly unable to wrap his head around the fact.

After the show, the streets of Berlin were quiet compared to the club even as it prepared to close for the night. The cold night air biting at your cheeks as you and Sally walked back to your apartment. She was still in costume—lingering glitter on her stockings, a faint trace of stage perfume clinging to her neck. Her hand found yours without thinking, fingers interlacing like a promise.

“You know,” she murmured, leaning her head against your shoulder, “I could walk a mile in these heels if I had to, but I’m glad it’s you waiting at the end.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“And yet,” she said with a sly grin, “you love it.”

The apartment building was quiet, warm light spilling from a few upper windows. You unlocked the door, and the familiar smell of home—coffee, old books, and just a hint of your perfume—greeted you. Inside, the difference from the club was immediate. Gone were the spotlights, the cheering, the scent of smoke and gin. Here, the space was calm, intimate, lived-in.

Your apartment had its own personality. The walls were painted a soft cream, decorated with framed photographs from past trips and small prints of abstract art Sally had insisted on choosing. A faded Persian rug covered the living room floor, cozy underfoot, and the sofa was piled with mismatched cushions that had been slowly accumulated over months. A small collection of plants thrived in the corner, their leaves brushing the sunlit walls during the day. And, tucked on a shelf in the bedroom, a single feathered boa that wasn’t hers—the one she had once loaned you to wear during a silly home rehearsal.

Sally dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her heels, immediately padding across the apartment in bare feet. You followed her into the living room, noting the contrast: from spotlighted predator to barefoot girl, small and real.

She flopped onto the sofa dramatically, curling into your side. “I swear,” she said softly, “I can be a goddess for three hours, but the minute I get home, I’m… like this. Ordinary.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple. “Ordinary, yes. But also perfect.”

Sally exhaled, a shiver running through her. “I never get to be ordinary at the club. Stage Sally doesn’t sleep, she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t—”

“—worry about who’s looking at her girlfriend?” you supplied gently. She hummed, a soft laugh escaping. “Exactly.”

The apartment’s quiet seemed to envelope her, letting her guard down. She rested her head against your chest, tugging your hand to her cheek. “I can breathe here,” She whispered. “I can actually feel safe here. Even after tonight.”

You wrapped your arm around her, letting her relax completely. “I like seeing this side of you,” you admitted. “The side that isn’t yelling at the audience, flirting for survival, or fending off idiots. Just…you.”

Sally shifted, looking up at you with a small, vulnerable smile. “You know,” She continued softly, “I wonder if anyone will ever see both sides. The stage side and the home side. I wonder if they’d even care.”

“I care, I see you.” You said simply. “And that’s enough.”

She laughed lightly, burying her face in your shoulder. “You always know the right things to say. That’s unfair. But you are right— that’s enough, because you are all that really matters to me. And you see me, take care of me.”

Your arms around her tightened, fingers threading through her curls. You feel the movement of her breaths, which anchored you greatly.

The two of you settled into your little post-show rituals. Sally kicked off her stockings, leaving glittering traces on the rug. You brought her a warm cup of tea, the steam curling between you. She sipped it slowly, eyes half-closed, savoring the comfort and quiet that was impossible at the club.

She leaned back against the sofa, resting her feet on your lap. “Do you know what I love about home?” Sally asked. “I can’t fake anything here. Not glamour, not confidence, not… pretending I’m untouchable. I can just…”

“You can just be you,” you finished, brushing her hair behind her ear.

She nodded, eyes drifting around the apartment. “I like the books on the shelf. The way the rug feels under my feet. The little lamp in the corner that isn’t anywhere near perfect, but it’s ours. I like that I can crawl onto this sofa and not have to worry about anyone thinking less of me for it.”

You leaned down, kissing the top of her head. “And I like that you trust me enough to be yourself here.”

Sally exhaled, pressing her cheek into your chest. “Sometimes I feel like the club doesn’t see me at all. Only a version of me I’ve carefully crafted to survive. But you… you see the real me.”

“I see both of you,” You replied softly. “The stage Sally, the home Sally, the one you don’t even know exists yet. And I love all of them.”

She gave a small, contented hum, fingers entwining with yours. “Then I suppose I should stop worrying so much about appearances. At least here.”

Later, she curled entirely into your lap, her head resting against your chest, one hand clutching yours while the other played absent-mindedly with the edge of your shirt. The contrast from the club was staggering: from the loud, chaotic, dazzling performer to this quiet, fragile version of herself.

“I’m scared sometimes,” Sally admitted, voice low. “Scared that someone will see the home side and think I’m weak. Or not worth it.”

“You’re not weak,” You whispered. “And anyone worth your time will see both sides and love them. I’m glad I get to be that person.”

She tilted her head, gazing up at you with a mixture of mischief and vulnerability. “Even my moments of jealousy?”

“Especially your moments of jealousy,” you said, laughing softly. “They’re part of what makes you…you.”

Sally’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “I suppose even I can’t be perfect all the time.”

“No one expects you to be,” You murmured, tracing a finger along her arm, “You’re human, Sal.”

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. “Promise me,” She whispered, “that I don’t have to be perfect anywhere but here with you.”

“I promise.” You said.

For the first time since stepping onto the stage that night, she exhaled fully, letting go of the tension that had coiled through her muscles for hours.

“You’re my safe place,” Sally muttered. “The only place I can really breathe.”

“And you’re mine,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “Always.”

She smiled faintly, nuzzling closer, glitter still clinging to her stockings, makeup smudged in all the right ways, hair slightly mussed—the real Sally, unguarded and yours.

“Home,” She mumbled, voice thick with sleep, “Is better than any spotlight.”

You kissed her again, gently, tenderly, and held her through the quiet night, “Home. You are home. I’ve got you, my love.”

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