#& then it warms up & then it snows again. repeat until like May

[pa-pa-plasma]

i feel like a lot of people ignore the fact that in a lot of places, bicycling just. cannot be done for half the year, & that's why public transport being good is important. i cannot bike in 5 feet of snow & ice or in 40c heat. i can't even walk in that, unless i have the energy to snowshoe or a bucket of ice water to chug.

"but I can do it!" good for you. unfortunately i live in Berk (snowing for 9 months of the year & hailing the other 3) & cannot unless i want to die. also disabled people exist. & children. & people who live in a place where everything is no closer than 30 minutes away, & 30 minutes in -30c can kill you if you can't afford a good pair of boots & a good coat. i may have bike paths but the river floods past them every year. what do i do then? bike on the highway?? just let me take the train

[lena-after-dark]

Pairing: Dark!Namor x Reader

Prompt: "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I'll catch you."

Requested By: Anon

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, obsession at first sight.

You were on vacation the first time you felt him near. Of course then you didn't know what it was that haunted you through the waters.

The warm waves of the Atlantic washed all around you as you swam from the beach. You went as far as you felt safe to go, pausing to enjoy the sunshine and to sneak a peak at the marine life below. You were unsure how long you were in the water before you felt it. You knew there was a presence near you. You felt the pressure shift in the water, closing around you. Upon inspection, you saw nothing that would cause such a disturbance. But each time you stepped into the sea, you had the feeling that something was there - watching you.

That looming feeling of eyes upon you didn't let up, even after you were home. Though it was gone for a while, it came rushing back one rainy evening. It was enough to make you double check the locks on every door and window in your home. You peered outside and saw nothing. Always nothing. Except when the lightning flashed and there was a figure seemingly floating in the air. You only saw it once, and shrugged it off as your imagination.

Always when it was raining. That's when you'd feel it. That's when you'd see things. It was maddening. The figure only appeared when you were home - and when it was dark. Never when you could find proof that something was there.

Until you started receiving gifts, that was. Handcrafted jewelry and ornate shells appeared at your doorstep. And once on your windowsill - inside. That was enough to make you leave your home. And once again, the occurrences halted - for a time. Then you saw it again, not long after you'd moved. The figure floating in air. The shape of a man. You tried to capture an image, but it was gone before you could.

You had to get out of town again. This time to the mountains. The snow was a welcome distraction.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

You were alone on the balcony of the lodge - sipping a hot drink and enjoying the setting sun. Something about him seemed familiar, though you didn't think you'd met him before. The glare of the sun obscured your view slightly.

"Yeah, it is. You're staying here as well?"

"Not exactly." The rich timbre of his voice was soothing. And yet something felt off. "Just visiting. It's very quiet around this lodge. You're the first person I've seen. Forgive my intrusion. I'm... Namor. May I ask your name?"

You told him your name out of compulsory politeness. He turned to face you, repeating your name with a smile. You could see him clearly now. He looked out of place - as if he were uncomfortable in the clothing he was wearing. Nothing in the style of his sweater or hat matched his earrings - and they unnerved you at the sight of them. They looked to be the same craftsmanship of the jewelry you'd been receiving. Or perhaps it was just a coincidence. You complimented them, testing the waters.

"You like them? Perhaps I'll have to get you a pair." You let out a nervous chuckle. It was time to leave. You made up a quick lie about needing to go and stood, noticing that he wasn't wearing any shoes.

"I'll see you again soon," he said as a goodbye. He sounded so charming. But there was something dark in the phrase. It was a promise. You dared a last glance at him and saw that he hadn't taken his eyes off of you. That familiar feeling was back tenfold.

Namor kept his promise. When you returned home, a pair of green earrings was waiting inside. You weren't delusional. This man - or whatever he was - was following you. Could he fly? What was he? There were so many questions, and no answers to any of them. And now that he'd appeared before you, certainly things were going to escalate. You had to leave again. You moved only when it was bright and dry as a bone outside. You were careful - leaving no trace of where you might've gone. You installed a camera, extra locks, everything you could think of.

You thought you were rid of him. Through stormy nights you didn't see or feel anything out of the ordinary. No gifts were left for you to find. No figure floating outside your window.

Apparently he just needed time to find you.

Your face to face meeting had made him bolder. You saw him again - hovering outside your window as the rain fell. This time he didn't disappear. This time he flew to the glass, placing his hand against it as he looked inside at you.

You scrambled away, trying to alert the authorities. It didn't matter if they didn't believe you. You needed to know someone was on the way to you.

Namor was inside before you could give dispatch your address. He was behind you with his hand wrapped around yours, pulling the phone from your ear and ending the call. The other was around your mouth, preventing you from yelling. He shushed you when you yelled into his hand - as if he were attempting to soothe you.

"I have to admit, I am enjoying our game of cat and mouse."

You pulled away from him, and he let you. When you faced him, a grin had spread across his lips.

"Did you like the earrings," he ended his question with something in a language you didn't understand. Most likely a term of endearment.

"Get out. Now. The cops will be here any moment." He chuckled at that, and paid the thin threat no mind.

"I think I'll keep our game going a little longer," he said as he stepped closer. You instinctively stepped back, and he continued forward until you were against a piece of furniture and couldn't retreat any further. He reached his hand out and ran his knuckles against the side of your arm. The touch sent shivers down your spine.

"I'll give you two weeks this time before I look for you again."

No matter what you said, or what questions you asked, he had no interest in elaborating. Whatever his intentions were in the end, he kept them from you. He wouldn't tell you why he was there, what he wanted from you, nothing.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.” 

He left through the window, flying into the darkness so quickly that he barely looked like a shadow across the sky.

Buy Me a Coffee?

[allywthsr]

FIRST SNOW | (l.norris)

summary: your toddlers first snow

wordcount: 1.9k words

pairing: dad!landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: kids

notes: I need dad Lando 🥹, what do you think about this?

advent calendar

It was the beginning of December and by some miracle, it snowed. Almost two years ago, you gave birth to your son, Louis, with Lando by your side. He was holding your hand, feeding you ice cubes when you wanted to eat and supported you in the best way possible during the long hours of Labour. Last year Louis was not even a year old and he was mostly sitting somewhere, playing with his toy cars that daddy had gifted him, from his last gp, so he didn’t really notice the white landscape last year, but this year was different.

This year, he woke you up with his hands banging on the big floor to ceiling window and blabbering the word: ’snow‘ continuously. He was a little rascal and knew how to focus the attention on him, but just like his father, he liked to be in the background and figure out stuff for himself.

So when Lando woke up and saw his son being fascinated by the snow, he knew he had to make it memorable. He shook you awake and you woke up, startled, ”Lando, what’s up?“

”It snowed! Louis is up and all excited, look at him.“

You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at your little brown curly haired boy. From the beginning he was a Lando copy, there was no denying that he was his child. For a second you wondered if you he had anything from you, because he seemed like Lando, but as the time was running, he turned more into a mini you. He may look like Lando, but his personality was all you. When he didn’t get something he wanted, he had the same facial expression as you have, Lando knew that all to well, when he forgot your chocolate again or he didn’t take the trash out, as he promised.

”I can’t wait to clean the window again, just like last week. Why does your son always have to touch the windows like that?“

”My son?“

”When he‘s of doing mischievous things, he‘s yours“, you smiled at Lando. That obviously wasn’t true, you loved Louis no matter what he did.

”Louis, do you want to join mummy and me on the bed?“

With his naked little feet he waddled towards the bed and held his arms up, he wasn’t tall enough yet to climb up the bed, but he was trying. Lando quickly grabbed him under his arms and hoisted him on the mattress, he immediately laid down between you two.

”Can you believe he‘s almost two?“

”He grew up so fast.“

Louis was cuddling with Lando while everyone enjoyed the silence, he was laying on top of his daddy and snuggled closer to his chest, he was super clingy during the mornings, it was your favorite sight to see.

After a few minutes, Louis had enough and tried to get off of Lando, he carefully sat him down on the ground and he ran back to the window. With his fingers he pointed to the snow and kept saying ’go‘. With a sigh you both peeled out of the warm, comforting bed, you loved having a child, but sometimes you wished you could stay in bed until noon again.

”Let’s get you ready, shall we? Mummy can change into her winter clothes already“, he looked at you and waited for you to confirm that with a nod. You quickly did so and kissed Lando’s lips and Louis head, they disappeared in the hallway and you went to the en-suite bathroom to at least wash your face before you changed into some warm clothes. You could hear the giggles from your two boys even in the bedroom, you loved how happy Louis was, especially with Lando. He was his hero. Whenever you couldn’t join a race and stayed home, you were watching every session with Louis and he blabbered ’da da da da da da‘ on repeat. His words were still limited but he learned something new every day, just yesterday he learned how to fist-bump Lando, something both of them were proud of.

His first word, to no surprise, was ’car‘ but once he said it, the c turned into a d and now it was ’dar‘, no matter how hard you tried to get him to say it correctly again, it was no use. Lando was super happy his first word was car and he told it everyone, whether they wanted to hear it, or not. Everyone loved Louis, you had taken him to a few races, but only ones that were near to home and he was never put in the direct spotlight. It wasn’t like you hid him from the world, but he didn’t need to be photographed and put on the internet. He loved sitting in Lando’s ’dar‘ and playing around with Jon or Oscar, McLaren had organized an extra room only for Louis, so when stuff got too much and he needed time to calm down, he was able to do so, in his room. In there was a comfy couch, blankets, pillows and a lot of toys. They even put up a small ball-pit in the corner and Louis loved it, the balls were thrown around the room and smashed against each other. The whole grid was hypnotized whenever Louis was around, drivers came around just to see the little Lando and play with him for a while, giving you and Lando a small time out.

But back to where we were.

Lando came in to the bedroom with Louis on his hip, when you pulled your hoodie over your head.

”Can you put his jacket and stuff on? I want to get ready too.“

With a nod you opened your arms and Louis did the same, signaling he wants to be held by you. You two went to the entrance hall, where his jacket and his shoes were waiting for him, he wasn’t the biggest fan of getting dressed, but he endured it, probably too excited for the snow.

”Do you have your winter jacket?“, Lando screamed from your closet.

”Yes, baby!“

You pulled a hat on Louis's head and wrapped a scarf around his neck, before putting on gloves on his little hands. You did the same for yourself, so you were prepared for the cold that was about to hit you when you opened the door.

Lando came running down the stairs and stared at the sight in front of him, you sitting on the floor while your son is excitingly ’jumping‘ around, it wasn’t jumping, more like stomping his shoe-covered feet on the ground.

”Family, you ready?“, he said after putting on his jacket and shoes.

Louis was blabbering the word ’yes‘ over and over again, before lifting his arms towards Lando, indicating he wanted to be picked up.

”Do we want to just go out in the backyard or should we walk to my parents and ask for a sleigh? Maybe we can have breakfast with them.“

”Let’s go to your parents, baby, good idea. Louis, you ready to see nana and pops?“

He clapped his hands and put his head on Lando’s shoulder, Lando kissed him on his cheek and you opened the door. A wave of cold air blew you in the face, and you looked at Louis, who was looking confused.

”Is that cold sweetheart?“

Louis nodded and pointed to the ground where everything was white. Lando walked with him to the front yard, ”Do you want to go down?“, Louis clung to his daddy, ”I‘ll take that as a no.“

With a quiet giggle, Lando kissed his cheek once more, Louis was just as shy as Lando was as a kid, it was adorable.

”But Louis, look, it’s snow!“, you bend down and picked up some snow to show it to Louis, his small fingers slowly touched it. With his gloves on, he couldn’t notice the coldness, so Lando pulled off one of his gloves and he touched it again. Quickly he pulled his hand away, when he noticed how cold it was, he started blabbering with Lando, probably complaining about how cold it is.

Lando put on his glove again and put him down, Louis was walking around the front yard and Lando held out his hand, which Louis took.

Slowly you three made the way to Lando’s parents, who were living just a five-minute walk away from your house. You loved Lando with Louis, how gentle he was, how patient, was the five-minute walk, ten minutes longer because Louis couldn’t walk as fast? Yes. Did Lando annoy that? Absolutely not. Normally Lando was impatient, but he learned with Louis that he had to take things slow.

When you arrived at the house, Cisca opened the door and was excited to see you three, Louis was walking towards her, he was excited to see his grandma again. She lifted him on her hip and kissed both of you on the cheek as a greeting, together with Louis she walked to the living room, where Adam was sitting.

”The future Formula One racer!“, Adam opened his arms and Cisca was giving Louis to him. Louis was happy about that and kept talking to Adam, sure it sounded more like gibberish but he was getting better with the talking every day.

”We wanted to ask if we could borrow the sleigh and pull him across the backyard?“

”Of course honey, it’s in the shed somewhere.“

”I‘ll go look“, Lando got up and walked to the backyard.

Cisca started to talk with you about everything, when Louis ran to the window, ”da da!“.

”Yes, Daddy is outside, should we join him?“

He nodded and you opened the glass door, and he ran to Lando. Lando crouched down and opened his arms, in which Louis ran, lifting him up and holding him on his hip.

”That’s a sleigh, if you sit on it, we can pull you across here, what do you think?“

”Sleigh!“

”I think he likes the idea, Lando“, you giggled at your son's antics of pointing to different things that were covered in snow.

Lando put him on the sleigh, grabbed the handles, and carefully towed him through the white backyard. It was the sweetest thing, how Louis's face lit up when he felt the movements of the sleigh and saw it gliding over the snow, you couldn’t resist taking a few pictures and videos.

After two big rounds, Lando stopped to see if he had enough, but the shouts out of Louis‘ mouth with the word: ’more‘ showed that he definitely had not enough, so Lando kept pulling him through the snow, and with every round he grew more tired. He may be a high performance athlete, but pulling your almost two-year-old son on a sleigh through thick snow is still tiring.

So after three more rounds, Lando tried to distract Louis by building a snowman, which worked. At first, he was skeptical about why daddy was rolling around a ball of snow, but once Lando put the second ball on top of the first, Louis was sold. He helped rolling the third ball around and couldn’t stop laughing when Lando placed sticks as his arms, and little rock’s as his face, when Cisca brought a carrot outside, he was almost falling over how hard he was laughing and soon all of you were laughing at how much fun Louis had during his first snow. Oh, how you couldn’t wait for next year.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 17)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

“People of Panem, we fight, we-” Katniss freezes, staring at her own reflection. Makeup done, hair styled to perfection, holding up a stick for the camera. This isn’t real. This isn’t war.

“Does she know the line?” Plutarch asks, into the microphone, for all to hear.

“I know it.” Katniss shakes her head to clear it.

“She’s just warming up.” Effie explains. Even she has joined the effort, leaving behind her drab quarters for Katniss.

“Alright, let’s go again. Whenever you’re ready.” Plutarch instructs.

Y/N sways, soothing her tired infant to a sleepy submission on the opposite side of the glass. Daisy May is not fond of sleep, especially with the world bustling around her.

Katniss gets back down on one knee. This is take three.

“Maybe if you show her.” Cashmere whispers to Y/N.

“Might not be a bad idea.” Plutarch watches the mockingjay, with a hand to his head.

“Yeah?” Y/N is willing to try.

“Here,” Cashmere puts her arms out, “gimme the baby.”

Y/N looks down at her daughter, kissing her tiny nose and handing her off.

She fusses for a moment, in Cashmere’s hold.

“Shh,” the blonde coos, allowing the baby to take a fistful of hair. “It’s ok, my Daisy.”

The little girl sighs, closing her grumpy eyes, never letting go of Cashmere’s waves.

“Ok, Katniss, Y/N’s coming in to do a demonstration. Just follow her lead and we’ll go from there.”

“Yeah, ok.” Katniss’ eyes scan the reflective surface, searching for her.

A second later, her mentor pops through the connecting side door. She is not made up, or wearing some crazy outfit, her stylist squeezed her into; she is just Y/N. Somehow that is enough.

“I’m a method actor, obviously.” Loved her fake husband so much that their staged marriage became a real one.

Not that Haymitch is any better. Content to kiss the ground where she walks, if he couldn’t be with her.

The joke lands only with Plutarch and Cashmere. Katniss thinks she understands, but doesn’t find it all that funny.

“First thing’s first, I’m gonna move around a little, get the blood flowing, get that shortness of breath.”

Katniss moves with her, trotting in place like a show horse.

“Good, now we’ll go down on one knee.” Y/N demonstrates and Katniss follows. “Slowly and with some effort, I’m gonna rise to my feet.”

“Because you’ve just been in battle.”

“Exactly,” Y/N smiles, before her features harden.

She is a thousand miles away, just stormed the outskirts of the Capitol. The ease with which she shifts from one to the other terrifies Katniss.

“People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!”

Even with the wind and the stupid stick in Y/N’s hand, raised in the air, Katniss almost believes it. This is the type of person that fuels a rebellion.

She was the people’s victor. She won her own way, same as Haymitch. So Snow manacled them together and scarred them with his brand.

The more Katniss learns about Y/N the more her heart aches, for the indifference she held toward her for so long. To know her is to love her and it’s a shame that not many people ever did.

“Yes! That was perfect.” Plutarch exclaims, “Katniss, now you try it. Just like that.”

“O-ok,” Katniss stammers.

Y/N moves aside, switching places so that Katniss is on the pedestal.

Katniss repeats the words verbatim, copying Y/N’s performance as best she can. She only agreed to be the face of the revolution after seeing what happened to district twelve. After seeing the reaction to Peeta’s interview with Caesar, she knows this is the only way to protect him.

There’s a slow clap from the corner, growing closer until he steps into view. The top of his blonde hair covered by a dark knit hat. “And that is how a revolution dies.”

Katniss glares at Haymitch, his hand resting at Y/N’s waist, as if no time has passed between them.

“Is this how you greet an old friend?” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

“Maybe I don’t recognize you sober.” Katniss bites out.

“I guess it looks as bad as it feels.”

Y/N turns to him, whispering something Katniss can’t make out.

He offers her a smile and a chaste kiss.

Katniss sees herself and Peeta. The way they might have been, ten years down the line. Peeta would love her like that…and she’d love him the only way she could.

It would bubble up and swell in her chest, until she burst. Just like Haymitch, pouring from an empty cup.

————————————————————————

Katniss sinks down in her chair, as the propo plays for the team. Wishing she could melt into it, disappear. No one’s going to buy this.

Y/N rubs at her back, “it’s not as bad as you think.”

“You’re right,” Haymitch cuts in, “it’s worse.” He’s always been a tough love kind of guy. Even with an infant strapped to his chest, he isn’t brimming with compassion.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “not helping.”

“Indulge me for a moment.” Haymitch holds both hands up in surrender. “Lets everybody think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you.” He moves to the digital display, in front of the meeting table. “One moment where she made you feel something real.”

“Ooo,” Effie waves a hand. “When she volunteered for her sister at the reaping.”

“Excellent example.” Haymitch uses his forearm to clear data from the screen. He’s observed enough of Y/N and her tablet over the years, this technology is no different. “Hope that wasn’t important.” He steals a glance over his shoulder, before scribbling in, ‘volunteer 4 sis,’ with the stylus.

“And when she volunteered for Y/N.”

“When she sang that song for little Rue.”

Haymitch adds it to the list. “You know Effie, I like you better without all that makeup.”

“Well, I like you better sober.” The woman says in return, causing Haymitch to glare at her.

“When she chose Rue for an ally as well.” Beetee chimes in.

“Now, what do all of these things have in common?”

“Nobody told her what to do.” Gale understands better than anyone.

“Unscripted,” Beetee agrees, “yes. So maybe we should just leave her alone.”

“And wash her face.” Boggs narrows his eyes, “she’s still a girl, you made her look thirty-five.”

Katniss smiles at this.

“The opportunities for spontaneity are obviously lacking, here below ground.” Plutarch points out. “So what you’re suggesting is that we toss her into combat?”

“I can’t sanction putting an untrained civilian into combat for effect. This isn’t the Capitol,” Coin argues.

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Put her in the field.” Haymitch knows this is the only way.

“No, we won’t be able to protect her.” The president looks to Y/N now. Surely she is not onboard with this.

“It has to come from her, that’s what people respond to. You want a symbol for the revolution, she cannot be coached into it. Trust me, I know.” Haymitch presses on.

“He’s right,” Y/N sighs. “It’s not ideal but…it’s our only option.”

“Maybe there’s someplace less dangerous.”

“District eight, they sustained heavy bombings last week. No military targets left.”

“We can’t guarantee her safety.”

“You’ll never be able to guarantee my safety,” Katniss adds. “I wanna go.”

“And if you’re killed?” Alma’s words hang heavy between them.

“Make sure you get it on camera.”

————————————————————————

“You realize this is dangerous, let alone highly irresponsible.” Haymitch remarks, watching his wife load her gun. The bullets are color coded; black for regular, yellow are incendiary, and red for explosive. Though they’ve been asked not to fire the red ones down here.

“Yeah.” Y/N cocks the gun, squeezing the trigger and letting the bullet fly. She’s gotten better with practice, now hitting her target at dead center. “You don’t approve?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, Haymitch?”

“As your former mentor, I’m not inclined to advise you waltzing into a war zone.” You search for water. High ground, stay away from the cornucopia.

Y/N nods, “and as my husband?”

“I’m even less inclined.” Though his feelings for her have shifted over the years, the need to protect her is fierce and unwavering.

“I can’t lose Katniss.” Not like we lost Peeta.

“Yeah,” Haymitch huffs, “I get that.”

She sets down her weapon, on the steel table in the training room. “I’m a good shot.”

“You are.”

“I’ve been working on my stamina, I’m almost back to where I was before Daisy.”

Haymitch won’t deny it. “You’ve got good aim, you’re fast, resourceful and a little bit scrappy. You can survive in harsh conditions.” You’re my victor. “But there’s a hole in your uterus the size of a dinner plate.”

“Was,” Y/N corrects him. “The doctors cleared me for this.”

“I watched you almost bleed to death; twice. So you’ll have to forgive me for being reluctant to let you risk your life. I understand that this is important to you-”

She turns, cupping his cheek, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I wouldn’t want you to go either. I love you too much.”

Haymitch affords her a soft grin, “that always gets in the way, doesn’t it?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “somehow I just keep getting sucked in deeper.”

“You keep getting sucked in?” He chuckles. “I was perfectly content on my own for over a decade, before you put your hooks in me.”

At this she laughs, harder than she should. “Don’t make it sound so romantic now.”

Still his arms are around her. Y/N’s at the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that has started growing in with gray peppered throughout and makes him feel every bit his age.

Their lips meet, by her accord or his own; he can’t say for certain. Y/N bids him closer. Deeper, harder, more. I’m yours. Nothing more, nothing less…just hers.

“Stay off him!” Cashmere scolds from the entryway, effectively breaking them apart. “It’s like you’re trying to singlehandedly repopulate this hellhole.”

“Our contribution to this great nation,” Haymitch salutes her.

————————————————————————

“We’ve gotta be quick about this. Get in and get out.” Boggs orders, as they file out of the hovercraft. Nobody wants the mockingjay on the ground for long.

Introductions are brief. Commander Paylor, of district eight, shows them to the makeshift hospital.

Bodies of fallen civilians line the entrance, covered only by tarps. “There’s a mass grave, about two miles west. But I can’t spare the manpower to move them.”

This place is a breeding ground for infection. All the wounded in one place, nothing sterile in sight.

“Don’t film me in there. I can’t help them,” Katniss says to Cressida, as they move farther into the masses.

“Just let them see you,” the woman insists. She left the Capitol for this, she knows what she’s doing.

“Come on,” Y/N gives her shoulder a squeeze.

Katniss opens her mouth to speak but Y/N disappears into the crowd, helping nurse the wounded.

There is someone in the corner; no one tends her, she is alone and clearly suffering. A bucket of water, with a single sponge inside, sits beside her, bandages to the left.

“I’m surprised they let you out just to show face. Thought you were more important than that.” The woman from district eight says.

“I’m not here to show face. I’m here to support Katniss and what I believe in.” Y/N takes a seat, beginning to clean her wounds.

“You sure this is the side you fall on?” She chokes out. “There’s no fancy parties or big houses here.”

Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I never liked the parties and the house wasn’t very homey. The only good thing about it was my family inside.”

“People used to look up to you.”

“That was a long time ago,” Y/N murmurs.

“They will again.” The woman is sure of it, “and when they do, make sure you’re ready. Make sure you stay on the right side of things.”

“I was just trying to survive, couldn’t see beyond that.”

“He’ll kill you for this.” President Snow. “For standing with us.”

Y/N nods, with a tired smile. “Yeah.”

“Then why are you here?”

“This is what I believe in…a new Panem. Where we are equals and have a say in our own lives. It’s worth the risk. It’s gonna take all of us, every person in every district, we all have to fight for it.”

The woman presses her lips together, allowing Y/N to dress her wounds. She says nothing else, looking up at the victor, from time to time. I see you.

It feels good to be seen, by a stranger who owes her nothing. Someone to see her without the tainted film of rose colored glasses.

————————————————————————

“How have things been since your release?” Dr. Aurelius inquires.

“Alright, I guess.” Haymitch is not here of his own free will. “Never gonna be good, given the prohibition you have going on around here. But I’d rather be with my family than locked up a mile away.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“My son’s name is Everest, he’s ten. My daughter, Arista is six and Daisy is four weeks old. Then obviously Y/N and her family. Katniss.” Peeta.

“Were they planned? The children.”

“Yes and no.” Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face.

“Can you explain what that means?”

“I don’t want…” Haymitch pauses, “our children are not burdens, Y/N and I have always said that. Those kids are everything and I don’t want that getting twisted. Ever.”

“Of course.”

“Snow gave us deadlines and we met them. With Everest and Arista, we had a year. In that year Y/N needed to be pregnant.”

“But not Daisy?”

“They screwed around with Y/N’s birth control. We’re fertile people, it doesn’t take much.” Haymitch admits.

“And your marriage, would you call it a happy one?”

“Yes, by my account. But I’m sure she’s told you all about me.” This is a joke, for the most part.

“I can’t say much, as it would be a breach of confidentiality. Still you should know, she speaks highly of you. She loves you very much.”

Haymitch drops his gaze.

“Where did you go just now?”

“Nowhere.” Haymitch brushes it off, “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about Y/N?”

“Isn’t it fucked up how someone like that could love someone me?”

“In what way?” Dr. Aurelius asks.

“I mean you’ve met her.” Haymitch huffs, “had a few sessions.”

“Sure.”

“She’s special.”

The doctor lets him speak.

“She’s a good person. She’s smart and she’s funny and she deserves the world.” Haymitch shifts in the chair, “she got me instead. Not exactly a fair trade.”

“I don’t think she feels that way.” The doctor informs him.

“Hmm,” Haymitch mulls it over.

“From the sound of it, you have always been very protective. Now you tend the children, so she can aide the rebellion. That must be hard for you.”

Haymitch scoffs, “I want to chase her down and bring her back.”

“Then why haven’t you.”

“If you love something, you set it free or some bullshit like that.”

“You love her deeply.”

“Coin offered to ‘dissolve’ our marriage. Did Y/N tell you that?” Haymitch changes the subject.

Aurelius sighs, “she didn’t mention it.”

“Tell me, oh great one, what does that mean?”

“Her mind is made up about you, Haymitch. Whether it’s right or wrong, no matter who deserves what, the heart wants what it wants. You are what she wants.”

“I want her too,” Haymitch snaps.

“You’ve mentioned that you struggle with the fact that Y/N didn’t get to choose you as a partner. Yet each time she does, you cannot accept that she is choosing you. As though you feel unworthy, unlovable.”

“Is that your official diagnosis?” Haymitch wonders, making no effort to confirm or deny.

The doctor flips quickly between entries in his notebook. “There is no distinction in any area of your relationship, a true lack of boundaries. All of your triumphs and failures, all of your sadness and your joy, is either sourced from her or the lives you’ve created together.” Dr. Aurelius tosses both hands up. “The greatest tragedies ever written are love stories, after all.”

Part 18

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

[piedpiperart]

Phantom in Gotham 7

Chapter 6

In no time at all Danny found himself in a nightwing t-shirt with black and gray bat pajama pants, hair a bit damp, and sitting on a soft couch across from Alfred with a cup of warm cocoa in his hands. “I assume you have questions?” Alfred prompted after a moment, setting his teacup down on the matching plate on the coffee table. 

“Um, yeah,”Danny stammered, looking from his cup to Alfred. He sighed,”Sorry, um. I’ve never been kidnapped by a vigilante before, so I’m not exactly sure… what to do here?”

Alfred sighed, not at Danny, but he assumed Alfred hoped the Red Hood might’ve explained a bit more before dropping him off with the man. “No need to worry, Red Hood informed me of your situation, young man. You are welcome to stay here, at the very least until the snow subsides,” Alfred informed him. “Beyond that, please make yourself at home. You may find a few familiar faces around the manor, even.”

“Who? What do you mean?” Danny asked, tilting his head and reminding Alfred of a puppy. 

“You’re residing in Wayne Manor, and I am Master Bruce’s butler,”Alfred winked, and Danny’s eyes widened. “I assume you might know the many children he’s adopted from the news. Currently Masters Damian and Timothy are home, but the others may show up at a later date.”

“The Wayne Manor?” Danny repeated absently. He vaguely recalled Tucker ranting about WayneTech. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Alfred waved gracefully,”You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. There are plenty of empty rooms in this place, and it’s been feeling entirely too empty since Master Jason and Dick moved out.” 

“Well… if you’re sure,”Danny relented, sipping at his mug again. “Are you the only butler here? This place is huge.”

“Quite,” Alfred inclined his head,”There are a few other hired hands, but I am in charge of most things within the manor, such as mealtimes.”

“I could help?” Danny offered, perking up. Living in the Pizzeria left little time for cooking in an actual kitchen, and his core hummed at the prospect of helping the old man. “My parents weren’t great at cooking so my sister and I did most of the cooking around the house.”

Despite no one else but Jason allowed in his kitchen, Alfred’s heart warmed at the offer. “I’d enjoy some company, if you’d care to join me,”Alfred smiled, and Danny’s core hummed happily. Danny smiled back, and Alfred could only hope the boy was better than Dick had been in the kitchen. The poor boy somehow had found a way to set a bowl of cereal on fire that one time. 

Before anyone could add anything else, a small boy about eleven years old walked past the room with an apple in hand. The boy in question halted in his tracks and approached the two on the couches. “Another one?” The boy scoffed, and Danny took a moment to take in the kid’s cat t-shirt and nightwing pajama pants. “Pennyworth, doesn’t Father have enough children? Where is he? I must talk sense into him.”

“Master Danny here was sent for us to look after by the Red Hood,”Alfred forewarned as Danny fidgeted on the couch,”He will be staying with us while the snow is hampering his living conditions. Master Danny, meet Master Wayne’s son, Damian,” Alfred added, turning to Danny. 

“H-hi,” Danny waved awkwardly, unsure of what to say to the kid whose house he’s staying in without Damian knowing. “Nice to meet you?” Danny offered.

Damian just scoffed,”Of course. I bet Hood found him on the streets, didn’t he?”

“Hey, it’s not like I wanted to be here,”Danny shot back, exasperated,”Hood threw me over his shoulder and dragged me here. I’d leave if I could but this place is so big I don’t think I’d be able to find the door.”

Damian frowned, thinking,”You wouldn’t survive the blizzard outside even if you managed to find the door. Besides, you’re here now, might as well take advantage of the manor while you can,” Damian squinted, almost like he was testing Danny.

“I’ll have you know that I would have been perfectly fine out there,”Danny sniffed, and Damian’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’d make an igloo and burrow into it like a polar bear. So don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Tt. Your sense of self-preservation is worrying, and I doubt your ability to make a structurally sound igloo,”The kid concluded, looking out towards the windows covered in snow.“Are you implying the snow is preferable to the manor? Why do you desire a cold death out there over warmth here?”

Danny waved his concerns off,”Your giant castle is nice, I just. I had a space to hide out in, and being kidnapped to stay here was not on my list of things to do today.”

Alfred tutted,”An abandoned building with no heat or water was not adequate housing for this sort of blizzard, young man.”

Damian ignored Danny’s mumble proclaiming that he would have been fine, and stated,”I have concluded that you may be stupid or suicidal, so I will allow you to stay here until the snow lets up, if only to not have your death on my conscience,”Damian nodded, then scowled threateningly,”If you try to leave before I or Pennyworth say so, I will make sure you stay by less than pleasant means.” He stated, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Danny made a face at that, wondering if the kid was joking or not about the ‘less than pleasant means’ that he’d go through if he tried to leave. Did they have cameras here? He wondered if he’d be able to go ghost without anyone noticing. “Do not worry,”Alfred stated, standing up gracefully. “Master Damian has a soft spot for strays, you’ll be welcome here.”

“Um… okay?”Danny said incredulously. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be welcome here, yet his core had latched on to the frail old man like a starving cat to a tuna sandwich. He knew he’d only be able to leave once he’d made sure Alfred, and possibly Damian too, were safe during the blizzard. This day just got weirder and weirder. 

“I’m sure you’re tired. If you’ll follow me, I can show you to the guest bedroom,”Alfred offered, and Danny scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t tired in the least, and he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep at all tonight given his fucked up sleep schedule and his need for less sleep than usual anyway, but he didn’t realize that Alfred was probably tired, and needed to rest for the night. 

“Uh- sure, yeah,”Danny rambled, and the two made a detour to the kitchen to put away the cups before Alfred led Danny down a corridor with some decorations and nameplates attached to some of the doors. 

“You’re right next to Timothy, who should be asleep as of now, but if you have any issues he will be able to help you,” Alfred informed him, opening the door to the biggest room Danny had ever seen (not including Vlad’s). “I shall leave you to retire for now, master Danny, but do try and get some sleep. Breakfast starts at 8am sharp, and is mandatory for all those residing in the house tonight.”

“Do you want any help making breakfast?” Danny offered sincerely. He’d try to go exploring in his ghost form, but he knew he’d be bored and restless most of the night as he decided not to go out patrolling. Might as well try to get an early start on the day, he figured. 

“I don’t see why not,”Alfred conceded. “I usually start around 6:30, but feel free to show up whenever you wake.”

“I’ll be there,” Danny smiled brightly. It’d been so long since he’d been able to cook something with Jazz, despite his lack of appetite, he’d missed it. 

“Goodnight, Master Danny,”Alfred nodded, a soft, fond smile on his face. 

“G’night Alfred,”Danny waved as he left the corridor. He sighed, making his way into the room and face-planting onto the bed. 

What a day, he thought. 

Chapter 8

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Young Love and Old Money

Summary: this series follows the story of Lewis Nixon and Josephine Wills and their trials, tribulation and love throughout WW2, including stories of their friends in between. Warnings: graphic mentions of wounds, swearing, near death experience, grief.

Masterlist

Lonely this winter - Bastogne December 1944

“I don’t know, George. I don’t think I’ll ever feel warm again,” Skip moaned as he shuffled further to the radioman’s side. Julian on the other side of George moaned in agreement. George just sniffled, whipping his nose in the sleeve of his jacket, “I don’t think I can feel my toes anymore.”

“Will you lot quit whining? We’re all cold,” Malarkey moaned, sliding into the foxhole followed by Penkala. The foxhole wasn’t big enough for five men but they made it work, huddling together in a desperate attempt to retain any heat they may have.

“You know what I could do with right now?” Julian looked up at George, his eyes watery and the end of his nose pink, George just wanted to wrap him tighter in his blanket and hold him closer. That was the one good thing about Bastogne, no one ever questioned Julian and George snuggling up together.

“What is it, Jules?”

“I’d really like some of my Ma’s soup. She always had the best vegetable soup, it’s all warm and thick and tasty.”

“No stop. I can hear my stomach rumbling,” Malarkey grumbled. The group soon fell into a comfortable silence, each thinking about Julian’s mother's soup and what they wouldn’t do for a bowl of it right now.

A loud eruption of a tree nearby caused them to jump.

“Fucking Krauts. Why can’t they just give us a break?” Skip cried as the ground shook and the trees continued to erupt around them.

Screams for a medic filled the woods and Julian watched in horror as Eugene sprinted back and forth between the foxholes of the injured men. “He needs help!” Julian cried, desperately trying to climb out of the foxhole to help Eugene but George’s grip was firm.

“JULIAN! NO! STOP!” Julian fought against George’s grip, freeing himself and charging over the tree bursts. George screamed helplessly, trying to follow him but Malarkey and Skip grabbed ahold of him. “Let him go, George.”

“He’ll be okay George.”

It felt like hours until the barrage finally stopped, the echoing from the eruptions gradually ceased and the ground no longer shook so violently. Four heads popped out of the foxhole, surveying the devastation that lay before them. The splinters of trees that remained looked far less regal than the trees that once stood there.

“I have to go find Julian,” George hurried away, not waiting for his friend's answer. Everything looked the same as George scurried in the direction Julian had gone. Everything looked the same, the same snow, the same trees, same foxholes, same blood… blood everywhere, seeping deep into the once crispy, clear snow. That’s when George saw them, Eugene and Lieutenant Nixon crouched down beside a wounded soldier, Gene worked on his leg, bloody bandages wrapped around the wound, while Nixon spoke to him.

“You’re going to be just fine, Julian. Doc Roe has got you.” Nixon’s voice was low but he turned when he heard the helmet hit the snow. “George, Julian’s going to be fine but I don’t think you should see him right now.”

George didn’t listen, his heart pounding out his chest as he fell beside him.

“Julian?” He whispered, his voice shaking uncontrollably as he tried to reach forward to the man he loved.

“Hey George,” Julian whispered back, his voice weak and shaking, whether from the cold or the shock George wasn’t sure but he’d never seen Julian look so pale.

“He’s gonna be fine, George. We just gotta get him to the air station. Call for a jeep,” Eugene commanded, working quickly to stem the heavy bleeding from Julian’s leg. “George, call for a jeep.” He repeated but George was frozen where he fell. “George, call a goddamn jeep!” Eugene snapped which caused George to jump into action, grabbing his radio and calling for a jeep which arrived in a matter of minutes. George felt helpless as he watched Julian being driven away to the aid station, his knees felt weak as he slumped down next to the blood-smeared ground. Julian’s blood.

“It will be okay, George. He’ll be just fine. He’s in good hands with Eugene and Josie,” Nixon tried to reassure him but George couldn’t hear a thing, only the rumble of the jeep disappearing in the distance could accompany his broken heart.

“Eugene, what the hell happened?” Josie asked, throwing a blanket over Julian’s body as she examined his leg.

“Kraut artillery got him that’s what. This idiot climbed out of his foxhole to help me. Can you believe that?” Eugene huffed, helping to remove the bandages and revealing the large eight-centimetre deep gash that began to pump profusely.

“Shit, we’ve disturbed the clot. RENÉE!” Josie called out, as she began applying pressure to the wound. Renée appeared beside her in an instant, helping to apply pressure while Eugene used his artery forceps to try and clamp the bleeding vessels.

“Julian! Julian, stay with me okay,” Josie called out, running her bloody fingers through his hair. “Just stay with me, Julian.”

“How could you?” Julian whispered, his tear-filled eyes looking up at her as Josie looked down at him in confusion. “How could you tell Lieutenant Nixon about George and I? I trusted you, Josie… I trusted you and you betrayed me.” Tears began to slip down his cheeks as his eyes slid shut, consciousness evading him.

“No, Julian, please. Just stay with me. Please. I’m so sorry,” Josie cried, but Julian had already slipped out of consciousness and her words of regret fell on deaf ears.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Dick asked, his teeth chattering uncontrollably as he looked over at his friend.

“Huh?” Lewis looked up and Dick laughed in amusement.

“You haven’t said a word all evening. The last time you were this quiet was the night before you asked Josie to marry you so I know it must be something serious.” Dick took another slurp from his soup and waited for Lewis to gather his thoughts.

“I’m just worried about Julian. I promised to keep Josie’s friends safe and I feel like I’m failing them. Julian got hit, George is crying in his foxhole with Lipton and Malarkey, Jess is at a field hospital somewhere so I don’t even know if she’s safe and Eugene is running around during artillery barrages so he’s always in harm's way. In fact, I think I’m just here keeping myself safe while they all suffer.” Lewis let out a long sigh as he fell into silence once more, his dark eyes watching Dick as he waited for him to share some of his wisdom.

Dick looked at him thoughtfully before letting out a sigh of his own. “I was afraid this would happen. War is hell, Lew. We all knew that this wouldn’t be easy but maybe I can arrange for Julian to be evacuated to the field hospital Jess is at. That way Josie will know that they are both out of harm's way.”

“You could do that?” Lewis asked hopefully.

“I can certainly try,” Dick assured him, excusing himself to make the phone call. Lewis sighed, leaning his back against the tree. Who knows maybe they would all make it through after all.

“Eugene, what do you mean the aid stations gone? Gone where?” Lewis' voice was husky, having just been awoken by a very nervous Eugene, from his dreamless sleep.

“It’s all gone, Sir. Just gone. The Luftwaffe took it out,” Eugene spoke quickly, his hands seeming to shake as he animated what happened.

“And Josie?” Lewis asked the question he didn’t want to know the answer to. He couldn’t know the answer to it because if what he feared was true then how could he ever go on?

“I don’t know. I’m real sorry, Sir,” Eugene had tears in his own eyes, something Lewis had never seen from the Cajun medic. Despite everything they had been through, everything they had suffered, he’d never seen Eugene cry.

“It’s alright Gene, it's not your fault. I’m just glad we could get Julian out there before this happened. Have you heard from Jess?” Lewis wanted to change the subject, having to fight the urge to break into a sprint and run through enemy lines to Bastogne.

“Not since the last time, Sir but I’m sure she is fine,” Eugene remained the optimist and for a moment Lewis was glad that at least one of them could be.

Eugene trailed off eventually after Lewis sat staring into the abyss for what probably seemed like hours.

“Lew? What’s going on? Lew?” Dick shook his shoulder harshly, causing Lewis to look up, his brown eyes filled with unshed tears because if they fell it would all be real.

“The aid station’s gone,” he muttered, looking back to focus on the tree he’d been glaring at.

“What do you mean gone?” Dick asked slumping down on the log beside his friend.

“I mean it’s done, Dick. The Luftwaffe blew it to hell.”

“And Josie?” Dick's voice was etched with the concern he shared for Josie but also his best friend.

“I don’t know, Dick. I don’t know.”

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @samwinchesterslostshoe

[callsign-bunnie]

What about a Beauty and The Beast Au? My first thought was maybe Ghost and Rudy cause Ghost kind of fits the whole "monster" vibe, but you can pick whatever ship you want! I love your writing, so whatever you pick is good!

I couldn't decide if I wanted Ghost or Alejandro more. So then I decided, "why pick?" Anyway

--

Rodolfo had heard tales of the Beast, before. It was a story told to all young omegas, he was sure. Don’t go wandering through the woods alone or the Beast would take you. Don’t be back from the market too late. 

Rodolfo hadn’t really believed it. 

Then, on his 14th birthday, he’d stormed from his home, angry at hearing that his parents had plans to marry him off in order to lift them from poverty. A son of a lord that he’d rather kill himself than marry. 

He’d ended up getting lost in the woods, and had no hopes of finding his way back. It had been snowing as well, so he was cold, with nothing but a red cloak to keep himself warm.

He remembered finding a log and sitting on the ground. He’d cried, too. A deep, humiliating sob. Before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep and he remembered waking up to the sensation of being carried. 

Fur had pressed against his skin and he’d sworn he’d almost heard growling. He was too feverish and too cold to really fight against it or feel fear and as it was, he’d been laid gently under a window of his family’s farmhouse. 

And then dark yellow eyes had been staring into his own before a big, monstrous figure had retreated, leaving Rodolfo with not even a scent to remember him by. Just the knowledge that whatever that had been had saved his life. 

After that, Rodolfo had believed.

-

Rodolfo’s 18th birthday was the next day and he found himself dreading it more than anything. Because then he would be married. He knew it was to help his family, he knew it was to save their farm. He knew it was… Necessary.

But Mateo was so god fucking awful and Rodolfo would rather throw himself into the river than marry him. 

He was gross! Granted, they were the same age, but he was constantly making abhorrent comments that even his mother would turn up her nose at! And his eyes… those horribly, disgustingly bright blue eyes. Rodolfo hated them. 

Regardless, he got up and got dressed. Then, he brushed his hair and headed out, doing his chores around the small farm they had. They weren’t many, his parents’ way of trying to soften his marriage, he assumed, but Rodolfo didn’t actually mind his chores.

Adrian had had plenty of complaints about it but Rodolfo could care less. Adrian was an alpha, he didn’t have to worry about being married off to the wrong alpha. To the worst alpha. 

“Rodolfo!” 

Rodolfo closed his eyes, groaning. Speaking of. Rodolfo considered just ignoring him. “Hello, Mateo…” Rodolfo mumbled and went over to the fence that he was leaning against.

“How is my beautiful future bride doing?” Mateo grinned at him. “Just two more days and you belong to me! Isn’t that exciting?”

Rodolfo could think of nothing less exciting. “I’m trying to do my chores.” He sighed.

Mateo shrugged. “In three days, your only chores will be being pretty and giving me babies. I’m sure you can neglect them to talk to your fiance.”

“I don’t want to make my siblings have to do more work.” Rodolfo shrugged, giving the excuse. He did mean it, Adrian would likely throw a fit and Liliana worked an apprenticeship, already. She didn’t need to come home and do more chores. 

Mateo frowned before shrugging. “Such a sweet bride.”

Rodolfo’s stomach churned at the repeated reminder of what the next day entailed. It both frightened and nauseated him and had him wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and hide under the blanket until it was over. 

Even still, he knew that wasn’t an option. 

“Thank you for coming to see me.” Rodolfo tried, hoping the flattery may convince Mateo to leave. “But, I… I worry you seeing me before the wedding may jeapordize it. It’s bad luck!”

Mateo frowned again before smiling. “You are right, mi amor. My apologies.” He bowed, slightly, and then said his goodbyes before leaving.

Rodolfo’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed and he shook his head. God, he hated that alpha! Rodolfo shook his head and returned back to his chores, which right now entailed feeding the chickens and gathering their eggs.

Then, he would have to go into town and sell their eggs to the market. He hoped to go by the library and talk to the librarian that was there. So, as soon as he could, he grabbed the egg basket, leaving the few that they would need behind, and headed to the market. 

He took a long route so Mateo wouldn’t know he was there and when he made it to the market, it was already midday. He did panic slightly at how fast the day was going, but he tried not to think about it. In fact, he pushed it from his mind completely while he traded the merchant. He gave the eggs, he got the money, and then he went on his way to the library.

The Librarian, a sweet older woman named Syana, greeted him warmly as Rodolfo walked in. She was an alpha, but she was a widower. “Hello, Rodolfo!”

Rodolfo smiled. “Hello, Sy. How are you, today?”

“Already missing one of my closer friends.” She sighed. “I heard that your wedding takes place, tomorrow.”

“Please do not remind me, Syana. It is harder and harder to resign myself to my fate.” Rodolfo murmured and shook his head. 

Syana smiled, sympathetically. “Do not be so afraid, dear Rodolfo. The boy is obviously deeply infatuated with you.”

“He’s deeply infatuated with a mirror.” Rodolfo muttered, looking over the shelves. He supposed Mateo had a right to be. He was attractive, Rodolfo would not dispute that, but… attractiveness wasn’t enough. “He’s obsessed with me.”

“When I was your age, that was all omegas wanted. An alpha who was obsessed with them.” Syana pat his hip, affectionately. “Well, I have some wedding gifts for you, all the same. Of course, since you seem so deeply unhappy, one may worry you don’t want them?”

“No, I do!” Rodolfo quickly stated. 

Syana laughed, softly, and shook her head. “I thought so. Stay here.” 

Rodolfo nodded and then waited as she went up some stairs and then returned back down with a book. “To start your own library.” Syana held out the box. 

Rodolfo looked at it, seeing it was filled with books, and he just melted. “Thank you… Thank you so much!” He took the box and looked through it, before he was hugging the box. He had no doubt that his marriage would be much easier to bear with these.

Syana pat him. “Anyway, you should go home now. Before your father comes looking for you.”

Rodolfo nodded. “Thank you, Sy. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Rodolfo.”

Rodolfo took his books and then started home, feeling just slightly better about the next day.

-

Rodolfo bit the inside of his cheek so hard it almost bled as he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want this at all. He was wearing a gaudy sort of green, but it was Mateo’s favorite color and Mateo’s father had paid for it.

Rodolfo hated it. He would much rather be wearing literally any other color. No, he’d rather not be wearing this at all! He tried not to start crying, glad his veil would be hiding it if he did. When the veil would be lifted, he could claim they were tears of joy.

His mother was going around him, clucking like a hen about all of the things that Rodolfo would be able to enjoy once he was a Lady. He’d naught want for anything, apparently. Except, to not be married. Rodolfo would always want that. 

“I understand…” Rodolfo nodded. “Marrying Mateo is good for our family, it is good for me.” He was lying. He’d already waged his war against this agreement when he was younger and he’d sorely lost. There was no point in rekindling it. 

“Exactly.” His mother finally straightened and then she touched his face. “You are so beautiful.”

Rodolfo wished he wasn’t. He wished he was plain or even ugly and then he would not be getting married. But, he thanked his mother all the same and then he turned back to the mirror, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking.

Rodolfo looked up when he heard the door open, looking in the mirror and seeing Mateo step in. His mother frowned. “Mateo, it’s not-”

“Just a few minutes. Please.” Mateo smiled at Rodolfo’s mother.

Rodolfo pleaded with his eyes at his mother, though he knew she couldn’t see him. Please don’t leave him here with Mateo. Please… But, she curtsied and then pat Rodolfo before leaving. Rodolfo grasped his own hands tighter, turning back to himself in the mirror.

Mateo watched his mother leave and then smiled at Rodolfo. “You’re beautiful.”

“It’s not good to see me before the wedding. It’s bad luck.” Rodolfo reminded, hoping that would convince him.

“You have a veil on, it’s fine.” Mateo shook his head. “I heard you went by the library.”

Rodolfo frowned. “Yes… Syana had a wedding gift for me… Or, well us. Some books to start a library.”

“I see. Do you like reading?” Mateo leaned against the dresser, where the box of books sat. 

Rodolfo nodded. “I do.”

Mateo didn’t seem very pleased. Rodolfo couldn’t imagine why. “Syana is an alpha.”

“She’s a widower.” Rodolfo nodded. “Her mate died when I was little.”

“The people will talk.”

“About?” Rodolfo furrowed his brows, confused what Mateo could possibly be talking about. Syana had known Rodolfo since Rodolfo was a child. No one was talking about them. 

Mateo only stared at him. “I care about you, Rodolfo. I want you as my wife. But… my father has taught me to never let myself be humiliated and… well, quite frankly, it feels like you’re trying to.” His voice had darkened. 

“No, no,” Rodolfo quickly assured. “I’m not- I’m not trying to humiliate you! I just wanted to see her before I was married, she’s practically helped raise me-” He was cut off by an impact as he was struck across his face.

He stumbled off the short pedestal he was standing on, almost falling off, and he held his cheek, eyes wide. “I-”

“Don’t speak.” Mateo was glaring at him.

Rodolfo went silent, immediately, staring at Mateo in shock. His cheek stung and the impact had caused tears to spring to his eyes. 

Mateo sighed and then he softened. “You’re naive. It’s alright. Don’t embarrass me, again. I mean it.”

Rodolfo didn’t speak at all. He just stared at Mateo. When Mateo finally left, Rodolfo stared at the door he’d exited through. Already, he’d felt the embers in his soul start to glow again. But, no, he wasn’t going to fight the war. Because it was already over. 

Rodolfo ripped the veil from his head and removed his bodice and his skirt, leaving himself in just his underdress, before he went to the window. He forced it open, not caring that it squeaked, and just slid through.

He didn’t even think before he took off running to the woods. 

Don’t go through the woods alone, or it’d take you. 

Don’t be out too late.

Rodolfo was counting on it. He wanted whatever it was to take him far away from here and away from Alphas who slapped him and didn’t let him explain things and who made far too many comments than he liked. 

Far far away. 

Rodolfo didn’t know if anyone was coming after him, he didn’t care. He just kept running. Trees whipped past beside him, branches smacked at his face.

At some point, it started to snow, but he still just kept running. He could feel the harsh sting of scrapes against his skin, and he still kept running. Even when his sides started to burn and his lungs protested, he kept running.

And, in fact, he only stopped when his foot caught on the root of a tree and sent him across the ground, hitting it rather hard.

The air was knocked out of him and he held his side, which had smacked against a rock, whimpering with pain. Finally, he decided he’d ran enough, sitting up and holding himself. It was so cold… Snow had started to coat the ground and he found himself shivering, despite how damp his skin was with sweat. 

He didn’t regret leaving. Perhaps he’d rather die than be stuck the rest of his life with Mateo… He’d struck him once, Rodolfo had no doubts he would strike him again. 

Rodolfo pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged himself tighter. It was so cold… He flinched when he heard wolves howling in the distance. It filled him with a small sense of fear. 

Finally, his situation started to sink in. He’d ran into the woods with no plan, no food… No clothes… More fear filled him. He was so frightened. 

Another howl sounded but this one was… different. It was louder… it was deeper… And it only served to frighten Rodolfo more as he realized it was a lot closer. Rodolfo used a nearby tree to drag himself to his feet, looking around. In a small distance, between two trees, he saw a large monstrous figure approach.

Rodolfo’s eyes widened and he quickly backed up, but he gasped as he hit a wall of cloth and warmth, looking up and right into yellow eyes. 

Terror. Rodolfo jerked away and looked around, about to take off running, but his arm was gently grabbed and he was held firmly. “You need to return back to the village.” A soft, gentle voice came from the beast which stood before him.

Rodolfo tried to jerk his arm away, turning to the right slightly and seeing another beast was a small distance from him. “I-” Even with all of his fear, he didn’t want to go back. “Please don’t take me back. Please… You can kill me or eat me or anything, just please don’t send me back to that place…”

The two beasts shared a look. “Please…” Rodolfo pleaded. “Don’t take me back.”

The one that held his arm sighed and shook his head. 

Then, Rodolfo was being picked up, cradled in the beast’s arms, carefully.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Zombies in the Sun [Chapter One] Treacherous Sunset [Vaas Montenegro]

A/n: I’m back again with another Vaas story. Woot! I was going to wait to post the first chapter to this, but I’m far too excited to do so. This one is going to be a zombie soulmate AU because I’ve been stuck on this idea for a while. Please pay attention to the warnings and enjoy. Also, I used the same MC from ‘Where the Tainted Kiss’. I’m attached to her.

Summary: Olivia McKenna is on vacation with her close friend, Liza Snow and a group of strangers. As a treat, she agrees to go skydiving over the Rook Islands, but when they land Liv, and her new friends are cast into a nightmare filled with pirates and the walking dead. How will they survive? And what will Liv do when she catches the attention of the pirate lord Vaas Montenegro after involuntarily saving his life?

Warning(s): Zombies (humans and animals), soulmates, tattoos, relationship issues, alternate universe, blood and gore, death. 

No Minors Allowed!!

The beat of the music reverberated in her ears as Die Antwoord played across the speakers in a nightclub somewhere in Thailand – the name she could not remember or pronounce. Liv sat at the bar and waited for her bitch drink, as Riley called it; a Sex on the Beach; one of her favorites. Her attention remained on the strange compass tattoo on her inner wrist illuminated by hues of dark lilac and magenta from the ambient light dancing across the floor. It was doing something that she had never seen before. It lost its way; the needle spun wildly.

Seeing it move was not something uncommon. A lot of people had compass tattoos that changed directions. It was a mark of sorts; a brand that signified out there somewhere was someone whose compass was leading back. The coined term was 'soulmate', but some theorists called it the Era of Fate, a rare phenomenon that had been around as early as the 15th century. There was no record of how it started, only that around a person's 16th birthday a compass would appear and point the way to the person who they were ideally suited for.

Liv never really sought out her soulmate or had an interest in them; her career meant more to her than some strange person she may or may not even like. Frankly, she didn't know much about it other than what she heard or read about online. It all sounded ridiculous to her. And thus, she ignored her compass for going on 10 years. Until tonight.

Rubbing her finger over the tattoo in hopes to smug it away, she groaned as the needle continued to spin. What did this mean? Was hers broken?

What does it matter? You never cared before.

Yet the more she watched it, the more drawn to it she was. She never realized how hypnotizing the tattoo was, turning and turning like a pinwheel; it strangely made her crave to be home, yet the warmness of her city apartment didn't appeal to her at the moment.

Perhaps she should look up the meaning. Curiosity got the better of her. Liv took out her phone and unlocked it, but a hand on her shoulder made her avert her attention and lurch in fear. She glanced over her arm and sighed as she recognized the brown-haired woman who had grabbed her.

"You scared me," she stated.

Liza leaned in, pointing at her ear to show that she could not hear her over the sound of the music.

"I said you scared me," Liv repeated.

"Sorry about that," she stated with a laugh. Her alcohol-scented breath fanned out across the woman's cheek. "I honestly tried to call your name, but it looks like you're nose-deep in your phone. I hope it's not business."

Liv snorted.

"I was just looking at something, but it's not too important."

She was lying of course. Putting away her phone she watched Liza turn her green eyes to the dance floor in annoyance. Liv raised a curious brow. Something was wrong with her; she worked with the aspiring actress long enough to know what was an act and what wasn't.

"Are you OK?" She asked as she leaned in.

Liza took an uneasy breath.

"Trouble in paradise."

"Because of the unnecessary fight Jason was in earlier?" Liv asked. Though to be honest, she assumed there were other reasons besides this, but was not her place to ask.

The brown-haired woman snorted in annoyance.

He was the reason the group of nine moved to the nightclub from the previous bar, or rather fled, though it wasn't just him. Keith, an investment banker, and Jason's youngest brother, Riley were just as responsible. For some reason they instigated a fight with a group of Thai patrons; most likely because they were drunk – typical frat boy behavior.

It was understandable to Liv as to why Liza was pissed solely at Jason however; the two were soulmates; had met in college before she and the actress met.

"It's more than that. He's... immature. All he does is party and he has no real goal in mind. Not to–– No. I shouldn't unload this on you, or Daisy. I'm sorry," Liza mentioned.

Liv frowned and reached up to touch her arm in reassurance.

"I don't mind. We're friends, no?"

"Why couldn't we be soulmates?" Liza asked with a smile. "We're perfect for one another. I complain and you listen. Not to mention we have goals that we're both working toward."

Liv snorted.

"I'm on the market."

"I couldn't leave Jason even if I wanted to. We're tethered... and you wouldn't believe how amazing the sex is," Liza mentioned, grinning at the last part.

So Liv heard. She leaned her elbow against the bar and stared at her friend for a moment. The woman was doomed.

Those who find their soulmates are said to be forever tethered to them by some unseen emotional bond. They feel what the other does and they can't escape if the relationship goes sour; it was a nightmare wrapped in candy-colored paper. A tattoo, much like the compass appears on their person when they first meet, bonding them forever.

"I can have great sex without being tethered to someone," Liv mentioned.

A tap on her arm brought her attention to the bar where the bartender was standing with her drink. She smiled at her and took the glass. The sweet and sour taste of orange juice and vodka assaulted her tastebuds bringing goosebumps to her arms. Perfect.

"Not to be a nag, but I heard Vincent has eyes for you," Liza brought up, nudging the dark-haired woman's arm. Her drink sloshed out onto her hand and Liza grimaced in response.

Liv snorted and licked the mixture from her salty skin.

"I've noticed."

He was a nice guy; a year younger than her, and according to Jason, he was studying engineering at Cal Tech. But Liv wasn't looking for a relationship at the moment; her last one ended on bad terms and she wanted to enjoy her vacation away from the hassle of the material world for a few days. Besides, she'd feel like a shit friend if she took one of Jason's friends to her room when this week was about Riley and his accomplishments.

"I see what you're doing," Liza mentioned.

Liv raised a brow.

"What am I doing? Pray tell."

"You're holding out in hopes to find your soulmate. But Liv, you're never gonna find them if you don't attempt to look for them," she argued.

Liv turned up her eyes. She knew, but she wasn't holding back or looking for her soulmate. Honestly, she could go her entire life never meeting them and be happy. Her career was important to her.

"You got me all figured out, huh?"

"If I'm wrong, then there is no reason you can't make nice with Vincent," Liza stated.

She was a persistent one.

Eyeing the beanie-wearing mechanic in the crowd, Liv watched him in amusement as he attempted to dance with Daisy Lee, the pretty blonde that Jason's older brother Grant was dating – was Grant the jealous type?

"I'll leave it at a maybe," she told her friend.

Liza grinned, pleased to hear this.

At least she wasn't going to nag her more about it, or so Liv had hoped. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Jason standing at the side of the dancefloor talking to a man with brown hair; a man she had never seen before.

"Who is that with Jason?"

Liza turned her attention and hummed.

"That's Doug the DJ. Jason heard there was a great place around here to skydive and he wanted to surprise Riley."

Skydive? Liv shivered at the idea.

Sipping at her drink, she watched the two converse until Jason was seemingly through. He shook his head, then turned his eyes towards the bar at Liza and walked toward her with a hopeful smile. Leaning forward, he gave her a brief kiss on the cheek, but Liza didn't seem too forgiving. Liv didn't blame her.

Don't take any shit.

"Doug says there is an island nearby where we can do anything; party with the natives, explore the temples; you name it! He can take us there tomorrow and we can celebrate without anyone bothering us."

"That fight was on you, Jason! When are you gonna grow up?" Liza asked. Her tone was laced with annoyance.

Liv averted her eyes to the dance floor, ignoring them, but the silver and blue lights could only keep her attention so much considering the fact both were shouting over Lady Gaga. She could hear their entire conversation.

"I wasn't–– Look, I'm sorry, but this can be good for us! We can take a four-wheeler out and picnic away from the others!" Jason shouted.

"We need to talk about us! We can't keep ignoring it!" Liza stated.

An air of awkwardness enveloped the 3rd wheel.

Being single might be lonely but sometimes it's better.

"We will! I promise!" Jason retorted.

Liza agreed with a sigh and accepted another kiss from him, watching him walk away to rejoin the others. Cries of excitement rang out as Jason told them the news.

"I guess we're going skydiving tomorrow!"

"I heard! Is it too late to say that I'm not a fan of heights?" Liv asked, turning her eyes to the woman; the latter grinned in response and shook her head.

It was as she feared; it was far too late.

The whoosh of the wind tousled her short black hair and snapped in her ears like a whip as she stared at the island below. It was beautiful at this height. Liv craved to snap a picture but her Olympus was in her backpack and honestly, she was too scared to move. What the fuck was she doing? Did she want to die today?

"It's our turn," Vincent pointed out. His warm breath fanned out across her cold cheek as he spoke. "Are you ready?"

Liv shook her head in disagreement, but the mechanic laughed and pressed his body against hers, forcing them both from the side of the plane as it soared over Rook Island. Why did she have to be strapped to him for this? No, she had never gone skydiving before but if she was going to be forced to do it, she wanted to go at her own pace. This was too much. Her heart pounded in her chest as they fell quickly from the cloud-covered sky down to the ground below.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! This was so stupid. Fuck Jason. I'll haunt his skinny ass if I die.

The others were having the time of their lives with no care how dangerous this was, even Vincent was laughing and whooping in her ear. As they passed the brown-haired douche who was filming the entire experience, Liv flipped him the bird, then clutched onto the straps of her harness; her one-piece suit flapped in the wind, the only noise besides her constant thoughts that she heard.

Further down, she heard the sound of the parachute release. The sudden jerk sent her heart to her stomach as the momentum lessened and they began to float toward the ground. Liv was still uneasy; she wouldn't feel safe until they stood with their feet in the sand.

"See, not so bad," Vincent stated in her ear.

"Every damn one of you is insane," she protested.

This earned her a laugh.

Liv was relieved when her shoes touched the sand. The parachute descended behind them, but she paid it no mind as she struggled to unclasp the safety harnesses. She wanted to be away from the damn thing as soon as possible.

"I got you," Vincent stated, releasing her.

"Never again," Liv mentioned.

She pressed her unruly hair down into place and sat down on the white sand. It was a miracle none of them had died. People were not meant to freefall from the fucking sky.

One by one the others landed. Riley immediately undid his harness and rushed further down the beach, disappearing around a corner where the dense jungle met the sand. Liza approached Liv and leaned down beside her, grinning.

"Any regrets?"

"Too many," Liv stated. "But the biggest was not having my camera out. That sight was picture worthy."

Liza snorted in response. She stood up and unclasped her harnesses, then took off her suit. A tattoo of a turtle dove peeked out from beneath the band of her jeans on her hip as she did.

"Did you at least have fun though?" She asked.

"Not at all. But the island is beautiful, so I'm pleased to be here," Liv retorted in honesty. "Thank you for inviting me, Liza."

The said woman grinned and helped her to stand.

"We're friends, no? And besides, we both needed a vacation."

That was true. Liv was worn out from her previous freelance job. She was hired by a small town company to help with a local commercial. It wasn't much, but it gave her enough to pay rent and for her trip. She was looking into setting up a contract for her next gig when she got back, something she was eager to do.

Removing the harness from her body, she unzipped her suit and took it off. She wore a red cold shoulder top and jeans with a white one-piece swimsuit beneath, in case she decided to get in the water. A beach table and chairs caught her attention and she walked over to it, setting her gear into one of the chairs. Did Doug set this up? Perhaps he had someone do this for them. Liv didn't question it.

"Do you smell that?" Oliver asked as he sat his backpack down. His eyes were bloodshot and red from the joint he smoked before the plane ride.

She raised a brow and smelled the air. It had a peculiar scent, almost like someone was grilling meat. Her stomach clenched up in hunger.

"There might be other tourists here. I'm sure we aren't the only ones Doug the DJ told about this place."

Oliver agreed and took a bottle with clear liquid from the back.

"Who wants a shot?!"

Liv grimaced. Her stomach was still in knots. She turned her attention to her backpack and dug out her camera, humming in contentment as she tinkered with it.

"Come on Liv. Take a shot with us," Keith ordered. "It'll put hair on your balls."

"Gross man," Vincent uttered.

Liv snorted and placed the camera strap around her neck. She'd most likely regret it later, but she might as well. Walking over to the group, she took a tiki shot glass from Oliver. It was rather cute.

"Raise your glasses," Grant – a stout army-trained stud – ordered.

The group did so.

"Uh, to my brother Riley for getting his pilot's license! Where the hell is that motherfucker?" Grant asked.

That was a good question. Today was meant to be about him. The last Liv saw of him, he was running down the beach in child-like excitement. Oh well. She tossed back her shot and nearly choked on the foul-tasting alcohol.

"God, I haven't done sambuca since I was twenty years old," Grant mentioned with a grunt.

No wonder. It was intense. The taste of licorice lingered on her tongue even after Liv spat the taste from her mouth. She turned down another shot and turned on her camera, taking pictures of the group as they carried on in laughter, drinking, and shouting.

"I want copies after we get home," Liza mentioned to her.

"And me. Please," Daisy Lee piped in.

Liv agreed with a nod and continued to snap some pictures. She sauntered away from the group for a few minutes to take some of the clear water and the jungle when she heard a voice shout out. From around the arch, Riley came, rushing toward the table.

"There he is! Take a––"

"We need to get the fuck out of here!" Riley shouted, interrupting Oliver.

Liv raised a brow in question. He seemed frightened by something.

"We just got here, man. What's up with you?" Vincent asked in concern.

Riley took a deep and uneasy breath.

"I can't fucking explain it. There are... people tied to fucking poles down the beach. Someone burned them alive.

Was he drunk?

"Dude that's not funny," Keith mentioned.

"I'm not trying to be funny," Riley argued. He groaned in annoyance and waved his hand. "Look for yourself."

Jason snorted and sat down his shot glass, following his younger brother; Grant went too. And as much as she didn't want to, Liv walked around the bend with them. She was surprised that Liza decided to come, grasping her arm as the small party walked down the beach. The scent from earlier permeated the air, much stronger than before; it almost smelled putrid.

Just around the corner, Liv saw what Riley was trying to warn them about. Her eyes widened in horror. Three long poles stuck out of the sand and bound to them each was a person. Their bodies had been badly burned; the probable cause of their death, though at least one of them had a knife wedged in their chest. She couldn't even tell what they used to look like, only that they were human. Her stomach churned and her mouth filled with saliva as she nearly vomited. What the fuck was going on?

"Jason," Liza called in fear.

The said man turned to her with wide eyes.

"Go back to the others. You two don't need to see this."

"You need to call that guy and have him come pick us the fuck up!" Riley shouted.

He was right. Liv wanted to be off this island as soon as possible.

"He said he'd be back for us later, that we needed to stay on the beach," Jason mentioned. "I don't have a way to contact him."

"We can't just ignore this," Liza pointed out motioning toward the poles.

Riley snorted in disbelief.

"And do what exactly? We are on a fucking island!"

"Calm down," Grant ordered. He was more together than the others. "She's right though. We need to let someone know what happened here, but we also need to return to the others and wait until Doug picks us up. We can't do much until then."

Liv was already hating this idea. She knew he was right, but fuck.

"T-take some pictures of this," Riley ordered, turning his attention to her.

For fuck's sake.

Raising her camera, Liv took a quick shot of the three bodies, not caring whether the image was good or not. She just wanted to hurry and leave the area. As she raised the camera a final time she heard a noise from the jungle; it sounded like rushed footsteps.

"Do you guys––"

Before she could finish the question, a snarling man ran from the foliage and slammed into her, knocking her onto the ground. Liv lost her breath for a moment as his weight pressed against her chest. He smelled putrid like rotten meat and feces.

What the--

The question was lost to her as she stared into his cloudy lifeless eyes. Her own widened in horror as she noticed that his mouth from the cheekbones down was ripped into bloody uneven pieces, enough so that his lips were completely gone exposing his raw gums and stained teeth. A mix of blood and saliva leaked from his open mouth onto her cheek as he hovered over her. Liv was chilled to the bone.

Then with a scream, one that sounded shrill and inhuman, he bared his teeth and lunged at her. Grant came between them before he sank his teeth into her, wrapping his arm around the feral man's neck, but in the process, he was bitten. He shouted in pain and yanked him to his feet.

"Jason, h-help him," Liza ordered.

The said man rushed to his brother's aid and grabbed the man, pulling him away. However, a large bloody chunk of Grant's arm was removed in the process. Jason recoiled in disgust and watched him chew on the torn flesh. Seizing the moment, Grant yanked the knife from the pole and shoved the blade into the man's head with a wet 'slit'. He fell motionless in the sand.

"What the fuck is that!?" Riley asked in a panic.

Liza rushed to Liv and leaned down beside her.

"Are you OK?"

"I... I don't know. He tried to bite me," Liv retorted in shock.

What sort of fucked up Romero shit was going on? Her eyes widened in horror as she remembered that Grant had been bitten. The said man was clutching his bleeding arm in pain.

"We need to get back to the others," he mentioned.

"Are you gonna be OK?" Jason asked.

His brother shook his head in agreement, but he didn't look too sure. Turning, he led the group back down the beach and around the bend. Daisy Lee noticed them first and covered her mouth in shock, rushing to Grant's side.

"What the fuck happened? Keith asked.

Liv shook her head and sat down at the table, wrapping her arms around herself. She just wanted to go home. This entire day was one big nightmare.

"Guys, come on. What is––"

The sound of a siren interrupted Oliver, echoing around the beach. It sounded close, but Liv wasn't certain. Then from the corner of her eye, she noticed something emerge from the jungle down the beach from them. It was an animal; a large dog. But something was not right about the canine. Its dark fur was missing in patches like it was sick and its face was gruesomely decomposed; bloody muscle and bone were showing. Liv stood up from the chair and almost backed into Keith.

This can't be happening. I'm dreaming; I have to be.

But the fear was real. The adrenalin coursing through her body and the voice in her head telling her to get the hell out of dodge; it was all real too.

"W-we need to run," she mentioned lowly.

Keith raised a brow and turned his blue eyes toward the dog.

"What the fuck is wrong with it?"

With a guttural bark, it suddenly sprinted at them, quickly closing the distance.

"Fuck! Run!" Someone shouted, probably Riley; Liv didn't stand around to find out.

She clutched her bag in her hands and dashed into the jungle, aware that the others were close behind. She could hear their labored breaths and the guttural growl of the dog as it chased after them. Tears poured down her face as she tried to navigate the bush, but she had no idea where she was going. Her only beacon of hope was the siren.

But why does it sound like it's moving away from us?

Running from the tree line out on a dirt road, she saw two large vehicles driving toward her. Raising her arms, Liv shouted over the siren in hopes to catch the driver's attention, but to her horror, both drove past her.

"No, no, no. PLEASE STOP!"

She knew she'd never catch them, but Liv chased after them regardless, pleading with them to come back. She knew that at any second the dog was going to run her down and maul her to pieces; her friends were sadly the last thing on her mind. She just wanted to survive. On the last vehicle, she noticed a turret mounted on the top. Someone peeked out toward her, and to her relief, the vehicle came to a stop; the other soon followed suit.

"Get down!" A man wearing a red bandana shouted.

Liv raised a brow. Why did––

Suddenly the man started shooting the turret toward her. Liv screamed in protest but someone knocked her to the ground and covered her. She felt her hands burn as the road tore into her; the sound of screams echoed in her ears, so loud she almost didn't hear the gunfire cease. The person on top of her got up and Liv took a peek, seeing Vincent next to her. Did he save her? No. The man with the bandana wasn't shooting at them, or else she and Vincent would have been dead. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed that the others were alive too. The rabid dog however was in pieces, lying mere inches away from Oliver. Bullet holes riddled its diseased carcass.

They saved us.

"Fuck, that was close," Vincent mentioned.

Liv wasn't sure if he meant the dog or the turret. She sat up and groaned as her raw hands burned.

"Liv," Vincent called gaining her attention. He motioned towards the vehicles where a stout dark-skinned man approached them.

"Americanos (Americans)?" He asked.

Liv shook her head in agreement.

The man grinned.

"You are afortunado (fortunate) we came by. Or else you'd be almuerzo (lunch)."

What was he trying to say?

"Thank you for stopping," Liv mentioned.

"Don't think me yet," the man retorted.

He turned his eyes toward the others and counted them, then yanked a walkie from his belt.

"Jefe (boss), we found them. Nine little americanos (Americans)."

The line cracked for a moment, then a voice answered.

"Well? You waiting for an invitation motherfucker? Bring them here."

An air of uncertainly consumed Liv. Did he admit that he was looking for them? Perhaps they knew Doug. So many factors didn't add up. She glanced over at Vincent for answers, but he was seeing to Oliver who had scraped his leg somehow.

"Four of you come with me," the man ordered. "And the rest of you get in the other vehicle."

"Where are you taking us?" Jason asked.

Liv was curious too, but she was more concerned about the monsters that attacked them. She refused to call them anything else; there was no telling what they were.

"¡Apurarse (hurry)! Or do you want to wind up someone's lunch?" The man asked, motioning them on.

There were more of them?

Liv had so many questions, but she put her trust in the unnamed man and followed him to the vehicle. How bad could a man who just saved their life be?

If only she knew.

[montammil]

Cold, Cold Eyes

CW: Parental whumper, getting kicked out, parental abuse, kidnapping, drugging via syringe, infantilization, restraints

A sigh escapes Marshall's throat as he sits on the bench, head in hands. It's midnight and freezing cold. He'd take the cold over the heat any day, but that doesn't mean he likes either of them.

It's been a few days since he's been kicked out of his parents house. He wishes he could meet up to their expectations, but he just can't. He's not smart as his siblings, and his GED has been going nowhere. He assumes they assumed he just gave up on it.

He shivers and curls up in a ball. It's not snowing, but he knows it should be soon. His entire body feels numb.

Suddenly, there's a jacket being draped over him.

Marshall looks up to see a blond man with blue eyes, about in his forties. His hair is neatly styled, and he's wearing a worried expression.

"What on earth are you doing out here, kiddo? Where are your parents?"

"Um, I got kicked out." Marshall chuckles. "I know I may look like an eight-year-old, but I'm twenty. So no laws are being broken here, don't worry."

"I couldn't care less about the law, you're freezing," the man sighs. "How long have you been out here?"

The boy hesitates. "Uh... three days, I think?"

Gasping like he'd grown a second head, he repeats, "Three days?! In this weather?" His gloved hand pulls Marshall upwards. "Why don't you stay with me for a bit? Or at least warm up, I can fix you something. My house is only a few minutes from here."

"Oh, as nice as that sounds, sir, I probably shouldn't..." Marshall is pretty sure this is how a majority of murders happen, and though the guy seems trustworthy, he's not that desperate.

"I get that you're just being cautious, but you're gonna catch hypothermia at this rate. It's going to snow soon, I heard."

"I can just take shelter somewhere else."

After Marshall pulls his arm away from the man's, the man sighs again. "Can I at least buy you something to eat? You look like you could use it."

"Are... are you sure?" Marshall still is a little hesitant, but that does sound nice. He hasn't ate ever since he got kicked out, unless a single granola bar counts.

"Positive," the man smiles. "I insist."

Marshall nods. "Okay... if you're totally sure." He does seem like a wealthy man with the shiny golden watch and black dress shirt and slacks he's donning. Not to mention the heavy brown trench coat the man draped around his shoulders. It's admittedly comfortable.

"So, what's your name, kiddo?" the man asks as they walk.

"Marshall," he answers. "What's your name?"

He smiles at him. "Lawrence. It's nice to meet you, Marshall."

"Um, you too."

After a couple of minutes of walking, Marshall realizes he doesn't really know where they're going until he thinks more logically. What restaurant would be open at midnight, unless it's some cheap fast food?

He stops and gulps. "Uh, sir, I'm not really hungry, actually. I think I'm just gonna go back to where I was."

"What? Your stomach is literally growling, you are clearly starved." His eyes flash of something that isn't worry.

"No, I actually ate this morning." He takes off the trench coat and hands it to him, but when Lawrence doesn't take it, he awkwardly continues to hold it in front of him. "So... maybe we'll see each other again?" He just wants to be left alone, he's an idiot for taking up his offer in the first place. This guy seems shady.

Lawrence finally takes the coat. "It's just a few steps away from here. Are you sure you don't want one quick bite?"

He nods. "I- I'm sure, but thanks."

"Of course, Marshall." After looking around a few times, he grabs something from his pocket and before Marshall can react, Lawrence is jabbing the needle of a syringe in his neck and quickly pressing down on the plunger.

Marshall coughs a few times as he takes a few stumbling steps, but Lawrence grabs him and holds him as he stands.

"Let's get you home, Marshall. I'm gonna make you so happy, just you wait."

...

Marshall wakes up to feel shackles around him. He looks down to see the surprisingly polished metal wrapped around his wrists and ankles, chains leading to a wall of what looks like a... childish room.

It's an anxiety-inducing childish kind, too. The walls are a lavender purple, the floor is carpet and a slightly darker shade of purple. His bed is small, not too small, but smaller than what a bed should be for someone his age.

There's toys in the corner of the room, as well. Stuffed animals, none of which are consistent. Most of them are plain-looking, but there are some unflatteringly bright colored ones, too.

The door opens, and Marshall's eyes widen to see the man he somehow forgot about, even if just for a couple seconds: Lawrence; and he's wearing a lazy grin, as if everything's perfectly fine and normal.

"Please don't hurt me!" Marshall begs, because his first thought is that this man is a sadist, and this whole room is to just taunt him.

"Oh, bud, no!" Lawrence crouches down to meet his eyes. "I'd never hurt you. I mean, as long as you behave, I would never. So far, you've done nothing worthy of punishment."

Slowly, Marshall looks at him. "Why are you doing this to me?" he squeaks. He never pictured himself becoming this vulnerable, but god is he so scared.

"Doing what? You mean this?" He gestures around the room. "Because you need it, silly. I've been looking around for someone like you, someone who needs love and affection the same way I do."

"What are you talking about?" Marshall stops struggling. He's too horrified to move.

Lawrence's amused expression turns somber. "My parents died, my fiancee died, I was sure every one I loved died, but then I thought... maybe I wasn't cut out for either of those kinds of love. Maybe I'd have more luck with a kid of my own, someone I could make it my job to protect and eventually carry on my legacy. So here you are!"

"First of all, I'm twenty, I already told you that; and secondly, did you never think maybe kidnapping someone off the streets was a little, y'know, unethical?" Marshall's fearful demeanor diminishes from the man's attitude.

"Kidnapping, tsk tsk," Lawrence scoffs. "I chose you because I love you, Marshall. You need my protection."

Something in Marshall snaps. "No, I don't! You don't even know me!" He struggles again. "Let me go! I don't want to be here!"

He seems disappointed with his reaction, rather than angry. "Kiddo, you can't escape those chains, not by brute force, at least. You can, however, escape them if you promise me you'll behave."

"I promise, just let me go, please."

He coos. "Oh, you didn't think I meant that now, did you? That's so cute. No, I can't let you go yet, I know that promise means nothing. With time, though, when I can trust you, you can go anywhere you want- in the house, of course."

Marshall glares. "Can you at least tell me where I am?"

Lawrence ruffles his hair and stands. "Our new home, obviously. Now, what do you want to eat?"

No way is he accepting food from this creep. "I'm not hungry."

"Lying a second time, are we?" Lawrence shakes his head. "You're practically skin and bones, bud. If you won't eat, maybe I'll just get a feeding tube. Does that sound any more better to you?"

Marshall huffs. "Fine. I don't care what I eat." He needs to grow a backbone, but with those threatening sapphire eyes, he feels like maybe it isn't a good idea to test his patience.

The man claps his hands together. "Great! Since it's almost lunch time, how about we just stick to some sandwiches for now?"

Marshall doesn't reply.

He raises a brow, but doesn't say anything about it. "Then sandwiches it is." He leaves the room, and closes the door behind him.

Since there was no sound of it being locked, Marshall foolishly keeps tugging on the chains, but they only make his wrists hurt. The cuffs around them are padded, but that doesn't stop it from hurting any less.

Marshall wonders if his parents are looking for him, if they even care. Probably, but he doesn't feel very comforted by that, knowing they'll probably give up if he's here long enough. He'd prefer them over this weirdo any day, but he doesn't want either of them.

He'd give anything to just be back on the cold streets again, and that's saying something. He hates it there.

Even if he tries to fight it, only out of fear of Lawrence walking in and humiliating him, he can't stop the tears that cascade down his cheeks and onto his lap.

He sobs for a while, his mind racing with thoughts. Would he ever get out? Would he be in this hellhole forever?

When his tears finally subside, Lawrence comes back into the room, holding a tray of sandwiches, clicking his tongue when he sees the tear tracks on his pale skin.

After setting down the tray, he sits next to him. "Don't cry, kiddo, it's okay. I told you I wouldn't hurt you, right? I know I seem really scary right now, but I'm not, I promise."

Marshall ignores him and chooses to glance at the tray of sandwiches, frowning. The crusts are cut, as if he's some kind of young kid. Okay, sure, he does prefer the crust cut, but knowing how condescending Lawrence has been, he knows he just assumed.

He hopes, at least. He'd hate to know this guy has been stalking him.

"Here, let me just..." Lawrence grabs the first sandwich, there's three of them. "Since I know you're hungry, you can have as many as you'd like, bud. Open up."

"You're hand-feeding me?" Marshall asks with a cringe.

"Well, I know you're capable of picking things up, but I'd like to set a bond, to let you know you can trust me, so we're starting off slow. Oh, by the way, do you have any allergies?"

Marshall suppresses the urge to punch him. "No."

He smiles. "Good! So eat up."

"Are you sure I can't feed myself? I'd very much prefer-"

"Eat. Now."

Marshall shudders at his suddenly serious tone and does as told. He hates the way Lawrence grins again, almost innocently. He doesn't know how any person in their right mind could enjoy either end of this, but especially his end. There has to be more to it than what he explained, right?

No one should just kidnap someone just for the sake of having a kid. He doesn’t know what’s going through his head, but maybe that’s a good thing.

"Taste good?" Lawrence asks after his third bite.

Swallowing, Marshall answers, "It’s fine." It isn't a lie. It's nothing horrible, but nothing special. Then again, it's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It'd probably take a lot to go wrong with that.

"I'm glad to hear that. You're being so well-behaved!"

"Th-thanks..." Marshall doesn't like his praise, but maybe if he pretends to, he can be let out of these cuffs and find an escape, let alone feed himself.

He hopes, prays even, that Lawrence will let him feed himself then. This feels so patronizing.

After he finishes the third sandwich, refusing when Lawrence offers another, he watches the blond grab a bottle of water and hold it up to his lips.

Really? I can't give myself water, either?

Lawrence's eyes narrow. "C'mon. I know you must be thirsty."

Marshall drinks a few sips, then pulls away. "I'm done."

"Alright, marshmallow, I'm gonna go get some work stuff done, you just sit there and be quiet, m'kay? I'll be back in an hour or so." He kisses his forehead so quickly, Marshall doesn't register it until he pulls away. "If you behave for the next three days, I'll let you out of those restraints. How does that sound?"

"Three days?" Marshall repeats incredulously, ignoring the annoyingly endearing nickname.

"Mhm!" Lawrence sounds so enthusiastic, it's like nails on a chalkboard. "Maybe I'll get you out of there tomorrow to change you into some nicer, comfy clothes, but after that, the restraints go right back on. We can't have you hurting yourself, now can we?"

You're the only one I want to hurt, Marshall thinks with bitter resentment. "Fine. I'll be quiet."

He leaves the room, leaving Marshall alone with his thoughts.

[unholyhelbig]

Ronance prompt if you don’t mind!

Max helping Nancy realise she has feelings for Robin not Steve

[A/n: Okay, so I may have gotten a little carried away here. But It's hard not to! Thank you for the request!]

Read on Ao3 | Request a Prompt

I didn't proofread this, I'm sorry

TW: Some mild Homophobia, a little bit of blood, and Frankenstein

Frankenstein and her Monster | Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler

Max Mayfield never spent much time at the Wheeler residence, not willingly. She had been pressed by law enforcement there, something her mother was strangely absent from. And she had pulled her headphones over her ears, picking up one of the magazines that Mike’s older sister had on the coffee table, only pulling her eyes away from the laughable articles when the boys took a break from their latest campaign.

On this particular day, she had beaten Lucas, Dustin, Mike and Will to the Wheeler residence, having pedaled fast and hard until her cheeks were raw from the October air. She had no interest in swinging by Family Video on the opposite side of town just for them to settle on Star Wars again. Max couldn’t figure the difference between the three films, the only thing she had clocked was that it took place in space.

Max was content staying right where she was, her headphones over her ears, the only warm part of her body. She leaned against the oak tree in the Wheeler's yard, listening as her tape had skipped from the movement of dismounting her bike. She still hadn’t caught her breath when Nancy Wheeler pulled the Colony Park Station Wagon into the driveway.

Max clicked the button on her Walkman until the Kate Bush slowed to a stop but kept her headphones on. Nancy Wheeler had always been this elusive, unstoppable force that Max had only glimpsed out of the corner of her eye when she set the pizza down or picked Mike up from school when the snow was too thick to brave.

She would never admit that she had admiration for an adult figure, because if she did that, then it would all come crashing down. But the truth was, she did impress Max. She held her own against what they faced, the only one of the teenagers that usually ignored them that could wield a gun with competence.

Nancy Wheeler picking up the shotgun in a disheveled Byer’s residence, ready to fire at the drop of a hat, had given her the confidence that day to let a nail-filled bat land between her stepbrothers’ legs, blood staining his face.

 Max made herself invisible, dipped her head but watched as Nancy Wheeler exited the front seat of her car. She wasn’t alone. Robin Buckley was laughing as she exited the passenger side. The sound was light and bubbly- relaxed, which was something Max had never heard from the taller girl.

They pulled boxes of folded papers from the backseat and then three more from the trunk. They were methodical about piling them up in the garage. Nancy’s hand lingers on Robin’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. Robin laughs again, out of breath. There was a pinkness to her cheeks.

Max had a feverish longing. She wanted to know what was so funny, why they had seven boxes total of weathered newspapers that would most likely dust among half-empty paint cans and projects she knew Ted Wheeler would never get to.

She wouldn’t have a chance to ask. Dustin flicked the bell on his Huffy as he dipped into the driveway. Mike and Lucas weren’t far behind. The moment that the two girls were having evaporated, and they took a notable step back from one another, eyes flicking to the floor. Max hit play on her Walkman.

From that point on, it was nearly impossible for Max Mayfield to avoid Nancy Wheeler. She wouldn’t actively seek out interaction, not more than she usually did, but it was like a song that repeated on the radio five times a week after being mentioned in passing.

More often than not, Nancy wasn’t alone. Robin Buckley was by her side. There was an abundance of soft touches and tender looks. Anything that one could get away with on school grounds in Hawkins Indiana.

They close to one another on the brick retention wall overlooking the student parking lot, eating a split peanut butter and jelly sandwich and looking over a tattered copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. It was assigned reading in Mr. Tanners class. Max had it for third period and had refused to pick apart each character.

Robin’s trumpet case was next to her, Nancy’s binder resting against brick. Robin made a point of crossing her ankle of Nancy’s, the girl leaning her head on Nancy’s shoulder as she flipped the page and said something animatedly.

The wheel of Max’s skateboard got caught on one of the many potholes that the school refused to fill. Her heart was in her throat and the wind was knocked out of her with enough force to make her lungs ache.

She could feel the skin tear on her knees, even through her pants. Her palms were torn up, a bright red blood shocking her into silence. Max caught her breath first, and her surroundings second.

When her cloudy eyes looked back at the brick wall, Nancy and Robin were gone. Instead, they were right in front of her, something she had overlooked entirely. Nancy was kneeling in front of her, her sweater a soft and sweet pink. She was saying something that Max hadn’t registered.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Robin asked, kneeling next to Nancy, putting her hand reassuringly on Max’s jacket. “That was quite the spill.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a few scrapes.”

Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment. She couldn’t believe that she had fallen in front of Nancy and Robin, and that she had been afraid to admit that her body ached as a result of it. Nancy didn’t buy it- it was apparent from her stern expression.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Despite her protests, Robin picked up her skateboard and held it with ease by the wheels. Nancy kept a steady hand on her back as she led her towards the nearest bathroom and instructed her to sit on the top of the air conditioning unit under the long-barred windows.

Robin tested the weight of the board in her hand as Nancy wet a towel. “Do you think you can teach me how to ride one of these?”

“I’m not very good.” Max said.

“I’m sure that’s a lie,” Nancy directed her attention to Robin “And absolutely not. You’re not coordinated as it is. Add something without handle bars and we’re all screwed.”

Max felt herself smile at the compliment. Robin rolled her eyes so only Max could see. They argued like her mother and father used to in California before everything fell apart. Before her mother had met Neil at a bar downtown and they were implanted in Hawkins.

Nancy had used warm water and instructed Max to hold her hands palm-up. She winced as the blood was scrubbed away, distilling to an odd orange color. She worked with concentration, like she always did. Only Max saw the way Robin watched Nancy with the same expression of warmth.

In late November, Steve Harrington started to pick Nancy up from school. It wasn’t that Max was watching, because she wasn’t. There was nothing interesting about the doofus with funky hair and the girl that she admired for her bravery. Nothing interesting at all.

Max certainly hadn’t caught the small flicker of hurt that Robin carried like a sword since dulled by the falling leaves. Robin seemed content with lingering in the hallways even after band practice had ended, even as Steve and Nancy began to test the waters of their relationship again.

To Max, it seemed like a lot of things. But forced was one of them.  She liked Steve well enough, though she would never admit it. He was a good friend to Dustin and had shown an tremendous amount of effort in keeping Max safe against her dickhead of a stepbrother. But Steve Harrington was no Robin Buckley.

Growing up in California had been an experience. She had seen two women hold hands on the Santa Monica pier on the darkness of night, walking along the beach when they though they were alone. Friends, Max had figured, until their outlines moved closer, lips touching.

Neil Hargrove wouldn’t approve of such things, and neither would the town of Hawkins Indiana. So, though she pushed it to the back of her mind, she knew that liking the same gender was possible, preferred even. And when she looked at Nancy and Robin, that feeling she had on the beach warmed her again.

Max Mayfield didn’t want to add fuel to the fire that burned so heavily inside of Robin Buckley. It was an oxygen exposed blue, eating through fallen logs in the hearth of her soul. The anger roared hot and bright. They both watched Nancy smile at Steve as the car pulled from the schools parking lot.

Robin had given Max a small nod with little emotion forged through the fire. And Max nodded back as the older girl mounted her bike and pedaled in an opposite direction. She didn’t want to feel that anger herself, had no earthly right to, but some foreign part of her brain rushed to the surface, and she found herself heading towards the Wheeler residence.

The wind stung her face until it was raw. She was out of breath and had barely made it to the house by the time that Steve’s taillights vanished down the street. It was getting darker earlier now and the streetlamps had turned on as Max dismounted her board at the edge of the Wheeler’s driveway.

She took a few desperate gulps of air before knocking. Karen Wheeler answered with a confused smile on her face. “Maxine? We weren’t expecting you! Would you like me to get Mike?”

“Actually, I’m here to see Nancy.”

The words sounded stupid and childish coming form her mouth. Why would Nancy Wheeler want to see some freshman? Her mother’s face reflected the fact, but she nodded and gestured for Max to come in, told her to leave her skateboard in the foyer.

Max scrambled to come up with a reason why she would need to speak to Nancy, even as Karen called up the stairs for her eldest. The home had a warm feeling to it, even now as her heart thudded in her chest. This had been a stupid idea, so stupid and so rash. She bet Nancy wouldn’t’ think this hard about a simple conversation.

“Max,” Nancy stood at the top of the steps, head tilted at an angle. “Hi,”

“I wanted to talk to you about a… a lead. For the paper.”

Nancy wasn’t buying it, but Karen Wheeler was. She let out a content hum and clapped her hands together as if this was the most exiting thing to happen in the home when the two girls on either side of her knew it was furthest from the fact.

Regardless of this, Nancy nodded and gestured for her to come up the stairs. This was happening, this was really happening. She was going into the Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom. It was pinker than she imagined, but adult and comfortable. It smelled like cinnamon. Her desk lamp was on, homework spread across the white finished desk.

Cassettes that Max wanted to rifle through rested on the nightstand and a Tom Cruise poster was tacked to the wallpaper that fell in ropes of pink and white. Max stood frozen by the white bedspread, unsure what to do or where she was welcome to occupy space. Nancy shut the door and turned towards her, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Shit. She had never been more intimidated in her life.

“Did you read Frankenstein?” Max blurted out.  

She crossed her arms over her chest “Yes, for Turner’s class. I thought you said you had a lead?”

Max had panicked and remembered the day she had fallen hard on the pavement, a metallic taste of memory filling her mouth. They had been so close, electricity radiating between them and reaching Max across the pavement.

“I do, I just wanted to ask you something about the book first. You seem smart, I mean, and I’m in the middle of a book report for class.” Nancy rose both of her eyebrows; Max pulled her knowledge from open discussions. “European society seemed so against Frankenstein’s monster, they physically attacked him, and I can’t help but imagine how isolating that was for him. To be prosecuted for being different.”

Nancy’s stare dropped to the carpeted floor and then flicked back up to Max’s with the storm of a calming sea.

“But I think… I think that if Frankenstein’s monster was resurrected today, things would be different. Not everyone would be against him.”

“Right, but the majority would.” Nancy clenched and unclenched her jaw. “He didn't ask to be created that way or created at all. It would be easier to stay right in the lab that he was made in.”

“How will he know if he doesn’t try?”

“He could be killed if he tried. People are not inherently kind. Especially when someone is different.” Nancy blinked and shook her head, “Max, what is this about? I’m sure Mr. Turner would be able to help you much more than I could.”

Max grunted in frustration and flopped down on the freshly made bed, she breathed in the scent of detergent. She spoke into the pillow. “It has to be you.”

There was a silence in the room until Nancy lowered herself onto the side of the bed. Still, there was quiet, a calm that could hardly be mustered in any other setting. Nancy sighed into the silence.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? You don’t have to be brave around me. You don’t have to be silent.”

Max sat up faster than intended. It made her dizzy, stars dancing in front of her eyes until she blinked them away. “Me? No! I’m here for you.”

“And that’s appreciated, but I have no idea what you want to talk about.”

“You and Steve.”

“Me and Steve?”

“No, I mean, yes. You and Robin.”

“Robin?”

This was going terribly. She couldn’t get the words to dislodge from her chest. It would be terribly tactless to blurt everything out, but she feared she was being terribly tactless already. So, she took a deep stabilizing breath.

“You’re clearly in love with each other. And I didn’t want to interfere with that. But when I saw you leave with Steve today, Robin looked so crushed and everything kind of” She took a gulping breath before making an exploding gesture with her hands.

There was confusion to Nancy’s expression. The silence was back, and Max had the right mind to believe that she was going to get murdered in the middle of a pink bedroom. The words had been vomited out, unchanged from the thoughts that ran through her mind.

“Frankenstein’s monster wasn’t bad… just different.” She said to fill the void.

“I really hurt Robin, didn’t I?”

Max nodded. Not for one second did she think it was Nancy who was at fault or even Steve. It was easy to hide who you were in Hawkins Indiana. Because Hawkins wasn’t California where two girls could hold hands on the beach. Hawkins was filled with churchgoers who were like-minded. Mobs acted against what they believed was monstrous.

Nancy sniffed and used the base of her hand to wipe away a single tear that had fallen. Max didn't know what to do, she never knew what to do, but she put her hand on Nancy’s knee in case she needed her. She was there, just like Nancy had been when her knees had been bloodied.

“How did you know?”

“How did you not?” Max scoffed and shook her head. “Steve looks at you the way that you look at her.”

Nancy groaned, face in her hands. “I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Maybe, but at least there’s not a mob of townspeople after you.”

The next time Max Mayfield caught a glimpse of Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, she had just beaten her high school at Dig Dug and cleared Lucas off the board. Part of it was out of spite, the other was pure skill. But she had lost her focus and run her course breathing in the damp air of the arcade.

Robin leaned against the window of Family Video, her forest green vest over her shoulder. Steve was struggling to lock the front doors with the large key ring he possessed. Eddie Munson leaned against the side of Steve’s car, speaking animatedly with his hands. Steve rolled his eyes and Robin ignored that electricity again.

She watched as Nancy laughed and fixed the black tie that Robin wore, fingers lingering a little longer than friends, tracing the silky fabric before pulling away. Blush clouded Robin’s freckles; a smile so big it looked like it hurt.

Nancy looked across the parking lot, a knowing look on her face. She winked at Max, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Robin nodded solemnly at Max.

The skateboard under her feet slid from under her feet, air leaving her lungs as she tumbled forward onto the pavement. Her arms caught the brunt of it, but she had bitten through the skin inside of her cheek and could taste blood again, getting used to the sensation.

“Holy shit, kid!” Eddie was kneeling in front of her, a look of worry on his features. “You alright?”

She swallowed back the mix of spit and blood. “Yeah, fine, just a few scrapes. Comes with the territory.”

Steve had abandoned locking the doors. Instead, he was carefully helping Max to her feet “Maybe we should find some new territory, Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Eddie grinned “Can you teach me how to skate?”  

“Absolutely not!” Steve shoved him as they walked towards Family Video “You’re not coordinated enough to skate.”

Max smiled to herself, ignoring the stinging pain in her palms where the asphalt had torn everything away. Teenagers were weird.

[doodling-doodle]

A Modern Great War (PT.7)

Alex kept him in bed for two days.

He finally got his energy back, and he went to find Vercanna in Stalingrad

But things went very, very wrong

He was caught...

He happily spent two days in Alex’s arms. Laying in bed with him and Rose, nice and warm. He was in the comfiest clothes he had. He wanted to just stay there forever.

But, he was back to being able to function. He guessed the Aetherim settled.

He actually got up that morning. He walked around. He went to his own room after sleeping in Alex’s for the past two nights.

He was waiting for the portal. It opened at midnight. He went through it.

It was freezing. Not shocked, it was Russia. 

He walked through the destroyed buildings, and eventually realized what it was.

“This is where Kraft was trapped, right? Where it began for your era?” He asked

“Correct. This is where Vercanna made her Artifact. This is where it began.”

“And now history repeats itself.”

“Not if we can stop it.”

He kept walking for so long, walking through the buildings, and then. He found The Wand of The Wilds.

He touched it.

He passed out again.   

He woke up two minutes later.

"Seedling, it seems you took a hit to the head. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Vercanna. Thank you, though."

"Heh. He really does sound like Kraft. You should get back to your base, Seedling."

"No need to tell me twice. Norticus?" 

Two seconds later, it opened up. He went through it with The Wand, and set it on the table in his room before changing into something else, since it was snowing in Stalingrad. But it was pretty early in the morning, so he wasn't going to be able to get any sleep. It was fine.

"What next?" He asked, looking down at The Wand.

"I'm glad you asked, Seedling. Well, you need to go to the source of this mess."

He knew what she meant.

"... I have to go to the Dark Aether?"

"Yes. You have to. So you can claim our powers."

"I what?"

"You heard us, plaything."

He sighed, and looked down.

"Okay… just. Give me a bit. I need to find out what to do."

He took another breath…

And the door opened.

"Kyle, we have a Briefing in ten-"

That was Price.

He turned, and he looked shocked.

He was horrified.

"Mortal."

"I…"

"Do not say a word."

"When I broke into the Omega base, I found The Horn of Norticus, he was calling out to me, so I touched it, he had me running around for the past month while we looked for the other Elder Gods, I just came back from Stalingrad with Vercanna. The Dark Aether is rebuilding itself, Kortifex is back, the world might be falling apart, and I think it's all because of… me."

Price shut the door, and walked up.

"Dad?"

He glanced back down at the Wand before looking back at him.

"We will say nothing about this. Until we get the chance to talk about this, you did not find The Horn, you didn't go on a wild goose chase, the Dark Aether is not rebuilding itself, and it's not because of you. No one will know.”

He nodded.

“What have you done?!”

“What else was I supposed to do?!”

He heard something behind the door.

“Well, I know.”

It was Farah.

“She’s gonna tell them.” He said.

“Fuck…”

“I have to get out of here, quick.”

“Go where?”

He hesatated. “The Dark Aether.”

“... What?”

“Its the only way.”

“No. No, Kyle, please.” He gently grabbed both of his hands, “Please, I’m begging you, don’t do this. Alex and I need you. We all need you.”

“Dad…” He knew that there was no other way. “I can’t stay. I’m sorry. This is the only way. I love you all, but the world may be ending. And I’m the only one that can fix it. I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

He paused, teared up, but nodded.

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I may not be in one piece, but I’ll be back.”

He nodded, “Just go to the briefing.”

“I’ll be there in a bit, okay?”

“Okay…” He pulled him in for a hug, and stayed there for about a minute before pulling away.

He left the room, and Kyle took all of the Artifacts, and threw the bag into the portal that Norticus opened, before sitting down, and writing a letter.

“Hey, guys.

Either Farah told everyone, or she didn’t, but either way, I’m gone. 

I’ve been on a hunt for the past month. The Dark Aether is real. I’ve been hunting the Elder Gods. I won’t say ‘I told you so’, but I will say that you should’ve listened to me.

So, I’ve found the Gods, and gotten the Artifacts. The next step? Going to the Dark Aether to claim their powers.

I’m sorry. I need to do this. This is the only way. I’m trying to fix the world.

I’ll be back. I may not be in one piece, but I will be back

I love you all.

-Kyle"

He went out to the briefing room.

He was acting normal.

But the base wasn't.

The lights eventually started flickering, and the room was shaking like there was an earthquake. There wasn't one.

"Fucking- Kyle!" Alex yelled as he ran up and pulled him into a corner, and Price held onto Graves, pulling him under a table.

"If you think you can defeat me, red blood, you'd be sorely mistaken."

"Leave, Kortifex! They have nothing to do with it!" Saraxis yelled.

"But this one does."

He panicked.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Alejandro yelled from the corner, where he shielded Rodolfo.

He saw Farah.

"Gaz has been looking for the Dark Aether Elder Gods, he found their Artifacts, the Dark Aether is coming back, it's because of him, and we're all fucked!" She screamed.

Then, it stopped.

"Look at that. His team is turning against him."

"I'm opening a portal, Seedling!"

He stood as everyone looked at him. And Alex only looked sad, and worried. Not the looks of horror that the others were giving him.

"Kyle, what the fuck?" Ghost asked. 

The portal opened behind him.

Norris took out his pistol, "Don't you move another fucking muscle!"

"Tap the breaks, let's talk about this." Alex said frantically.

"There's nothing to talk about because he'll just hide it!"

He wanted to start sobbing.

"Kyle."

He turned to Alex, who was still in the corner 

"I'm sorry…"

"You don't need to be, baby. Come here. It’s okay."

“No. your not moving. If you are, its because your in custody.”

“You can’t make that call!” Price yelled, standing. 

He didn’t know what to do.

“Go through that portal!”

He sighed. He moved back just slightly. 

The trigger was pulled.

Vercanna put up some sort of wall to protect him. Saraxis used one of her Energy mines to knock Norris over.

“Run!”

He did, and Alex called out for him before he disappeared.

He was in a armory. 

“Grab what you need, we’re going to the Dark Aether.”

He did, and grabbed the bag of Artifacts before looking at the portal.

He walked through it…

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 52

The quiet chirp of her motion alarm roused Nyota from her thoughts. “Thank you for humoring me,” she said.

Lana stood patiently at the end of the hall. The warm lights here suited her far better than the cold blues of the Cultivator’s holograms, in Nyota’s eyes. “You placed them in plain sight,” she replied, acknowledging the reason without saying it aloud. They both knew how easily she could have just slipped by.

Nyota smiled. Lana’s straightforward speech was a relief against her own tangled thoughts. Her smile faded as she saw how careful, how stiff Lana held herself. “You’re injured.”

“It has already been treated,” Lana told her with a small half-smile. “I handled a raid last night.”

“Did it go well?” Raid could mean two things. Both options caught in Nyota’s throat.

“Better than expected.” Lana’s smile turned fierce, a bit of fang showing under her lip. “Only three wounded, none dead, and a shipment of food and medicine for the border settlements.”

Nyota’s eyes softened with pride. “Good. Those towns are so often neglected… But you don’t need my word for that.” She shook away a memory of foraging in the snow, armor heavy and hunger heavier as she scrounged for tubers and willed her stomach not to grow. Her eyes fell on Lana and the present again, and softened further. “How bad is it?”

Lana touched her left side, smile growing a little rueful. “Nothing serious.” The dismissive phrase turned reassuring under her voice. “It was more bad luck than anything. A glancing blow, but right in my side.”

Nyota hissed softly; her eyes widened. “That was nearly five months ago—has it still not healed?”

“It has, as much as it will.” Lana bent down, picked up the still-singing sensor, and switched it off. “Some scars never fade.”

Nyota took the sensor from Lana’s outstretched hand. “But we can still ease them, or work around them until they don’t hurt us anymore. Oldarva may be able to help you with that? She made a brace for my back a while ago. It’s subtle, easy to hide under your clothes. The pressure helps when the old burns flare up.”

Lana looked surprised, then satisfied. “That sounds like just what I need. Can she make it reinforced, or—I can discuss this with her directly later. You called me here for a reason.”

Nyota nodded. “You have your reading glasses? I can tell you, but you might want the written proof after.”

“Tell me first.” Lana took the offered note but kept her eyes on Nyota’s face.

Nyota repeated what she had read in the letter, about the strange apex meeting with unsavory bandits, the rumors of hiring. “Neither of us have patience for talking around matters,” Nyota said, meeting Lana’s eyes. “Are you or yours thinking of bringing in outside muscle?”

“Not muscle like this.” Lana took the offered letter at last and skimmed it, frown tightening each time her eyes flicked across a line. “I will check with the other camp leaders. This will only endanger us if they are trying. A location can be sold as easily as help can be bought.”

“Exactly,” Nyota said. “But I had one more fear… How far have you cornered the Miniknog?”

Lana looked up sharply.

Nyota tapped the page. “The Miniknog does not like bargaining with outside sources,” she explained slowly. “But they have done so before, for their own ends.”

Lana needed no further explanation. She nodded grimly. “Their grip is weaker now than it has ever been, in the Rebellion’s knowledge. We thought they would get desperate soon. Perhaps we were right.” She turned the paper slowly, as if looking for hidden words. “I do not know much about human bandits, Nyota. They were never a concern before now. I understand you have one of Clan Hadley in your crew?”

“We do,” Nyota confirmed. “Alice Hadley has been with us for a few months now. It was a rocky recruitment, but I trust her.”

“The heiress?” Lana’s eyes went wide.

Nyota stopped mid-word. “What do you mean?”

Lana blinked, then ran a hand down her face, one fang pressing into her lower lip. “So I know more about human bandits than you do. Ironic… Clan Hadley is traditionally female-led. Their current Queen has four children. Your crewmate is the only girl. Do you follow?”

Realization dawned and Nyota wanted to kick herself for not seeing it sooner. “So that penguin calling her Princess wasn’t just a joke. It’s hard to tell with her… You want to suggest something, Lana. What is it?”

“Go meet with Clan Hadley,” Lana said. She gestured straight and sharp in the direction of Nyota’s ship. “You have their heiress’s favor. That will keep you safe as long as you mind your actions with their Queen.” She turned back to Nyota, green eyes sharp and intense like copper-salt flames. “You can act with more freedom than we can here, Nyota. Make sure the Miniknog does not claim her, one way or the other. They will try, and try by blood if she refuses them.”

Grim reality bit in hard, mixed with a quiet, absurd longing that she and Lana could meet some day without the fate of their people at stake. “You will warn your own camps?”

“Of course.” Lana looked up at the star-strewn sky and let her eyes soften. “Nyota, Captain Saimiri…” She looked down as a Lana that Nyota had not seen before. “I have never believed our fight will end in my lifetime. But it may end in yours. Have you… thought about what you will do then?

[pinkguacamole]

Ice Camping in Antarctica!!

Our first day in Antarctica was probably the most extreme 24 hours of my life. After surviving 2 days on the Drake Passage with no seasickness, but unfortunately a nasty cold (covid-tested negative, luckily), my head was clearing up and it was time to hit the ice. For the morning our trip to Port Lockroy to see penguins in the snow was on queue, then the afternoon would lead to kayaking (previous posts) and the evening would bring Ice Camping.

It was a snowy day so some of us were thinking and maybe wishing ice camping would be postponed, but in Antarctica you have to make the best of your weather and there is a possibility that if we hadn’t had gone the first night, we may not have gone at all.

So we suited up with merino wool base layers, fleece mid layers, water proof outer layers, a bivy bag, a sleeping pad and a super warm sleeping bag and took zodiacs to shore.

When we arrived on land it was 10pm but still light out. Fresh snow was falling so our boots would disappear into the powder if we didn’t stay on packed paths our guides had shoveled out for us. I found a clearing a bit to myself in the middle and plopped down my things. I wanted set up while enjoying the peace and scenery but I quickly realized the only way to get set up would be to just get in the bag…

I stuffed my waterproof pants into my boots so they wouldn’t get filled with snow and slipped in. I was warm and comfy. By 11pm it was snowing pretty heavily so I had to zip myself up and just lay in my body bag, hoping to get some sleep. The wind and the snow picked up to about 30 knots throughout the night.

At around 1am I started to get claustrophobic in the bag. I knew it was fine and I could tell that snow had fallen and I should *not* open my bivy bag but my brain yelled “claustrophobic!!!” In a panic I punched around looking for the zipper and opened it anyways. It was still light out (midnight sun) and a wall of snow had formed around me. I repeated this panic a few more times, opening and closing the sack until I finally found a position that felt more breathable and I watched the wind and snow beat the red bag over my head until I actually managed to sleep. I was a bit worried that in my opening and closing of the bag I might have lost my beanie or other small items in the snow, but that was future Jenna’s problem.

Around 5am I heard people shuffling around and packing up. Even though I had actually found a comfy position and was managing some rest, I decided to open my bag and see what was happening. It was snowing and windy, and I probably looked warn and confused (see photo) and a guy asked if I was okay. I was fine but I asked when the boat was likely to come. He said 6.

I had an hour but it was too late, snow was gathering in my bag so I had no choice but to continue packing up and gathering my things before I was snowed in. Overnight my waterproof bag next to me had been completely buried by snow. I was pretty deep in it as well. There was a moment as I cleared snow off of my sleeping bag with freezing hands that I thought to myself “what the hell are we doing here?” But I carried on and put my stuff away. I had a lot of time to kill before we were to be rescued back to the ship so I scooted over in the deep snow towards some friends and we all joked in disbelief at what we were doing until we saw the ship dropping zodiac boats into the water and it was time to get the hell off that island.

Despite the situation being a bit absurd, when we arrived back on the ship, I felt amazing. It was the most alive I had felt on the trip so far. My dreariness from the head-cold was behind me and I was in my element! This is when I realized for good that I really do enjoy things more when I torture myself for them. Sitting around on a boat and eating at a buffet for every meal was killing me, but sleeping in the snow during a storm brought me back to life.

Would I do it again? Probably. But I don’t love bivy bags.

[theautisticbarbie]

A Bird of Praise

Act II

Chapter VI: A Dancer’s Grimace

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Word Count: 1,598

Hey I know it’s been a while since I last updated! My life got super crazy! This one is kinda short, but a longer one is coming! I promise!

Chapter Summary: Tara begins to feel the consequences of her confrontation with the baby troll she found in Dustin’s room. Meanwhile, Eddie decides to show support to her in a way that she’s surprised by.

Warnings: Billy being his usual jerkass self, Tara trying to treat her own wounds because medical trauma, Eddie being an absolute fluff bucket

“Oh shit,” Eddie mumbled, looking at Billy. “Look, man, I’m sure you’ve said this a thousand times, but it’s not what it’s looks like.”

“You mean I’ve heard this a thousand times?” Billy corrected.

“I know what I said.”

“We didn’t do anything!” Tara interjected. “He gave me a ride back home and I got hurt on the way, so he took me to urgent care and now he’s just helping me get ready for bed.”

Tara gestured to her bandaged leg for emphasis. Billy quirked a brow and kicked it, causing Tara to shriek in pain.

“Hm. Guess it’s real,” Billy remarked. “You think I’m stupid or something?”

“Look, man, you saw for yourself—“ Eddie began to interject.

“This doesn’t involve you, freak.”

Billy turned his attention back to Tara. “I’m not a fucking idiot. If you wanna huff chemicals and get high, fine, but don’t bullshit me with these dumbass conspiracy theories.”

“If I want to WHAT??” Tara asked, trying to catch her breath and make sure she heard that correctly.

“And yesterday. You think I wasn’t gonna find out that Buckley slept over and you drove her to school?”

“Well, I mean, you were pretty hungover! I didn’t exactly feel safe getting in a car with you! And Robin is my best friend! Was I supposed to just leave her?”

“You really are an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“Okay, fine. I’m the biggest idiot to ever live! But I wasn’t huffing chemicals!”

“Come on, Tara. Cut the crap. You were so high that you were basically repeating the same five words.”

Tara was dumbfounded. To her knowledge, she had only been blacking out. “What words?” she asked.

“I don’t fucking remember. I just remember you being high as shit.”

“I wasn’t high!” Tara said defensively.

“Whatever. I’m going home. I’ll collect on that favour some other time.”

Once Billy left the house, Tara sighed. His behaviour was getting harder to predict and that scared her.

“What favour, if I may ask?” Eddie asked curiously.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Tara said, rolling her eyes. “I’m exhausted. I just wanna sleep.”

“No problem, princess,” Eddie said, returning to undressing her.

The moment was sweet and tender, at least until the two heard shouting and arguing across the street.

Neither of them could hear a word of it, but the sound of screaming, blows landing and glass shattering spoke for itself.

Tara began to shake when Eddie put his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Tara said, taking a breath. “I just wanna sleep.”

“Come on,” Eddie said, tucking her under her bedsheets. “Let’s get you nice and warm.”

“Music box,” Tara mumbled.

“Hmm?”

Tara pointed to a small music box on her nightstand. Eddie smiled and opened it, allowing it to play “Swan Lake”.

Tara snuggled into her sheets and Eddie turned his attention to her bookshelf.

He settled on the tale of Snow White to lull her to sleep.

When Tara woke up, her leg was in agony. She rushed to the bathroom to see that it was bleeding again.

Taking matters into her own hands, Tara grabbed her pointe shoe sewing kit and a first aid kit.

She used her lighter to heat up and sterilise her sewing needle and, using a bathroom towel to bite on, began sewing the wound shut.

After applying Neosporin and disinfecting it, she wrapped it in fresh bandages and decided to hope for the best.

The next morning when she woke up, Daniel had just gotten in the door. His face and neck were covered in lipstick marks.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked. “You look like shit.”

Without answering, Tara rolled her eyes and walked right past him to go pick up Alanna.

Eddie, meanwhile, had decided to borrow some dress old clothes from his uncle, who was very confused by this.

“Boy, where are you going where you need to be dressed so nice?” Wayne finally asked.

“I’m going to see the ballet!”

“Since when did you like watching ballet?”

Eddie had rushed into his van and driven off.

“That boy is gonna be the death of me someday. I just know it.”

Even dressed nicely, Eddie still stuck out like a sore thumb. Ballet clearly was not his scene.

He got his ticket, a program and took his seat.

He looked at the program while waiting for the show to start, clearly making an idiot of himself.

“First time at the ballet?” an elderly English woman asked, taking a seat next to him.

“Yeah. I’m supporting a friend of mine.”

“How nice! I’m quite sure your friend appreciates that!”

“And you?”

“I’m here for my granddaughter.”

The music began and the curtain came up after the intro was finished.

The elderly woman took it upon herself to narrate the story to Eddie as it was unfolding.

“That’s Prince Albrecht. A nobleman who came to the village to sow his wild oats after being engaged in an arranged marriage. He’s decided to disguise himself as a peasant to do so! Oh look! He’s hiding his nobleman sword in Giselle’s cottage.”

Eddie sniggered at the euphemism.

“Oh! Here comes my granddaughter!”

Tara emerged from the cottage dressed as Giselle and began her introductory dance number.

“No way! That’s my friend!” Eddie said.

“Oh well I suppose I should introduce myself! I’m Kathryn. It’s lovely to meet a friend of Tara’s!”

“Eddie. Pleasure to meet you as well.”

“This is the part where Giselle professes her love to Albrecht through her solo!”

Tara was holding up great, but having to jump on her toes for this solo hurt a lot, especially with her injury, even with toe pads. Nevertheless, she pulled through to finish with the pique turns.

“This is the part where Hilarion exposes Albrecht as a fraud and Giselle goes mad and dies of a broken heart.”

Tara grabbed the prop sword and jammed it into her chest.

“That’s Queen Myrtha of the Willis. She leads the charge against men who have fatally wronged women and makes them dance to the death.”

Eddie looked admiringly at Chrissy on the stage.

“This is the part where the Willis catch Hilarion, dance him to exhaustion and throw him into the ravine to drown.”

It was the fact that Chrissy wiped her hands together as though she had just taken out the trash for Eddie.

“This is the part where Giselle tricks the Willis into dancing by the window of the cathedral, when she draws the curtain, exposing the Queen Myrtha and her minions to the sunrise, forcing them to spare Albrecht and retreat!”

The fact that Tara was able to bouree backwards with her eyes closed was definitely no mean feat.

“But her heroic act comes at a great cost. By exposing herself to the sunlight, she has condemned herself to spend all of eternity in the afterlife. Albrecht begs her not to go, for now he loves her deeply. Giselle tells him that he must go on, marry Bathilde and be happy, before crossing into the great beyond.”

Tara was lowered into the prop grave before the curtain closed.

The applause was thunderous. Even Eddie wasn’t expecting this from a ballet.

In the lobby where everyone was reuniting, Tara saw Eddie with her grandmother.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?”

“I had to come out and support you!”

Tara’s face was red with blush. “Oh wow! You came all the way from Hawkins for me?”

“Of course I did! And I gotta say, I wasn’t disappointed at all. Madness? Vengeful spirits? Self sacrifice? Pretty metal!”

“Don’t most of your father’s side of the family live near this city?” asked Kathryn.

“Yeah! They couldn’t make it out this way, though. It was too short notice and Abuela is a shut-in, so she couldn’t come no matter what.”

“We came!”

Tara turned around to see where that who said that.

“Sam! Gabby!”

Tara gave them both a big hug.

“Eddie, this is my cousin, Gabby and her fiancé Sam!”

“Oooooo, is this your boyfriend?” Gabby asked teasingly.

Both Eddie and Tara blushed furiously and gave adamant “no”s.

“We’re just friends!” Tara finished.

“Just friends!” Eddie punctuated.

“Awww, and I was hoping to get to know him better at the rehearsal dinner,” Sam teased.

“I’ll bring my boyfriend to the rehearsal dinner. I already said I would!” Tara said, trying to laugh it off.

Trying to laugh off the sense of dread of how Billy might ruin her birthday tomorrow.

“Anyway, I gotta drive Alanna home. I was her ride here and it’s getting late.”

The two didn’t even make it onto the interstate before Tara had another episode. One second, they were having a fun conversation, the next, she completely stopped in the middle of the road, let go of the steering wheel and her mind went blank.

“Breathe. Sunflower. Three to the right. Four to the left. Rainbow. 450.”

“Chica, what are you doing? We’re in the middle of the road!” Alanna exclaimed.

“Breathe. Sunflower. Three to the right. Four to the left. Rainbow. 450.”

“Chica!”

“Breathe. Sunflower. Three to the right. Four to the left. Rainbow. 450.”

“CHICA GET OUT OF THE FUCKING ROAD!” Alanna slapped Tara hard.

Tara turned to face her. The blood ran down her nostril to her lip.

“Breathe. Sunflower. Three to the right. Four to the—“ Tara suddenly snapped out of it. “Wha..”

“Drive!”

Tara immediately snapped out of it and resumed driving.

“What the hell was that?” Alanna asked.

“I… I don’t know…”

[heavysoldat]

heat

tfatws!bucky barnes x reader

summary after the heat goes out in your apartment, the cold brings bucky back to a place he never wanted to be again, leaving him desperate for a way to forget.

warnings SMUT (unprotected shower sex, cunnilingus, fingering, desperate!bucky, creampie), insinuations of PTSD and nightmares, classic hurt/comfort porn fic

notes i have so many wips and instead i post something completely unrelated. this may or may not be inspired by the fact that my heat went out, and when it finally came back my heater literally fucking exploded. i love the city

The blankets aren’t enough to keep you warm tonight.

The apartment you share with Bucky is freezing, the winter snow and lack of heat in your building making the night almost unbearable. Like always, your landlord said he’d fix it later — but by that, you know he means weeks.

1:45 AM.

Bucky’s asleep next to you, having finally drifted off an hour ago while you were cuddled up against your headboard, watching some sitcom Bucky had never seen before. He was already uneasy. You know that much.

You weren’t so lucky with sleep. You’ve been tossing — but even the personal radiator of a super soldier next to you couldn’t warm you enough to sleep, your insomnia gathering too much for your body tonight. Just one of those nights.

It starts with a small huff. There’s a quiver in his tone, barely noticeable, but you know him too well; that itself is enough is to set off alarm bells in your mind.

The huff turns into groans. His movements turn into tosses and turns. Everything extends into something aggressive, until he’s left panting and shaking against your freshly cleaned bedsheets, fingernails ripping the tiniest of holes into the fabric.

Your mind runs a hundred miles a minute — it’s been so long since you’ve seen him have a nightmare. It’s been so good. Nothing but peaceful sleep for the past four months. You’ve almost forgotten what to do.

You shake him by the shoulder, fighting back the panic you feel rising into your chest. He jolts awake, eyes wide in fear, body pale and shaking. “Hey, hey, baby,” You say. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

Bucky looks around, then back at you. His body is sweaty and he's trembling uncontrollably. He stares at you, hot tears falling down his cheeks. "I'm right here." You repeat. "I'm right here. You're safe."

He stares at you, blank and unreadable, and you reach out to him. When he doesn’t flinch, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. He pauses, no read, but eventually he huddles himself against you, face nuzzling into your neck.

After a moment, he sniffles. Pulling his head up, slowly but surely, he leans his head against yours. "I'm sorry," He says.

“Don’t be.” You say. “You can’t help it. It’s not your fault.”

There’s still hot tears in his eyes threatening to spill. You wipe the ones that have already broken through with your fingers, watching as he nuzzles his face into the palms of your hands.

You know how he gets when it’s cold. Nothing ever goes well for him when it’s cold.

”Do you want to take a shower?” You ask, voice soft, “We still have hot water.”

He looks up at you, eyes puppy-like and sad, and before he nods. You smile down at him, grabbing his hand, leading him off of your bed and towards the bathroom. You flip the lights on, walking on the cold tile towards the shower and turning the water on.

Motioning for him to strip, you check the temperature. “Okay, Buck,” You hum, “The water’s nice. You go ahead and get in, I’ll come back with some more blankets and snacks. We can watch a movie once you’re done, how does that sound?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, going silent.

”Can you come in with me?” He asks, voice trembling. Your heart breaks for him. There’s nothing more you want to do than reach out, kill every demon he’s ever faced and hold him tighter than anyone ever has, but you know you can’t. Some battles you have to leave.

”Of course, if that’s what you want.”

He nods. Slow.

You peel of your clothes, piece by piece, before hopping into the shower and under the warm water. After a moment, you feel him step in beside you, staying close behind you.

Bucky’s arms wrap around the expanse of your waist, pulling your back towards his front. His head digs back into your shoulder, breath shaky against your skin. Goosebumps melt against you.

”You’re safe.” You say, for the third time tonight. “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.”

“I know,” He says. “I know.”

You stay like this for a moment more. Just holding each other, skin against skin, the stubble on his face tickling your neck. His hands keep themselves respectful. They always do.

“I love you,” He says, kissing your neck with soft pecks, “I love you.”

”I love you too, baby,” You hum.

He turns you around, gently, before placing a tender kiss against your lips. It’s hesitant, and you can still feel his body trembling against yours. You help him by bringing him closer, deepening it. Giving him the passion he deserves.

You have to stand on your tippy toes to kiss him.

Bucky’s body presses against yours on instinct, hands growing impatient without him even knowing, itching to go through the valley of your skin.

His lips part from yours, barely, mouths still ghosting over each other as he speaks. “Doll…”

”I know, Buck.” You say. “I know.”

”No.” He says, with the must confidence he’s had tonight, but is immediately contradicted by a shaky breath. “I need… I need you, honey.”

“You have me.”

”I need you.”

His mouth leaves sloppy kisses over your neck, devouring you, hands kneading into the flesh of your ass. You gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders for stability.

”Buck-“

”No,” He’s pleading, “Make it go away.”

Bucky falls down to his knees on the tile. He parts your legs himself, finding no use in waiting. His face falls between your thighs, pressing hot, breathy kisses against them, practically burying his face into your legs, nuzzling into you like a kitten.

“You don’t have to.” You say, almost panicked by his sudden demeanor.

”I want to,” He says in-between kisses. “I need to. Please. Fuck, please, let me have you?”

Bucky’s begging you, and who are you to say no? Who are you to deny him, teary-eyed and sloppy beneath your legs?

”Okay,” You breathe. “Okay.”

As soon as you say it, his face buries itself in your cunt. His tongue slips anywhere he can fit it; licking against your wet hole and your swollen clit. The desperation he’s giving you is going straight to your core.

He’s like a man starved, sucking and licking and kissing the entire expanse of your pussy. He latches his mouth onto your clit, sucking with a plan, fingers slipping inside your clenched hole. You can barely stand, grabbing onto his short hair for dear life, praying to God you don’t fall and crush this man under you.

”Fuck,” You’re moaning, gasping, “fuck, fuck,”

He doesn’t let up. Fingers are sliding against that spongy spot inside of your cunt, lips suckling you like a newborn calf — your orgasm builds in you like a wire that’s about to snap. Your legs are shaking against Bucky’s head, his free hand digging into your skin to make sure you don’t fall.

“I’m cumming,” You can feel it, it’s so close, almost there— “Fuck, Bucky, I’m cumming!”

Your legs trap him in your cunt when they squeeze around him. Your orgasm tears through you, shaking your body and making you fall back against the wall. He fucks you through it with his fingers, moaning his own symphony against your trembling cunt.

”Fuck,” You moan, moving your legs from off his shoulders. Bucky presses kisses down your thighs, back up, finally standing up on front of you and kissing you deeply.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You say, panting against his mouth, “I’m supposed to be making you feel better here.”

He chuckles at that, and the sound itself arms your heart. He kisses the tip of your nose, a smile finally making it’s way to his face. “That did make me feel better.”

”Mmm,” You hum, hands wandering against his chest, “I’m glad.”

Bucky swallows, thick, biting down into his lip with a vengeance — “Can I…” Hands, one warm and one cold, slip down your spine, making their way towards your ass again, “Can I fuck you?”

You breathe out. “Do you even have to ask?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, cold against his skin, but it’s the words that make him shiver.

"Please." You whisper. “Fuck me.”

You hear him grunt, before his mouth hot is on yours again. Your back presses back against the shower wall, and his hands go under your thighs to lift you up. His cock his hard against your thigh, throbbing and leaking precum onto your skin.

“Can you say it?” He pants, pulling on your lip with his teeth, “Please?”

”I want you inside me, Bucky. Please.”

That does it for him.

His cock catches against your hole, before he slides it inside you without a stutter. Bucky groans tightly, hand grabbing at your breast and kneading it.

You gasp. Moaning, you say, “Feels good,” as he humps his hips against yours. The movements are slow, but his cock is deep — buried in you like he wants to consume you, because he does. He needs to be as close to you as he can. As close as his body will let him. He needs to devour you.

“You’re so tight,” He pants, “You’re so tight.”

”Harder,” You moan. “Harder.”

His hips begin to snap against yours. His balls are slapping against the bottom of your ass, his face buried in your neck again, moaning and whimpering into your skin. His voice is high, wanting, needing.

”I need it,” He’s panting, whimpering, desperately clinging to you, “I need it, fuck, please, I need it so bad — please!”

You grip onto his back, nails almost breaking his skin. “Cum for me, fuck, please, cum in me. Fill me up.”

With a grab of his ass, his hips stutter and his cock throbs. He delivers one last snap of his hips before the dam breaks, cumming inside of your cunt with a strained whimper.

”There you go,” Your voice is barely a breath. “Good, honey, you’re so good.”

There’s silence as you both come down, nothing left but your heavy pants and the pattering of the shower water. You watch the steam fog up the glass of the shower, Bucky pressing sleepy kisses to your collarbones. “I love you, I love you so much.”

You hum, hands curling into his hair, “I love you.”

Another beat.

“Can we still watch that movie?” He asks, still panting, still sleepy, still sweet. Still angelic. “I want to go to bed and veg.”

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Of course we can.”

You wash each other off in the steamy water, before you’re carried to bed and warmed with bagged snacks and canned soda — laying idly with your lover, a terrible comedy plastered on the TV.

And when he’s at peace, you couldn’t be happier.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 6

Summary: Losing someone can make you realize what was already there and the Darkling is about to find that out the hard way.

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five  

=================================

Five days have passed and the Darkling had never stopped looking for his wife. His men never saw him rest, sleep was simply never on his agenda. He barely ate at all, merely giving time for the rest of them to gather their strength.

He was restless, constantly questioning how this could have happened. No matter how he looked at it, the Darkling felt guilt consuming him. Without his rage, he worried the guilt would have paralyzed him. Had he not went on a pointless hunt for something that’s likely a tale, she would have been right by his side, antagonizing him.

It’s been hundreds of years since he felt this way, as if his heartstrings are being pulled by someone other than himself. In this search for Y/N, he realized she is consuming. After all, she might have been right – a part of him may actually care for her. He cursed that part of himself over and over again as result.

They’ve tracked her toward Fjerdan borders. Every now and then, they would find bodies on the road, their throat cut or stabbed right through the heart. Sometimes, he found them alive still. He never refrained from calling on his shadows, trying to draw useful information to close in on their whereabouts.

Y/N never saw him use his shadows before. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d disapprove of the means he’s using to find her. After all, she called him a demon on their wedding night. She would never accept him as he is, he had no doubt about that.

Did she want to be found by him?

The first body they found, the Darkling smiled. He didn’t question it was her hands who have taken the man’s life. There was no concrete proof, but he was certain of it. Every body found felt like her own version of breadcrumbs.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled heavily. If she managed to set herself free so many times to leave what was now five dead men behind, he couldn’t help but worry for her safety. What was the price of each crumb she left?

It wasn’t just the exposure to snow he worried about – and he did worry as she got cold too quickly and he was the one to warm her up before. Who’d warm her up now?

The darkness of the forest gave him cause to worry too – she may have tried to hide it, but he knew she was afraid of the dark. He realized it when her breathing turned shallow and fast their first night together just as she extinguished the candlelight. The next night, he left his candle to burn long into the night.

Something stirred inside him, a beast has awakened. Despite the war his heart and mind waged, he wondered if he’s his own worst enemy. Maybe it was time to let someone in. For too long, he had been alone in the shadows of his past lives.

Why is he repeating the same mistakes?

How can he be afraid when he married a woman who never blinks in the face of danger?

His heart was ice and stone until she came and now the ice has started to melt. All he’s done is hurt and destroy, but he wanted out of the loneliness that clings to him.

She was right, as hard as it is to admit it. He’s a demon, a devil that walks the earth and he cares. Because of her he hopes he might love again and he can’t let anyone take that from him – hope is the only thing stronger than fear. And when a devil falls in love and discovers hope, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful sight. They should fear him as he will go to the depths of hell to protect her.

While his eyes may have been closed, his heart jumped as a bright flash forced him to open them again.

He was never given a chance to be soft. His hands had to be bloody, to have people fear him. Only when they feared him, they wouldn’t hurt him. Now was the time to show them just why they fear him.

“Where?” He growled out, looking to Ivan and Fedyor who were looking at the sky.

“East”, Fedyor replied hastily, ready to follow Kirigan who set off in said direction without a second thought. He didn’t order anyone to follow, but they did.

Ivan and Fedyor walked two steps behind their general, alert as the flash had awakened them from a deep slumber. They weren’t the only ones shaken, unsure what they’re walking into but none showed fear as their general lead them straight to the source. Their loyalty, their belief in general Kirigan runs deep.

Except for David. He was afraid. He didn’t want to be in that forest and he didn’t want to be in danger, but he trusted Kirigan. Besides, Y/N was nice and Genya seemed to like her. So he came along too.

Kirigan walked in strides, the snow didn’t slow him down. His hands formed fists, his face twisted in anger, but his heart pounded in his chest as he had no inkling what he might find. All he knew was that he had to get there, fast.

As if made of darkness itself, the Darkling emerged on what looked like a battlefield. The trees surrounded a small clearing covered in snow that melted under the spilled blood – still warm as it poured from the dead surrounding her.

She’s on her knees, two Fjerdans chaining her up as if she’s a wild animal.

“You think you’re scary, huh?” She spat at the Fjerdan’s feet – a crimson liquid, Darkling realized. She’s bleeding.  

“That’s adorable”, she chuckled maniacally as she held her fierce gaze on the Fjerdan stood before her. They pulled her left hand behind her back and her right hand in front as they tightened the chains that were secured over rope that laid just beneath.

Darkling’s blood boiled. It is fear that brings rage, that hot burning anger that seeks to harm. Once again, he was afraid, not of her but for her.

Four more Fjerdans came from behind the trees, all covered in blood. “Fucking bitch”, one of them kicked her in the ribs and he couldn’t take anymore. He could kill them easily for what they’ve done – he’s killed every one of them he ran into in the past five days without even blinking, regardless if they were involved in her disappearance or not.

“Mister, I’ve seen scary and you don’t have his handsome smile.”

Licking his lips, the Darkling nearly smiles at her remark. There’s no possible way she means anyone else but him. Looking at his Grisha, he found them nearly all in position. They would attack in a minute, swiftly and deadly.

Yet in a moment of carelessness, he missed the Fjerdans realization they’re being watched. Too quickly, more of them appeared. The pitiful human managed to land a few consecutive blows to Darkling’s face before drawing a dagger.

Angry, dark eyes showed the Fjerdan that the Darkling’s brain is in a different mode, that he has switched gears from empathy he had for his wife to cold emotional indifference. Never once has he directed this mode in Y/N’s direction, yet it emerged when he sensed a threat to her life, letting out a part of him that was full on protective.

Grunting, the Darkling’s eyes narrowed at the human who dared to sink the blade into his heart. Despite his immortality, he could still hurt. The pain of a stab wound felt just as it would if here as fragile as the human before him.

But he’s not human at all.

Connecting his hands, the Darkling lifts his head as he summons the darkness that spills from every corner of the forest. “Foolish”, he sneers, “Attacking me in the dark?” The Darkling smirked, walking past the petrified Fjerdan, allowing his shadows to administer a thousand cuts for his transgression.

As he walked toward the middle of the circle, his shadows followed, aiding his Grisha in taking the rest of the Fjerdans so quickly that Y/N gasped.

Looking around in shock, she found Kirigan kneeling beside her.

“You have a knife”, she coughed into her shoulder, “A knife in your chest.”

“I promised”, he gasped for breath as he pulled the knife from his chest. “That I would protect you and I intend to keep the damn promise.”

On the brink of tears, her lips quivered before she laughed. “I thought you’d let them kill me.” Better to laugh than cry, she thought.

Frowning, he shook his head. “That would be too easy”, he waved David over who stood at the tree line, wide eyed. “If anyone’s going to kill you, it should be me.”

Even with tears blurring her vision, she giggled at his stupid remark. She had tried so hard to free herself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been captured by enemies, she knew what to do. But there were so many of them. Each time she freed herself, they would descend upon her. She managed to run, twice, each time they dragged her back kicking and screaming.

Despite his words, Y/N didn’t believe Kirigan would come for her. She had to be her own hero and she tried. In the end, she used everything at her disposal – everything.

Feeling the chains drop, Y/N glances at David, “Thank you.” The ropes were cut as well, but she didn’t move. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she could stand on her own and asking for help would wound her. Rubbing her bruised wrists, she reluctantly looked at Kirigan.

“Here”, Kirigan offered his hands. Truth be told, he wanted to carry her, but he knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Hissing, she forced herself up despite Kirigan’s offer. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

He’d have asked her again because she trembled when the wind blew. Her hair was matted with blood, her face red and not from blushing. He could see the damage they’ve done more clearly now as she bent to take a deep breath as if the simple act of breathing hurt her.

Staring at her, he nodded despite his better judgment. Her breathing was ragged, dragging her feet as she walked. She felt his eyes on her, it unnerved her. All she could do is hope her legs don’t give out, but it felt as if they would betray her any moment now.

“Go and make camp ahead”, he ordered his Grisha to speed up as he realized her stubbornness would kill her. Stepping before her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. There would be no asking her for permission this time, he’ll not allow her to deny his help. Hoisting her up in his arm, he held his breath as she cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

How could he not bring any healers? How could he have been so stupid?

Groaning, she sent him a stern glare yet found no anger in his. His eyes are like the ocean - they have the potential to destroy, yet when the waves reach the shore, they dissipate, leaving soft designs in the sand as a gentle reminder of its presence.

Leaning into his embrace, Y/N let out a gentle sigh of resignation. She’s been caught in the riptide and for once, she doesn’t want to fight it.

“I really thought I’d die”, she admits reluctantly.

Feeling him stiffen as he held her in his arms, Y/N frowned. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, or anything at all. This isn’t what they do, they don’t bare their hearts open.

“And when I faced death”, she continued regardless. Tilting her head to look up at him, she let out a shuddered exhale. A shy smile adorned her lips as their eyes shared a gaze so tender, an outsider would believe them to be in love.

“I thought how silly it is that I don’t know your first name.”

Snorting, Kirigan raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yes”, she breathes out.

Looking at her now, the Darkling couldn’t believe this is his wife. The woman who infuriates him so often seemed so small, so fragile in his arms. Her gaze held remains of the horrors she was cast into and yet he never saw her as earnest before.

“I married you and I don’t even know your name.”

Licking his lips, he stops. Truth be told, no one actually knows his name. His name was long forgotten, a piece of his soul he had left behind in the fold. He promised himself he’d never utter it while he lives. He had promised he would never be that man again.

Unfortunately for him, he seems to be breaking his promises lately.

He promised her he’d protect her and he failed, just as he promised himself he’d never care for her and yet he does.

“Aleksander”, he mutters, still unsure if it’s the right decision. He placed one of his greatest secrets in the hands of a woman who’d see his world burn. He gave her power she never should possess and yet he’s not afraid. No one could make him fear anything after the ordeal he was put through since she decided to tear down his defenses.  

Smiling softly, she closed her eyes. Resting her head on his shoulder she felt satisfied. It may be small, but finding out his name felt like a victory. She was born to play this game, it was her destiny. He is her destiny.

Waking up, she found herself wrapped in several blankets inside a tent. Grunting, she struggled to sit up on her own. It seemed to be dark still, but she had a blue light lantern lit inside. She may not know who left it there, but Y/N was thankful. Despite her fear of dark, she found it odd she did not fear Aleksander’s darkness at all.

When his shadows nearly encased her in the clearing, she didn’t fret or worry. She smiled.

As contradictory as it may seem, she wished he was with her now. Her entire body ached and still, she was more bothered by the empty spot beside her. Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip. Would it be so bad if she showed a sliver of vulnerability for a single night? Would making a small concession such as this truly take away her power?

Before she has a chance to change her mind, she’s already outside of her tent. The cold chilled her to the bone, biting every inch of exposed skin. Teeth chattering, she looked to the tent next to hers as it was the only one so close – seemingly intentional.

Trying to open it in the cold seemed impossible as her fingers shook violently. Feeling faint, she wondered why she couldn’t just stay in her own tent for the night. Surely it would have been a better idea than to admit she’s scared to be alone.

A warm liquid trickled down her lip and she nearly laughed at her own idiocy. The darkness and cold and her own injuries have all been fairly good reasons for her to just sleep and try to recover and she still tried to find her husband who showed so much disdain for her in the past.

Just as she was about to give up, a familiar head of hair peaked through.

Shivering, she wipes the liquid from under her nose with the back of her hand. Looking at it, she realizes it’s blood. There’s a slightly dazed look in her eyes, the blood loss suffered over the past days leaving its mark.

Looking up at Kirigan, her lips tremble and she sways slightly as her legs threaten to give out. “I didn’t know who else to go to”, she mumbles meekly before collapsing into Kirigan’s arms.

No…Aleksander’s arms.

Pulling her inside, he wrapped her in his arms as she shivered. Covering her with blankets didn’t seem to help either, but he had confidence it would soon enough.

She closed her eyes, clinging to him and selfishly, he smiled. It brought back memories of the night she climbed atop of him to warm up, he assumed. She didn’t know he was awake then, but she did now. She trusted him enough to seek warmth and as her shivers stopped slowly. That’s when the Darkling realized he would never deny her anything she asked of him.

“Fuck”, he whispers under his breath and her eyes open.

He looked at her in a haunted way, a shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and she reached up to touch it, her chest aching when he nuzzled into her palm. They have never been quite as tender with one another, never so intimate. It felt surprisingly nice.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, feeling so emotionally raw. Physical pain and lingering fear of impending death must have weakened her for a short while. Surely, she can allow herself a few moments of humanity?

He caught her wrist and pulled her hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”

Drawing a shuddered breath, her eyebrows knitted in worry. That’s where the knife was, she remembered with guilt. He could have died for her. Hating him requires too much energy; one she had little to spare. For the night, he can just be her husband and she will just be his wife. What harm can it do?

“Why did you come for me? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t fight for me?” Her confidence wavered as he sighed, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Not only did he come for her, but he murdered men for her.

Blinking slow, half in a daze as a low-grade fever began to grip her too, she had no more strength to deny how beautiful he is or how disarming his charm is. He may never love her, but she could…she could love him. If she ever fell for him, she knew she’d never be able to unlove him. She wouldn’t want to and that…that felt oddly comforting. For once, she was too tired to listen to her mind that preferred to set the world on fire rather than care for him.

As her eyes closed and her face relaxed, he stayed awake. He didn’t understand it, but he embraced the warm feeling spreading in his chest as she fell asleep.

“I’d burn this world for you.”

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PART 7