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sdaomine · 1 year

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'til death do us part... or 'til i kill you first

Things take a sharp turn when Marius and Vyn discover each other's secret identities. Filing a divorce is on the table, but Vyn takes matters into his own hands—after all, he'd rather end the marriage here than in court.

A/N: Finally, FINALLY done with this fic that has long been rotting in my drafts! I've been wanting to write a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU for my favorite gay ship but lacked the time to actually finish it (but here we are!). I wrote this in 2022 but only concluded it today, AMIDST my many, many university backlogs <3 Anyway, I know some stuff here won't make sense but this is a self-indulgent fic so... yeah.

wc: 13.8k words.

Six years in.

Six years of a wonderful marriage. Six years of black tea and chocolate drink during early mornings. Six years of intoxicating kisses, sweet and zealous; six years of what the youngest von Hagen called the best fuck he’d ever get in his lifetime.

You see, when you marry the love of your life and spend wild, beautiful years with them, you start to think you are building your relationship’s mighty foundation—that sooner or later, the two of you would be able to finally lower those invisible walls which had always separated you, because admit it or not, there is no marriage built without deep, dark secrets.

But six years in and Marius von Hagen finds himself holding tightly onto his gun—a pretty sleek silencer he so cherished, a gift from his brother—his back pressed hard against the wall just beside the stairs, waiting.

“Hah—shit. Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his chest heavy, almost suffocating. Marius pressed one hand against his heart, feeling its erratic pace and, at this very moment, he was all but trying to calm his rapid breathing.

But then there was a quiet creak on the wooden stairs.

Marius’ eyes screwed shut. Fuck fuck fuck—

Marius threw himself to the side, hiding further beneath the wall, just in time—just in time before a series of raining bullets holed through the wooden wall and the staircase banister, which was soon followed by another round of rapid firing. Marius shook his head as he waited for it to stop.

With one arm protecting his head, Marius leaned slightly against the safer side of the house. Deep down he cursed and cursed the sheer agony of having to prop himself like that against the wall, right after he had dived into the floor like it was some massive pool of water. “Goddamn,” he cursed quietly, and however could he not? His once neatly painted Victorian walls that probably cost some other person’s soul were now ripped into shreds, the wood falling off, their deadly splinters scattered around. There were holes all over, both small and wide, and Marius took a little peek.

There he is.

Vyn Richter, Stellis’ most esteemed psychiatrist: well-mannered, elegant, so fucking pretty. Marius was in awe even when the doctor, who still wore his pearl, white coat, carried two massive rifles in both of his hands. Fucking assault rifles. Just where the fuck did you keep those in our fucking house, Vyn?

A sly smirk curved the doctor’s lips. Vyn caught a glimpse of his husband peeking through the small holes and asked, a little too seductively for Marius’ taste, “Darling, you are still alive?”

Dammit!

Vyn held back a scowl when he heard nothing. Marius used to surprise Vyn whenever he came home from work, so it was not impossible the young CEO had already switched hiding places. And so Vyn, as silently as he could, made his way down the stairs—

“Still am, baby.”

Vyn dived down the stairs instinctively, hissing out small, foreign curses as he landed—crashed—on the floor. He helped himself up with animalistic speed and grabbed his weapons, dashing towards the room opposite the wall where Marius continued to fire his silencer gun.

The doctor clutched his side and winced. Two minutes in and he already got himself a bruise.

“Stupid brat,” he muttered sharply as he reloaded his rifle. “Whatever crossed my mind? I should have killed him that fucking night.”

Two nights ago.

Vyn—in his white Mercedes—took a sharp turn round the bend of his English garden, leading out of the mansion gates. He was running, no, driving away from Marius. Why? Nothing much, really. Just that after six years of marriage Marius found out that aside from being a psychiatrist, his dear husband actually worked as an assassin. Learned that Vyn was a killer from another agency, which unfortunately for Marius was PAX’s worst rival with… well, dirty work.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Marius was an experienced killer, too, a secret even the best psychiatrist in the country must have somehow missed.

So… shit.

It was supposed to be a romantic dinner date. Vyn came home earlier than usual (he had to call off his assassination schedule that night) so he could cook his husband’s favorite dinner. The ever-so-loving Vyn Richter even lit candles on the table, did some last-minute flower arrangements, all so they’d have a good time (He even had half a mind to light candles and scatter rose petals across their bedroom, for a change). It had been a while since the last time he’d eaten a proper meal with Marius, anyway.

But there was something amiss, and Vyn was upset. Upset with the fact that he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Or what could possibly go wrong.

Although he was quite certain it involved his husband. And involved he was indeed because Marius was all but suspicious that whole evening, asking this and that, inquiries Vyn himself often utilized whenever he questioned a target or a client. And he wouldn’t have been a renowned psychiatrist if his husband’s dubious actions went unnoticed. Marius. I did not know he would be this daft.

Until the bottle of wine Marius was holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, and Vyn—who was seated, his back turned away, his attention wholly fixated on anything other than Marius and his wine—caught the bottle swiftly with one hand.

It was then he realized he’d made a grave mistake, because if anything his husband’s grip was always firm, and not in this life would Marius von Hagen let a million-stellin wine slip from his hands.

Marius let it slip on purpose.

And now Vyn drove his Mercedes the way a lunatic would their car, ramming on the trash bins and fences and even some of the patches of roses from his beloved garden, all to escape from his husband. Because apparently, his dirty secret’s out, and Marius is out to get him (perhaps).

The car screeched as he took a sharp turn, finally out from their mansion. Was he a free man, now? Not exactly—Marius von Hagen suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, running. Vyn muttered under his breath. Goddammit. He took the shortcut. I forgot about the shortcut—

A bang sounded, and the next thing Vyn knew, there was a crack on the windshield. The car halted abruptly.

Vyn scrutinized the crack. A bullet.

“Did…” he mused—hissed, rather—as his eyes trailed to where Marius was knelt on the ground, slowly helping himself up. “Did this bastard just try to shoot me?”

Marius almost flinched when Vyn, just a meter or two from him, slammed his hands on the car horn repeatedly. If it wasn’t his pretty little husband Marius would’ve just shot the car until the tires go off and the driver dead; but then again it was Vyn inside that car, and—

And the windshield… has a crack. And I have a gun. And I…

Marius swallowed. And he must’ve accidentally pulled the trigger when he hopped out of the bushes from the sidewalk and tripped. And now Vyn thinks he tried to shoot him.

“Baby, accident.” Marius now stood in front of the car, and the sight of his husband—who looked angry as hell—could be seen clearly from his line of vision. He hoisted both arms, the way a cornered, guilty criminal would, and repeated his words gently, “Baby, accident. Accident.”

Marius gestured to his gun. “I tripped. Accident,” he shouted. Marius didn’t really give a damn anymore whether or not the neighbors would hear him. “Baby, accident—no, stop!”

Marius inhaled sharply as he heard the engine rev—and it revved loud, as if a warning, more than enough to tell Marius if he didn’t step out of the way at that very moment Vyn would drag him to death by way of a hit and run.

And he did not hesitate.

“No, stop! Wait!” Marius waved his arms frantically, almost throwing away his gun just so he could show Vyn he wouldn’t dare hurt him. However it was his mistake that he pondered it at all, because Vyn Richter was the pettiest man alive, petty enough to actually hit the gas and hurl the vehicle towards Marius.

Oh, shit. Is this my end?

The car steered forward, its speed almost inescapable (for anyone in Marius’ situation). Marius gathered all his weight and lunged at the car, and Vyn then piloted the steering wheel in a rapid pace, left and right, in an attempt to haul his husband—probably ex-husband soon—out of the car, but to no avail. “Get off my fucking car!” he yelled irritably. “Marius von Hagen!”

Marius even managed to smirk as he held onto the side of the car (for dear life). “Stop the car—” he shouted back, his face almost hitting the windshield. “Vilhelm von Hagen!”

“Fuck you.”

“When?”

“Saturday, if I have not killed you yet by then.”

“Sweet.” Marius took advantage of Vyn getting carried away by their banter—Vyn could only hiss out in frustration as Marius broke the passenger seat window with the handle of his gun. It didn’t take long before he was halfway inside the vehicle, and Vyn was fumbling with his seatbelt.

But Marius was a second too late. The moment he’d gotten inside entirely, Vyn had already thrown himself out of the vehicle, and the Mercedes, along with Marius, was heading straight to the dark woods.

“Fuck you,” Vyn spat, still lying on the asphalt, catching his breath. He had wounds and scratches all over his skin—so much for all his skin routines—but that did not matter at the time. He fished out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Good evening,” he greeted rather blandly. “Yes. Please fetch me, and bring something sweet. I need my sugar levels to spiral.”

Present times.

And so they are here, trying to shoot one another’s head. Marius had initially come to gather his hidden weapons, only to find them gone. Vyn must’ve found out. The psychiatrist, on the other hand, returned home and got his guns ready. Heck, Marius even considered the great possibility of his husband setting up traps within the house.

Now we can tell who loves who more.

Yeah. That would be me, Marius would say. I love this sick fuck more than he loves me.

He peeked at the stairs. Marius caught Vyn claiming the opposite wall as his barricade, swore to god heard his muse wince at what could’ve been new bruises. He chewed on his lower lip as he crouched and stalked along the hallway with confident precision—he moved the way shadows would devour the night, utterly soundless as he coursed towards their dining area, which was also a connecting room to their massive kitchen.

To Vyn’s kitchen, his mind noted, almost like an instinct. His beloved had always been the one to cook all their meals, bake mouthwatering desserts and mix their cocktails and most times they’d end up hot that Vyn would find himself bent over the counter with Marius railing him from behind. Sometimes atop that long table, where Marius would feast on his husband the way he would his favorite meal; in return, Vyn knelt on the carpet under the table and sucked Marius’ hard cock until he moaned and screamed his name and squirted his cum on Vyn’s crystalline smooth face.

Marius was never in the kitchen, that sacred place. Sacred to his husband, at least, but when he did go there, it was always to admire Vyn while he prepped their meals.

He let out a bitter chuckle as he entered the dimmed space. Good old days.

Marius scanned the room, one he was most familiar with, before he proceeded to check under the table and chairs, ran his hands along the wall, removed the exquisitely-framed portraits hanging on them as a precaution. He knew Vyn couldn’t have been here for long; he wouldn’t have ample enough time to set up his baits within the house, but just in case.

He’d learned well not to underestimate Vyn. Vyn Richter, of all people.

Keeping his steady stance, Marius trod towards the high archway that led to the kitchen hall. He moved with a spy’s practiced grace and quiet, walking about the area as he quickly drafted a plan in his head. It was safer here, he thought, for almost little to no lights were switched on, and none of them would dare, since the lights could only be opened with two claps or a snap. Even without Marius’ careful movements, Vyn won’t be able to locate him that quickly. Especially since their house was a goddamn mansion.

No, screw that. A goddamn castle. If Vyn had not declined his husband’s initial offer with regard to housing, their residence would have looked like Buckingham Palace, except it was in Stellis.

Well great. How nice would it be to reminisce while your husband’s lurking in the same house, trying to kill you? Marius blew a sigh through his nose, frustrated. Couldn’t this be resolved with yet another delftware imported from France—

Marius went cold. “Fuck.”

He went cold because somehow, he’d forgotten that he didn’t really own this kitchen. That even though he’d been here a lot of times to fuck his husband on that table and over that counter, he wasn’t there enough to fully know and memorize each tile, each wall, each delftware that perched on display. Because somehow, Marius had focused on the possible threats that he’d missed the most unsuspecting yet lethal ones: Vyn’s decorative collection of teacups and teapots and plates.

And perhaps the odds were not in his favor tonight, because Marius accidentally bumped into one, and the teapot—even though he had caught it with his hand at first—proceeded to take its fall and break itself into hundreds of tiny shards. Marius stilled, his blood thrumming in alarm.

At first, there was silence. The eerie kind.

And then rained a series of bullets from the dining room entrance.

“Fuck fuck fuck—”

Marius dived into floor, clutching his silencer. He crawled swiftly under the long table until he reached the archway to the kitchen. He stood on his feet and snatched his other pistol from its belt holster, scanning the kitchen—a fucking enormous kitchen—for efficient shields, weapons, or if the heavens somehow favored him again, a possible way out. An escape from his deranged husband.

He’s too beautiful for someone demented, though.

He heard footsteps. Slow and steady, its familiar, elegant cadence enough a warning for Marius to keep his guard, his guns hoisted and at the ready. In one stride, he took refuge beside the fridge, the opposite side of it facing the entrance.

And then there was a distant, honeyed voice. “You dare break my delftware.”

“You fired because of a fucking teapot?” Marius sneered, but cackled all the same. “You’re crazy.”

“Your fault for marrying me.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

Vyn pulled the trigger and fired, the bullet merely grazing past the fridge. A warning. “I gathered. Seeing how you are out almost every other night, only to a foolish spouse will that go unnoticed,” Vyn uttered, his voice laced with venom—bitterness. “Tell me, darling. How many ladies have you fucked while you were gone?”

Marius resisted the urge to step out of his hiding spot and confront his husband head-on. “Fucking stop it, Vyn. Are you serious? This again?” he complained, the grip around his silencer tightening in his simmering anger. “I never cheated on you, godammit. I told you—I was out for business. How many times do I have to drill that into your head?”

“Ah, yes. Business. And what exactly is your business, Marius?”

Marius chuckled. “I could ask you the same, baby,” he said in his smoothest, sweetest voice, then strode out from his refuge, aiming his silencer at Vyn. In those few, shared seconds of conversation he’d noted where his husband stood, where he was facing, the appliances which surrounded them—Vyn won’t be able to duck anywhere, and could not possibly sprint too fast to shield himself from Marius’ attack.

But then again—he shouldn’t have underestimated.

Because when he’d stepped out, Vyn was not there.

He was already behind him.

“Shit—”

He did the most possible, most horrible thing he could think of: as he swiveled round to Vyn’s direction, Marius hooked his fingers under the fridge’s recessed handle, pulled it open, then slammed its massive steal door against Vyn.

“Scheisse.” The fridge door rammed against him face-first—Vyn’s nose throbbed with a nasty pain, and he sensed hot liquid leaking from it, tasted the coppery tang of blood when it drifted further into his mouth. “Fucking. Swine.”

He knew the fridge door would be a serviceable shield, knew the bullets he’d fire would protect Marius no matter what and doing so would only be a disadvantage. However Vyn blasted back that instinct, that knowledge, and proceeded to rain yet another series of bullets towards Marius (or the fridge, actually), all because of sheer aggravation. How dare he slam that door into his face—was he not his muse, his darling? Was he not this ethereal man Marius had always drawn and sketched and painted on his canvases for he wished to preserve his beauty?

Goddammit—the curse looped inside Vyn’s head, his nose flaring with rage. His nose fucking hurt.

And Vyn screamed along his firing, both weapons aimed toward the fridge. The kitchen was dimmed, with no lights on and so all he could see were the blazing yellows and oranges and reds, could only hear the all-too-familiar bangs and booms as the shots blasted through the metal.

He stopped attacking. Vyn wept the blood from his face with the sleeve of his once immaculate, white coat, wincing as he did. His nose stung so much and it rendered him so very, very furious. “Marius von Hagen,” he said. Hissed.

A low chuckle. “Vilhelm von Hagen. Or would your surname be back to Richter now?”

And there was silence, utter silence, before Vyn’s life flashed before his eyes.

The psychiatrist could only slide back as the fridge—which was a whole lot bigger than him in all aspects possible, completely towering over him—started slanting from above and down to crush him. It was too swift that he could only clumsily stumble back, almost slipping on the tiles and making a fool out of himself.

Marius heard Vyn curse in a vague, foreign language—German, no, Svartian, probably—as he scurried to save himself and dodge his husband’s pretty little trick. Actually, screw that, Marius thought. Pushing this goddamn fridge might very well be his disadvantage: one, it was too heavy it took a lot of effort and energy, and two—the kitchen was a spacious room and he threw his only barricade away.

No matter. He will just have to remedy that, in whatever way he can.

Like taking advantage of his disoriented, recuperating rose by means of taking their electric stove and throwing it in Vyn’s direction.

He’d turned away before that stove hit his husband.

No. He didn’t want to see that.

Didn’t want to see his husband hurt.

He released a sharp breath and looked skyward, then blinked his eyes repeatedly, well-aware of the stinging tears threatening to flow. He ran to the exit all the same, his only goal to escape—he didn’t wish a violent shoot-out with his love, inside their home, no less, but he needed to return the act lest he got killed.

All this—the thought of killing Vyn would kill Marius just the same, anyway.

Heh. He didn’t seem to hesitate shooting me, was what roved in his mind as he made his quick escape. God. That hurt. That fucking hurts.

And he was now well on his way out, finally, with only a step before the archway when Marius peered over his shoulder—then regretted it shortly after.

A kitchen knife had grazed past his ear, the tip of its blade hitting the wall with a dull, slicing thud.

Marius stood there for a while, utterly shocked. Vyn hurled the blade too skillfully that blood trickled down his ear—only a slight brush with the knife, truly, and there was only a minor sting—and Marius recalled it again and again, the way that knife went past him so swiftly, almost like a soft winter’s breeze.

Maybe he deserved it. He’d broken not only Vyn’s delftware but his nose, too.

“Just to remind you, my darling.” Vyn stood steady far across him, his gun hanging by his side, his other arm still held forth after throwing the knife like a sports dart. He was bleeding, his nose and his arm, yet his poise was much like a prince’s, still, as if he hadn’t partaken in this chaos of an indoor shoot-out.

Oh and despite himself, Marius swooned when Vyn had addressed him darling.

“That you destroyed my fridge.” He leveled his gun, his aim at Marius’ direction. “And inside that fridge were all the pastries I had worked so hard for this goddamn week—more particularly that matcha cake.”

Ah, Marius thought, almost nodding unconsciously. I’m thoroughly fucked, then.

The psychiatrist fired another time, only once, but close enough to shoot off Marius’ ear.

Thoroughly, completely, perfectly fucked.

If that bullet blasted a few inches down Marius was sure he’d only have one serviceable ear left. Fuck it. Vyn’s aim was as good as his so thank the heavens the odds somehow favored him tonight because if they didn’t, his head would be pounding with a static burn at this very moment for he got his ear blown off to oblivion.

Marius sprinted. Not out, because the hallway was narrow and with how accurate Vyn’s aim is, he was certain he’d get shot at some point. So instead he darted to the side at lightspeed. “Goddammit, Vyn!” he shouted as Vyn fired constantly, following his every stride; thank goodness there were no kitchen lights and Vyn couldn’t see clearly even with those ugly glasses. “You’re really going to blow off my ear? How am I to hear your needy moans then?”

“You will not hear them again.”

“Not of pleasure,” said Marius as he slid behind the mid counter, hiding away from Vyn. He tugged open the small cabinet and swiftly made a slice on the gas hose before he slithered away like a madman and out to the archway. It would be nasty with that leaking gas and Vyn’s shotgun.

Wow, thank god we weren’t all into electric shit.

When Vyn fired, the kitchen exploded in flames.

Vyn threw himself back, and he crashed into the wooden floor, breaking his glasses in the process. Every part of him ached, and his head pounded; his vision was obscured without his glasses, the narrow hallway a distant horizon he was not sure he’d reach because he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—

His thighs burned, a hot, searing pain pulsating within his loins, and it was only then that he realized he was on fire. Like it was his second nature the doctor halted thrashing and crawled to the nearest open space, that area near the archway, and rolled himself across, exhausting the flames on his person.

He wouldn’t dare glance at his burns. He couldn’t stomach them for sure.

Not because they were gruesome, no, but because he cared greatly for his vanity, and now his efforts had been all in vain. So much for face and body value.

He snatched his gun, then, and hastened out of the burning kitchen and into the dining area.

Vyn didn’t mind the burn, the throbbing, the pain that wished to devour him. Not when his adrenaline was spiraling and begging to be put to fucking use. His instinct—an assassin’s or a husband’s, he couldn’t discern—led him out and around the lobby, up the stairs, to that one, distinctive chamber his husband treasured most.

The Atelier.

The memories rushed in with each step, every soundless stride. He’d designed that room with Marius, had decorated it day and night with him. Had baked cookies and delivered them there, so Marius would have something to eat as he worked on his new opuses; had stayed by his side as he recounted stories with his paint.

Had taken off his silken robe as he perched on the chaise, naked, looking so ethereal as Marius painted him, brought his beauty to canvas.

The reward? Marius had fucked him silly all through the night, on that very same couch.

Vyn took deep breaths. He acknowledged those memories, accepted them. Then locked them all away.

He hoisted his gun, and tiptoed close, closer. No signs told him Marius was inside, but Vyn steered forward, trusting his gut as it churned at his intuition—he is here. I do not know why, but I know he is here.

He ticked that box with a check.

As he entered the room a silencer shot, hitting just behind him. Marius stood by the opened windows, his weapon in hand; a thick cable wrapped around the atelier’s metal handle and it fell outside, down to Vyn’s precious garden. He was escaping.

“Heh.” Vyn aimed his gun at Marius, the smirk on his face menacing. “Planning for escape?”

Marius threw him an annoyed glance. “You put the house on a fucking lockdown.”

Vyn shrugged his shoulders. “You were able to open that window,” he said. “Whatever happened to the alarms?”

“Switched them off first.”

“And the window?” No one was supposed to open any part of the house when it is on lockdown.

“I know shit on this house that you don’t know of.”

“Ah. Well, that does not matter.” Vyn trod forward, careful. The weapons were still aimed at one another as he neared a small, circular table where Marius’ rarest pigments sat in glass bell jars. “What matters is… oh, look. These are your pigments.”

“Vyn.”

“Such rare pigments,” mused Vyn, eyeing the expensive, imported, rare set of paints atop the table.

Marius took a cautionary step forward. His hand reached towards his husband, the gesture as if attempting to halt whatever deranged thing Vyn framed out to do. “Vyn—”

“Imported from Italy, yes?” The older man trailed, his finger brushing against the glass. “Ah. And this one was from our Grand Tour—France, if I remember correctly. From Louvre.”

“Don’t shoot it.” Marius’ voice shook. “Don’t fucking shoot it.”

Vyn stopped. He chuckled—then looked up at Marius. “All right,” he said with an innocent smile, “I won’t.”

Then struck the table’s legs so it tumbled down, onto the floor, the special paints now mere, vibrant stains that tarnished the wooden tiles.

Vyn sneered at Marius. “Screw you.”

And proceeded to fire not to his husband, but everything inside the atelier: the canvases, both empty and brimming with colors, the vases and the chairs and stools, the portraits on the wall, the unfinished sketches and all the works in progress—the Seti Falls among other brilliant landscapes of their travels in Skadi, in and around Stellis, all the way to Europe.

Marius seethed, and one may even argue he was about to breathe out flames. “You fucking fiend—”

Vyn halted his advances when his aim pointed to an unfinished portrait of him.

Gods, he looked beautiful in it. Like the image of a prince, one of which a hopeful maiden would see only in the fairytales she reads, wondering if she’d ever snag a man as handsome as him. His lips were curved into a half-smile, all so lucious, and Vyn felt that familiar, rancid guilt tug at him—only a little, he wanted to deny it—as he wondered the many hours Marius had worked to capture him as beautifully as he could. Not that it was a hard task, for Vyn had always been a most spectacular muse, but still…

He lowered his gun and spared that portrait from his rage—saved himself from his own, unfettered violence.

But soon enough, Dr. Richter would realize that only portrait Vyn had been granted salvation.

Vyn nonchalantly aimed at his husband another time, did not hesitate, even a sliver, as he pulled the trigger toward Marius. But Marius dodged and rolled to his back, deftly until he tumbled against the wall under the window, and with a terrifyingly calm expression poised himself to kneel on the tiles.

Vyn reloaded his gun. “What are you doing, kneeling there?” he seethed. “Have you given up, darling?”

“No,” said Marius, a chuckle rumbling down his body. His amethyst eyes had darkened, and Vyn tensed, feeling gooseflesh all over his skin as Marius took something out of his person—a hand grenade.

“You know what,” the young von Hagen began, his voice low and cold, “I shouldn’t have tended your garden during the days you weren’t here.”

“You are to stop this instant.”

“What do you say? Fuck off and say adiós to your precious little garden.” It only took a split of a second as Marius pulled the pin with his mouth, and tossed it behind him, the grenade hurtling over his husband’s precious sanctuary of roses and lilies.

Only a split second before Vyn Richter’s garden exploded into a thousand, splendid fireworks.

And if it weren’t for his unmitigated, passionate fury thrumming with each breath, each step, and every thunder of his heart transcending over the harrowing, golden flames burning in the dead of night, of which singed the beloved flowers he’d tended to for years, Vyn would’ve fallen to his knees onto the wooden tiles, and cried his heart out in heavy grief.

But Vyn stood there, not moving an inch, as he watched the scorching fire. The flares flickered in his eyes, round and round the deepest trenches of those golden hues, until all he could see and feel was…

Well, nothing. As if unbothered.

However his mind, his brilliant mind toiled clearly—too vivid, the thoughts smooth-sailing in his ocean of schemes.

“Dieser verdammte Marius,” he muttered—that goddamn Marius—as he strode near the doorway, opened an emergency cabinet, and pulled the heavy, metal handle, activating the manor’s fire sprinklers.

Wet chemicals erupted from the ceilings, all over the house. Vyn navigated the halls and the rooms with precision, checking the bedroom, the lounge, the bar, in a search for a certain von Hagen.

He hoisted his gun as he trod to each chamber, each corridor. Vyn went down the stairs and proceeded, with much caution, to the main living room—

When a click sounded behind him.

“Let’s stop this now, Vyn,” Marius said quietly as he drew closer, his silencer only a meter or two away from his husband’s back.

“Unlock the house, and we can separate in peace—”

Vyn swung around, pivoting on his heel, and knocked Marius’ weapon out of his grasp.

Marius stumbled to the side, but maintained his balance almost as instantly. “What the—”

“You are naive to think that after all this, I would let you out.” Now it was his time to brandish his gun, leveling the weapon slowly to Marius, who now had both hands raised in surrender. He was on the farthest corner of the room, trapped; his only escape was the very path Vyn stood on, getting in his way out, deliberately so. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

“Your loving husband.”

Vyn’s brow raised, and his features scrunched into disdain. “I would not say that—”

He was cut off by Marius pouncing onto him with all his weight, Marius’ hands wrapped around his own, restricting him and the gun. And before Vyn could even try to get away Marius sent him to the ground—Marius had forcefully slid his leg against Vyn’s, and when his husband lost his balance, the two of them plunged into the floor.

At the impact, Vyn’s grip loosened, and Marius kicked the gun away from them as he helped himself up.

Oh, zounds. Why did I kick it away? I should’ve taken it—

A flower vase came hurtling toward him, and Marius shielded his face from the glass, letting it break into tiny shards as it fell to the floor. And his jaw might’ve been broken, too, for Vyn had suddenly appeared in front of him, and threw Marius the best jaw-breaking punch he had ever received.

“Fuck—”

It was painful, to be sure, but he had no time for such. He caught Vyn rushing to the doorway.

What’s he doing?

Marius’ face scrunched and he winced, the pain in his jaw utterly excruciating.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s going for the gun.

“No way in hell.”

Marius the nearest object he could find—a mini coffee table—and hurled it in Vyn’s direction.

He stood on his feet and sprinted to the doorway. The table had hit Vyn’s torso, the impact heavy on his waist, and he dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.

But before Marius could reach for the gun himself, Vyn held him by the leg.

He landed face-forward. His arms, thank goodness, saved him from rendering his handsome face wretched. Marius rolled onto his back, only for Vyn to lunge at him.

Vyn first threw a punch to his jaw yet again, but Marius caught his wrists. With a mighty force Marius was able to toss Vyn to the side—he was the stronger one, after all—and Vyn ended up with his back against the couch.

Vyn was still recuperating when Marius came to wrap his hands around Vyn’s neck, restricting his breathing. His hands went instinctively around Marius’, punching and pulling and desperate to get away. At last Vyn gathered enough strength to move away from the chaise and to the side, bringing Marius with him; Marius who, despite his strength, admitted to struggling with Vyn’s futile attempts to escape.

But the next thing Marius knew, he was throwing his husband across the room.

Vyn flew directly to the massive grandfather’s clock, the glass shattering and raining over him.

Blood now stained the doctor’s face, his body. But at that very minute he wouldn’t feel any wound, any injury. Just the unfaltering will to fight to death with his husband.

He felt betrayed.

He was scared. He was so scared he would lose him—to a woman, to PAX, to this. Add the five consecutive nights he’d prepared dinner for them and Marius never came home.

He’d rather end the marriage here than in court.

Marius dashed towards him, ready to pounce. Vyn caught sight of the expensive wine bottles on the table beside him.

And so he snatched two of the wine bottles and smashed them on either side of Marius’ head. The bottles crashed, and Marius bellowed in pain. Crimson leaked in his skin, his clothes—was it the wine? His blood? Vyn swallowed as took in the sight of his husband, hands on his head, moaning in deep pain; he looked away immediately and strode out from Marius’ reach.

Marius chuckled. “Of course you’ll go for the gun.”

“Do you not think it the easiest way out?” Vyn merely said, his voice higher, obviously vexed. Yet the way he spat those words was honeyed, still. “I shoot you, I win.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Marius staggered, but pressed onward. “Then you’re not getting that gun.”

In quick strides Marius threw himself at Vyn, but the older man rolled himself easily over the couch. Marius pushed the chaise to the side with one swift move, and only the oval glass-lined coffee table separated them.

Like that table’s gonna do shit.

And it all began with footwork. In his fighting stance, Marius assessed his husband, the two of them circling around the table slowly, vigilantly. Waiting for the other to hint at their weakness, to give away their hidden cards—neither knew the other’s tricks, having only found out their secret careers this evening.

But goddammit, Marius cursed inwardly as he observed his muse with that perfect sparring form, however his bearing elegant, still. The lock of his shoulders, the way his forearms were bent to his elbows, his knees curved just right; that determined face, his brimming confidence—goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.

Perfect.

He’s perfect.

I love him.

“Well fuck me. You always made me carry your heavy stuff, but now you look like you’re ready to carry me to my grave.”

Vyn smirked—then pushed the table with his foot.

The force was too strong that Marius knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it on his own, and that he’d only hurt whatever part of him that met the table’s edge. The table slid forward, launching straight at Marius, and all he could do was leap on top of the table.

It was small, that table. Marius lost his balance and fell face-forward to the marble tiles.

“Fuck it,” he groaned, his elbows stinging. “I fucking hate you—”

Vyn gripped his shoulder and swung him around, his back now on the floor. “Hello, my love,” he purred as he pinned both Marius’ hands atop his head, then straddled him. “Do you like this?”

Marius smirked. “You on top? Hell yeah.”

Vyn’s fist went flying to his face.

“FUCK—” Marius groaned, his nose stinging. He could almost taste the metallic tang of blood. “I can’t believe you ordered me to carry your shit around when you can punch this hard.”

“You betrayed me.” Vyn landed another punch. “You are a liar! You lied to me!”

“Look who’s fucking talking!”

“Go to hell.”

With his weakening grip on Marius, the young von Hagen was able to snatch his arms and finally turn the goddamn tables. He wrapped his legs around Vyn’s torso and flung themselves to the side.

Vyn gasped. Marius now sat on top of him, towering over him. His grip on Vyn’s wrists was too tight they could’ve been red with the mark of his fingers, or a nasty purple because of bruising—god, they could’ve been a pale blue for that grip might as well halt the blood from coursing through.

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Marius pinned his lover’s wrists on the floor. He noted the slightly frantic tussling, Vyn’s… sexy labored breathing. “I think I like this better,” he whispered. “Me on top of you.”

And Vyn could only gasp as Marius grappled his throat. Not to kill him—to weaken him, somehow. To make him lose consciousness. And then he’ll decide from there.

“Hck—” Vyn’s choking filled his ears and, even when he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. “M-Marius—”

Stop it. You’re hurting him.

His grip did not weaken.

“Hck… P-Please—”

Don’t say it. Don’t.

Say it. Vyn hurt you. You’re just returning the favor.

I can’t...

“Look at you. I love choking you like this,” Marius spat, his eyes dark and wicked. I’m going to hell for this—I’m sure of it. “If only this were a different circumstance.”

He caught Vyn’s arm flailing to his sides, and Marius wondered why he’d suddenly stopped grasping the hands that throttled him—until Vyn seized something and smashed it to his head, sending him backward.

A lampshade this time. From yet another small desk drawer just beside them.

Well, Marius thought. I should’ve seen that coming.

Vyn was, however, still frail from Marius’ attempt to strangle him. His breathing was strained, his face breaking out in cold sweat.

And hot tears rolled down his pale, bloodied cheeks.

However his adrenaline pumped again, and again, and even when his head pounded a fire burned from within, and he tried to go on all fours, a futile attempt to stand.

Marius now stood, albeit unsteadily due to the impact of the lampshade on his temple. “Come on, honey,” he managed to say despite himself, imitating a sparring stance, “come to daddy.”

Vyn inhaled a sharp breath.

He turned on his back, then, and used all his remaining strength to kick his husband’s groin.

“Fucking fiend—” Marius moaned in agony as he fell to his knees.

“Heh,” Vyn chuckled darkly. “Who’s your daddy now?”

“Ahahaha,” Marius managed a laugh. For some reason, it did not sound even the least sarcastic. In fact, it sounded so… genuine. “That’d still be me, Vyn,” he breathed, “still me.”

Then he rolled to the side, Vyn the other way around.

When they got up to their feet, nimble as men who were yet to be injured and beaten up, Vyn and Marius found themselves in a rather precarious situation:

Their guns on each other’s heads.

Blood coated their faces. Some trickled down, some already dried from earlier’s violence, the crimson-brown marking their skin as if pinpointing just where they had tried to inflict pain on one another. Desperate breaths filled the thrashed room, heaving in attempts to ease the thumping hearts, seemingly beating for something other than the desire to kill—perhaps beating for love, still.

The room had now quieted. No more crashing and shattering and heavy thuds brought about by relentless kicking and punching and hurling. The once catastrophic space was now but a peaceful one, at least in terms of sound and every other external force of nature.

“Let us end this here.”

Vyn’s tone never wavered. It was still as honeyed, elegant. But neither had the strength to actually ask, is that what you really want?

“Baby.”

“Stop,” he said, or rather breathed, as if Vyn had drained all capacity to speak, and Marius almost didn’t hear it, but he did. He always did. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Okay.” Marius nodded. His gaze remained fixated on Vyn, who so determinedly held out his gun, although Marius wondered why his finger was a little far off from the trigger. He took that as a good sign—something to hold onto. “So,” he began, his silencer still aimed towards his husband, “what now?”

I do not know, he had the urge to say. But he wouldn’t say it. Not in this life.

“Are we to stay like this the entire night, Vyn?”

“No, of course not.”

“Should I worry now?”

“As you should.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

Vyn’s eyes snapped to him, meeting those eyes of dark amethyst, and Vyn realized he hadn’t been looking at Marius this whole time, only to a random part of his face so it would seem like he was strong enough to take this head-on. But when their eyes met he felt his breath catch, and gods did Vyn want to whip everything back in time just so this didn’t happen. Just so he would have him back.

It is still him, he told himself. This youthful man, so willingly returning his gaze even though Vyn bore some brutal promise, always the man who could see him, who chooses to see through him and accepts what sought refuge beneath the facade—still Marius.

My Marius.

Vyn gasped, more loudly than he’d intended, when the silencer dropped to the floor.

His line of sight panned up to Marius. “What are you doing?” he hissed with unmistakable, rising fury. “Pick it up.”

Marius raised his arms, slowly, in surrender. “I don’t want to.”

“Pick up the gun.”

“I can’t.”

He inhaled sharply that the air could cut his throat, which was painfully drying, his heartbeat starting to race another time as he attempted to persuade him, “Pick it up, Marius! Pick the fucking gun—”

“No,” Marius said, shaking his head in regret.

“FIGHT. FAIR. THIS IS NOT FAIR.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Believe me.”

He was pleading, and Vyn knew that. Not pleading for his life, but pleading his love.

Until Vyn asked, “Why did you do it?”

His eyes lit up. It didn’t matter whether Vyn would accept his answer, he didn’t even care if he would believe him, but he was so damn happy Vyn was at least interested to know. And he deserved the truth—he ought to grant his husband that.

“I’m…” He breathed in, his line of sight entirely on the floor, trying to find the perfect explanation. “I don’t know. I guess I just love—”

“Killing other people?”

He looked up at Vyn. “Bloodlust—that’s it, yeah?”

Vyn scoffed. “Bloodlust. Are you kidding me?”

“I had killed someone for Giann. Accidentally,” he began, “an act of self-defense, to save myself and him. He was drugged and unconscious and we were alone, and we were kids.

“And I felt like a different person, you know? Stabbing that man to death. Torturing him until he begged that I end his suffering. Instead I got a blunt knife…” He trailed, his voice now dripping with that familiar longing, that familiar tone of satisfaction Vyn so knew about him, “started carving the family insignia deep into his skin while I listened to his pleas, his screaming, and watched the way his blood leaked from his cuts…

“It was, to say the least, a feast to my senses.” Marius chuckled, his voice dark, almost evil. As if Vyn’s kind, youthful husband had gone, had turned into someone unspeakable, someone he didn’t know. Or perhaps, a Marius he has yet to meet. “That was when I realized I let another me live within. He’s someone who loved drawing blood, someone who craved for violence. All of this, Vyn—I do it all for fun. I couldn’t get it out of my system. So, yeah.”

“You could have told me,” whispered Vyn. Marius wanted to believe he saw those golden irises soften, even only for a passing beat. “You could have trusted me.”

“I trust you, baby. But no,” he said resolutely, “I love you, so damn much, and I wanted to be perfect for you.”

Marius took a step forward. Vyn’s grasp tightened around the gun.

But Marius pressed forth. Arms falling heavy on either side he took yet another step, his mouth curving on a slight, sad smile as he walked closer, and closer, dangerously closer to the beautiful man who carried such a hideous promise.

“I want to be the perfect man…” Marius halted, just a few breaths away from the gun aimed directly at him. He crouched a little, leaned forward—

Vyn gasped. His whole body tremored, a sudden chill running all over his skin.

Marius wrapped his long fingers around the gun’s barrel, tugging it towards himself, pressing his chest against the hot muzzle. “The perfect husband for you.”

He observed as Vyn continued to nibble on his lower lip, biting it hard that it reddened with the threat of blood, and Marius’ chest tightened as he saw those golden hues now glossy with emerging tears. Vyn’s breathing had gone from composed to ragged, and soon the hand which held the gun started to shake.

“Vyn,” his husband called softly, “I love you, okay?”

He was surprised to feel hot tears filling his eyes, a stray of it rolling past his bloodied cheek. “Marius…”

“Vyn?”

“I…” he paused, grasping for words, suddenly losing all the vigor to fight. His heart shattered at this, at everything—at himself for being such a petty husband who never truly gave Marius the chance to prove himself, all because of some missed dinners. Who never gave Marius the benefit of the doubt even when Vyn saw in his eyes a flicker of hope.

He was so lost swimming in his ocean of thoughts that he never noticed Marius, who started easing away the gun ever so calmly, and Vyn—exhausted and drained out of his wits—allowed him his weapon to make its descent, down until he himself decided to drop it to the floor.

And he seemed to be in a daze indeed as Marius pressing closer to him went unnoticed, until Vyn realized, only after almost a minute, that Marius had gotten their bodies closer, almost skin to skin…

Marius knew he was quite awake now—from all his little reveries—and while he expected Vyn to land another blow or finish him once and for all, he was surprised when his husband’s gaze flitted from his lips before it settled up to his eyes, his pale, slender hands sliding to his chest as he whispered, “I love you too, Marius.”

Then Vyn was pushed onto the couch.

The doctor gasped, too surprised that it was a pitch higher than usual, and for a moment he was afraid that Marius had gotten the upper hand with his trick and now he ought to strangle him, but his gut believed otherwise, and his gut turned out to be right because Marius leaned down to kiss him—rough and wet, hungry as his tongue lapped in his mouth, a quiet sentiment of how Marius would rather kiss and touch and fuck him instead of sending blazing bullets all over their house.

“Mm—oh, Marius…” he whined as Marius pressed against him, almost straddling him, his hands relishing the softness of Vyn’s face and disregarding the feel of dried blood there, and now making their way towards the back of Vyn’s head, fingers brushing, tangling, pulling on those silver locks.

He felt his pants tighten at the sound of Vyn’s moans, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged his head back, suddenly feeling the lust of tasting Vyn’s exposed neck. Marius leaned down, his mouth pressed against his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along soft skin, tasting blood and hot sweat. He bit lightly at the hollow of his shoulder—

“Ah!” Vyn cried in perhaps both pleasure and pain, his fingers clutching desperately on Marius’ sleeves—sleeves that were rolled all the way up near his elbows and it was so sexy Vyn almost wanted to wave the white flag, in the middle of their shoot-out, just so he could fuck him. So he could kiss him, kneel in front of him, fulfilling his husbandly duty of sucking his cock. “Marius…”

“We literally just started,” Marius said as he looked up to meet Vyn’s eyes, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m about to.”

“Well why don’t you get on with it? Or would you rather waste my—oh, fuck—Marius!”

Vyn could only screw his eyes shut, and Marius could only let out a satisfied groan as he ground his hips against Vyn’s, biting his lip as he felt that hard erection, the proof of his husband’s growing need and oh, how he’d love to satisfy him. “What was that?”

“Will you ever stop talking—”

Marius shut him up with another kiss on the mouth. Vyn tasted sweet, as usual, however Marius made out the metallic flavor of blood, but it’s not like he would mind. It’s his husband’s blood, anyway, and he’d be most willing to take a sip of it, drink it, chug it until it sank down his throat the way he would his chocolate drink.

Ah, but Marius loved it more when it was Vyn who did that with his cum.

As he kissed Vyn he continued moving, grinding his hips until all he could hear were the melodies of Vyn’s whines and sighs, and gods was he so distracted Marius failed to notice Vyn already taking the matter into his own hands unbuttoning Marius’ shirt, and with fervent speed at that.

He suppressed a laugh as he bowed his head, watching in awe as Vyn fumbled with the buttons of his black shirt, breathing so hard and sensually as if he could wait no longer. In fact it felt like Vyn would be very much happy to just tear his shirt apart—not that his husband would mind, either.

“You were so determined to kill me earlier,” Marius said as Vyn unbuttoned the very last one, “but now you’re so hot and horny for me. I told you I did like your mood swings—hmph!”

He was cut off by Vyn’s mouth claiming his own—much to his delight—and soon he found himself hooking his arms under Vyn’s spine and the back of his legs, his feet then making way to their bedroom on the second floor. Vyn wrapped his arms around Marius’ neck instinctively, even pulling him closer as if he needed more, plenty more of him, and Marius loved the way his husband craved for his kisses that it must have given him some omniscient power to navigate the halls and the stairs in the dark so precisely.

In a minute a heavy thud reverberated, echoing across the massive bedroom as Marius opened the door—or rather twisted the knob then kicked the door—and went towards the bed with much haste. He’d licked, bitten, lapped at Vyn’s mouth one last time before he dropped him to the king-sized bed, covered in midnight-lacquered sheets, and proceeded to take off his shirt—

“Wait,” Vyn protested, but before his husband could respond he hooked his two fingers round the belt loop of Marius’ pants, and tugged him closer. It was so damn hot Marius’ cock twitched.

Suddenly he wanted to grab a fistful of Vyn’s hair and make him suck his dick. He’d fuck Vyn’s mouth so well with his hard cock the man would be a beautiful, crying mess the moment he swallowed his cum.

“I…” Vyn turned a little red. “I want to suck you.”

Marius swallowed as he hurried to comply, feeling a certain heat within him intensify. Vyn was already kneeling on the bed, making quick work unbuckling Marius’ belt and letting his cock spring free and fuck, Marius’ cock was heavy and warm and slick with precum, and Vyn felt his own twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He did not waste time. Vyn wrapped his long, slender fingers around his husband’s cock, feeling Marius throb against his palm, his cold fingers. He had sucked Marius dry since god knows when, but suddenly he felt like this was all new, that he was nervous and shy again, and it was as if he was taken back to their first night as two married men. That first night after Vyn said Yes, I do, I shall marry you, and Marius beamed and Vyn thought his husband could rival the sun. Funny what some husband quarrel and house violence could do to you—

“Just so you know, Vyn.” A low, impatient voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “I’m this close to shoving your face down my cock, if you don’t mind.”

Vyn bit his lip as he saw yet again that massive, hard cock staring right in front of him, waiting to be devoured. God, his husband’s cock was so beautiful, thick and velvety soft that his breath caught. And realizing once again that someone was getting impatient, Vyn leaned in and licked gently under the crown of Marius’ dick.

“Fuck.” Marius’ head dipped back, feeling his cock twitch against Vyn’s tongue. “Please—”

He rasped as Vyn complied, letting his mouth close around the head of his husband’s rock-hard cock—

“Fffuck,” Marius breathed, panting as Vyn made swirling motions with his tongue as he slid halfway down his length, “Fuck, Vyn!”

His eyes screwed shut, his hands clutching onto Vyn’s silver locks, and moaned out a broken cry as Vyn sucked his whole length, deep throating him, his wet, warm lips touching his Marius’ hot skin. “Fuck, Jesus.”

Vyn moaned around his cock, and as Marius felt it vibrate around him he dipped his head back again, seeing the goddamn stars. Vyn’s moaning didn’t stop even as he sucked his husband’s dick, Marius’ cock moving in and out of his mouth. Marius tasted so good. Every time Vyn sucked him it seemed he tasted even better and better, as if there were new flavours to his taste of clean sweat, of salty skin, and god even his precum seemed heavenly to Vyn’s tongue, melting like chocolate. His eyes fluttered shut as he sucked. God, he would suck this man’s cock forever.

Until Marius tugged Vyn’s head back, “Fuck, wait.” He panted heavily, and as he saw Vyn lick his lips—still glistening wet from his own saliva and Marius’ precum—Marius wanted to plug that pretty little mouth with his dick again. But he held himself together and said, “Wait. I’m… I was about to…”

“I’d swallow everything, Marius.”

“Fuck, stop it. Stop it or you’ll have to choke on my dick the rest of the evening.”

“What is the matter?”

Marius’ cheeks tinged a bit pink. He looked much like a teenager who wanted to try sex with his crush. “I want to… I—”

“Too good?” Vyn smirked.

“Fuck you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Marius caressed Vyn’s hair, as softly as he could. “I want to come inside you.”

Vyn swallowed, his mind once again drawn to their little memories of fucking every night until both their legs had given in, and Marius thought the same. God, he couldn’t stop staring at his husband. Vyn looked ethereal bathed in the bedroom’s soft orange glow…

However this time it was Marius who was stripped—so quickly—from his reveries as he was pulled, thrown to the bed, with Vyn taking off his shirt, leaving his necktie around. His shirt was hauled off to the floor in a second, and now Vyn looked like some fallen angel as he straddled Marius, untying the silken tie with deft fingers, his wet lips parted in awe…

“What are you gonna do with that, huh?” Marius’ hand slipped round his husband’s waist. We’ve been married for years but goddammit, your waist is so fucking small.

“You’re gonna use that on me?” he added, whispering against the shell of Vyn’s ear, making his husband shudder. God, he loved it when Vyn did that. Loved it when his ministrations, even the smallest ones, had a great effect on him. “And look at you, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion?”

“I—ah—”

His cock twitched again that it almost hurt, as if begging to be hilted inside Vyn’s ass. Vyn had the sexy habit of whining and making those kinds of sounds whenever he’s surprised or caught unawares, like that very moment when Marius stripped him off his vest with one go, the buttons clinking on the floor in unison. Marius didn’t waste a second and gripped the sleeves of his doctor’s coat, tugging it off him.

Until Vyn caught his wrists and said, “Let me.”

The muse started taking off his vest—slowly, tantalizingly. He knew all too well this act was a feast for his husband’s eyes, for his cock. The slutty bottom that he was, Vyn removed his clothing alongside his heavy, sexy breathing, his mouth slightly ajar, with some stray, silver strands falling over his eyes.

The vest went abandoned. Thrown to the floor just like all else. The shirt followed, Vyn making sure the sounds he made were heard, acknowledged—oh acknowledged indeed, what with his husband’s erection poking against his leg—and he couldn’t help but suppress a smile knowing Marius was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

When everything was unbuttoned, Vyn let the right sleeve slide down his arm, revealing some skin on his chest, his collarbone, his shoulder. Marius had seen it all, but still he thought he looked so ethereal, and so hot all the same that he was torn between treating him right—sweetly, gently—and fucking him so rough and so hard he won’t be able to walk the next day.

By instinct, Marius looked away. He bit his lip as he did, setting his sights away as he was suddenly so overwhelmed, so doubtful—do I even deserve this, he asked himself, realizing that it had been his fault why the shoot-out occurred in the first place: he missed a lot of dinners with Vyn. He was always out for his business of killing other people. He hurt him in all ways possible, especially tonight.

But then, “Marius.”

His gaze returned to Vyn. “Darling?”

“Do not look away.” Vyn’s hands, soft and cold, reached to caress his face. “Just look at me,” he said, his voice like that of an angel’s, “this is all yours—all of me. I am yours.”

Marius made sure that shirt was off his husband immediately.

He’d kissed him again, a mix of love and dominance, of lust and longing. Arms tight around Vyn’s waist he pulled his muse close to him, skin to skin, but he wanted them to be closer. He wanted to be inside him—to own him, body and soul.

He loved Vyn. Marius wouldn’t know who he is without him.

“I love you,” he grunted as Vyn ground against his erection, “I love you.” His hands wandered up his spine and down his ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from Vyn. “I love you.”

But it wasn’t long until Marius took his black, silken tie, staring intently, lustfully at Vyn before he hoisted it in between them, “May I?”

Vyn raised his wrists in answer. “And my tie?”

“For your eyes,” Marius said, his eyes darkening. “I was thinking your mouth, but I love hearing your noises.

“I love hearing your moans. Your whines. I love it when you scream my name.”

Marius licked his lips, and his chest swelled with triumph as he saw Vyn shiver again, turned on by a few words. Vyn gasped in surprise as Marius finished tying his wrists, pulling on the knot a bit harshly than he’d intended.

“Now,” Marius said as he worked on Vyn’s red tie, “you love the dark, don’t you darling?”

A whine escaped his lips as he was pushed to the bed. He couldn’t even recall how Marius looped and that red, silken tie around his eyes. All he knew now was he’s on the bed, on his back, his hands tied in front of him. “Ah, Marius…”

“What was that?”

Vyn could only nibble on his lower lip. “Please… oh!”

He moaned as he felt his husband’s mouth, warm and wet, close around his nipple. His toes curled at the sensation, especially at how Marius knew just how to kiss, lick, and suck his nipple and make him cry and moan so loud. His body moved frantically, the pleasure almost maddening now that his vision was obscured, and not knowing what Marius was gonna do next was killing him.

However soon he felt large hands grip his thighs, hoisting them, and Vyn most willingly submitted by wrapping his legs around Marius’ hips. He was now on top of him, could feel his hot, ragged breaths against his skin.

“You’re so hot,” Marius whispered as he kissed Vyn’s beauty mark, that one on his collarbone, “I just love fucking you so much,” he said, before unbuttoning Vyn’s pants and sliding his hand down under, wrapping his fingers around Vyn’s length.

“Oh! Marius, ah—”

“Yes, just like that…”

“Please!”

“You like that? Damn, you’re actually making this harder for me… let me just…”

Marius stopped, his hurrying hands fumbling on Vyn’s pants, in much haste to get inside him. Oh how badly he wanted to fuck his husband when he all but looked like a willing captive, writhing underneath him—he let his fingers travel down under, lingering on Vyn’s back, then trailing further south, massaging his arse, lifting Vyn a little in the process.

Marius did not waste any more time and took the head of his own cock, moving his hard-on closer until it rubbed softly, carefully over Vyn’s hole. He rasped as he did a little push inside. “Shit.”

“M-Marius…”

Marius took that as his signal to push further, letting out a small grunt as he moved another inch, then another, and he took satisfaction witnessing Vyn’s mouth parting as he whined, silver brows furrowed in pleasure. “Ohh, Marius—”

Marius gripped on his husband’s waist and hilted his entire cock inside him.

Vyn whined again, so loud Marius wondered if his voice reached the outside, even with their windows closed. Vyn cried as Marius moved inside him, his thick, warm cock fitting perfectly in his ass, hilting deeper and deeper with each thrust that Vyn couldn’t stop muttering curses and Marius, Marius didn’t have any words for it—just sounds, low and needy. Just grunts, and moans, and whines and cries.

Marius thrust again. Harder, deeper—

“Ohh, just like that!”

“Yeah?”

“Mm—ohh, f-faster please—!”

Marius nodded frantically, and he thought how much Vyn had an effect on him that, despite Vyn being the one tied up and writhing underneath him, Marius was actually the one in his mercy.

Good. Deservedly so. Vyn Richter was his Saving Grace and he’d worship the man forever.

“Ah—fuck! Marius…!” moaned the older man, biting his lip as he welcomed the familiar pain—and pleasure—down his nether part. It was only then Marius realized he had been too excited to claim Vyn that the thought of using a lubricant or even covering his dick with saliva never crossed his mind.

“Fuck, Vyn. Does it hurt?” he asked, but never stopped moving, pulling and pushing back in.

“N-no! It feels good. You feel good…” he moaned as he shook his head, “I’d rather you—ah!—fucked me hard.”

And it was enough to make Marius pin his husband’s hands atop his head, cursing as he thrust in, and out, so hard and so deep tears started rolling down Vyn’s pale cheeks. “Faster?”

“Y-yes!”

Marius gripped hard around Vyn’s wrists, railing the man as hard as he could, making Vyn cry with each powerful thrust. The sounds of wet, forceful squelching echoed across the room and, partnered with Vyn Richter’s needy moans, Marius thought damn, I should’ve brought a recorder.

Well, it’s not like he couldn’t do that soon. Pretty sure Vyn would be most willing to film all their blasphemous activities together. “I’m close.”

“M-me too…” Vyn bit his lip, his back arching in ecstasy brought about by their bodies, skin to skin. Marius pounded faster. It felt like fire, really, and he felt his stomach surging and ebbing and surging again and again with pleasure. They moved in sync now, Vyn’s hips thrusting to match his husband’s pace, and he knew he was close when he felt that electric sensation zipping through his veins, his loins, his cock. “M-Marius…!”

His balls drew up tight as Marius slammed into him, again and again. Vyn could only let out a broken cry as he sensed Marius’ hand grasping his cock, jerking it as fast and as hard, perfectly matched with the way Marius pumped his dick inside him in a relentless rhythm.

Vyn came. Loud, majestic, his hot cum spurting on Marius’ stomach and making a beautiful mess there, much like the way he was one. His head was fucking spinning and he thanked Marius for it. And he kept on crying out even as Marius came, his fresh seed filling Vyn up like he was always meant to.

He kept on going. Grinding in him so deep, so sensual, thrusting again and again and letting his very hard cock feel inside Vyn, helping both of them through the very last of their orgasms. Again, then again. One last time, until Vyn croaked weakly, and Marius grunted as he fell on the empty space on the bed, beside his husband.

Despite the exhaustion, he shifted to his side. Took the blindfold off his husband. Vyn’s eyes fluttered open immediately, albeit blearily, the fringe of his long, silver lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave Marius a weak smile. “That was…”

Marius let out a soft laugh, feeling the last bits of his energy dripping away. “I want to fuck you again.” He relaxed, but felt himself stiffen at the sight of his husband: ethereal. Beautiful with his cheeks flushed and mouth parted, his neck and chest gleaming in sweat. Vyn Richter, once again, in the afterglow of mindblowing sex.

“I love you,” he whispered, though he was not sure if Vyn heard. His eyes were already closed, and he looked like he was fast asleep. Marius smiled and snuggled close to him, with Vyn’s soft breathing lulling him to slumber.

Sometime around his dream, if he ever truly dreamed, he heard a silken voice say, “I love you, too.” Felt a gentle kiss on his forehead once, twice. Then another, “I will love you forever.”

When he awoke in the middle of the night, the quiet surrounding them, he saw Vyn was sound asleep. He rested his head against the hollow of Vyn’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent, and wrapped his arms around him. “Vyn,” he whispered, “I’ll love you forever, too,” before he kissed him on the cheek.

Somehow, Marius knew he hadn’t dreamt it.

Vyn awoke three hours earlier than usual, his eyes bleary, almost blind as he stared at the digital clock which blinked 5:58 AM. He wouldn’t be up this early, but his phone rang so alarmingly in the distance—atop that couch beside their bed where Marius fucked him the whole night—and with a ringtone he wouldn’t dare not pick up, lest he received yet another lecture. An hour or two of it, even if that lecture came from his, well… not his superior, because he was the superior.

He sighed—it was his junior calling. “Good morning, my rose.”

“DON’T ‘MY ROSE’ ME, RICHTER-VON HAGEN!” came his beloved junior’s rather sweet response, and Vyn instinctively pulled his phone away from his ear, unless he wanted his hearing damaged forever. “WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“Language, beloved.”

“VYN!” Ah, there it was. He knew she was suppressing those sobs. It was conspicuous she had been pulling back tears the moment Vyn answered the call, the moment she’d heard his voice and confirmed he was alive, although not much well. “I was so, so worried about you… I thought… I thought you were—” she paused to take a light sniff, “dead. The squad is on their way. What happened?”

“I… I cannot tell you right now. I am sorry, dear,” he said, his gaze drifting to his husband who was still snoring in his sleep, and gods did Vyn thought Marius looked ethereal even during his most vulnerable moments. He fucked me so well last night…

“And please, Rosa,” he said, “tell the squad to halt their mission. I am all right—harmed, but I am faring well. And so is my husband.”

“Oh, my god. Mr. von Hagen was a witness?”

“Sort of. I shall tell you all about it when we meet.”

“Which is when, exactly?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, his fingers running across the bare skin of his chest, wincing at the hurt from where Marius bit him. “You are in charge for now. Make certain the HQ is still up and about,” he said, “you are my second-in-command, so do what you must in my stead. Meet me tomorrow, same place.”

“Oh, uh—tomorrow, you said?”

“Yes. Is something the matter, dear?”

“Er, well…” she trailed, and Vyn’s brow arched in curiosity. He tried to rewind their past conversations, see if she’d mentioned anything she ought to accomplish tomorrow. There was nothing in particular, and Vyn was about to tell her twice until she cleared her throat and answered, “I actually… have a date tomorrow, Vyn.”

Ah. Understandable.

However, “I have taught you of the risks which comes along with our line of work. I hope you do keep your emotions out of your job—”

“What a hypocrite,” Marius muttered beside him. Was this idiot fake-sleeping the whole time?

“Never you mind. I am not against your relationships. I will meet you in two days, then,” Vyn continued—not without glaring at his husband first and foremost in the morning—and added, “but of course, what is this lucky lad’s name? Age, hair colour—”

“Luke Pearce, thirty years old. Coral eyes, chestnut blonde, and very cute.”

“Make certain you put up his records in the office. That aside—please enjoy your date, Rosa.”

Vyn pressed on the end button. He was thinking whether to check up on his husband or do a background check on Luke Pearce first, but he heard another phone call—this time from Marius’ phone—and even though he never truly meant to listen… well, however could he not?

“Hey, Luke?”

Vyn’s ears perked at the sound of his name. Luke.

“Yeah, sure. Wait, you can’t tomorrow?” Marius asked through the phone, his voice getting inaudible as he yawned, “oh, man. Congrats on bagging your first date—oh, wait a minute. Is this girl Rosa you’re going out with?”

“Who is that?” Vyn mouthed to him with those piercing golden eyes. My junior, his husband mouthed back, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like I can hide it anymore from you.

Well, Luke was not his junior since Luke was older by a few years, but Marius had been an assassin earlier than him. And, well… he was Luke’s boss.

Vyn didn’t need to do a background check. He’d have to pester Marius for it. Just great, what are the odds that their juniors were going on a date?

The first thing Marius did when he ended the phone call was tackle Vyn into a hug, which the older man reciprocated much lovingly (despite his grumpy morning face). He was still scowling, but it was a contrast to the warmth which he gave Marius in return, and the eagerness emanating from him as he pressed closer against Marius’ exposed chest. It wasn’t very soon that Vyn had started nuzzling his face against his husband’s cheeks, like a cat trying to be sweet.

“Vyn.”

“I thought you addressed me as darling or love or baby, but I suppose we—”

“Really, Vyn? This early in the morning?” Marius laughed as he cuddled him more. “You know, I was just gonna ask you something…”

“You want to fuck me again?”

And there it was, that familiar pout and puppy eyes, all too powerful even for Vyn that he knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to deny him. Well, it’s not like he’d decline some more good fucking. “Don’t you want me to?” Marius said, his pout much guilt-enducing now.

But not until Vyn pushed the sheets down until it reached his thighs, revealing his now bulging erection, his sudden craving for Marius. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

“Fuck. You sure know how to—”

Another phone call.

Vyn sighed and took the phone. His eyes widened, only for a fraction of a second, upon seeing the caller ID.

“Please tell me you’ll ignore that.”

“Unfortunately for us—” he slid a finger down the green button, “we cannot decline this one.

“Good morning, Captain Morgan.”

“This is Artem,” came that deep, familiar baritone, and Vyn felt himself shiver from the way Artem sounded in the mornings. The senior lawyer had always been a morning person, but there were times too wherein he was too lazy to get up for work—can you actually believe that?—so Vyn had to do all sorts of things to get him moving. His voice during those moments hadn’t changed at all: deep and husky, almost seductive.

“Artem,” he repeated, and the name seemed to capture Marius’ attention, too. “Good morning. Why are you calling this early in the morning? And why are you using Captain Morgan’s phone?”

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “Darius forgot to bring his phone,” he answered. “I called to let you know he’s coming, along with his squad. Too many noise complaints last night. They’re going to investigate.”

“Just so you know, Wing—my house is an estate. I am quite certain no one was bound to hear us…” Oh, shit. Marius threw a grenade in my garden.

He shot Marius a glare before he returned, “Tell Captain Morgan to go home.”

“I kept telling him that,” he replied, quite vexed now. “It was supposed to be our day off, Vyn. Our only day off, and you just had to ruin it.”

“It is not my fault you cannot persuade your boyfriend to stay in bed with you.”

“Are we—”

“Hello there, Artem.” Marius had snagged the phone away from Vyn, having felt that impending argument that would probably last hours—he wouldn’t admit that he was only jealous because Artem was Vyn’s only ex-boyfriend, almost husband—and had taken matters into his own hands. “We’ll meet Captain Morgan when he gets here, all right? I’ll tell him to go home, so let’s have peace, yeah? Bye!”

“I could have handled that, Marius,” Vyn spat, but not before Marius hopped out of bed and went to browse through his cabinet. He got himself a clean set of sleepwear in pastel green, Vyn’s most adored colour, and threw the shirt in Vyn’s direction. “Give me the pants as well.”

“No,” said Marius, already in the process of wearing it, “you take the shirt, I take the pants. It’s too long for you, anyway.”

Vyn crossed his legs, folded his arms. “What are you planning?”

“We’re gonna give ‘em a show.”

When Vyn opened the front door to their house, he was met with the rather hot welcome of flashing lights, towering video cameras, fully-dressed reporters and papparazzis in all black. He could make out the faint sirens coming from the police cars parked outside the estate, and he only hoped no one was able to round the bend leading to his recently-bombed garden.

“Vyn Richter, is it true there was a shoot-out here last night?”

“Vyn, did you have a quarrel with Mr. von Hagen?”

“Vyn, the people are curious—is divorce on the table yet?”

“Are you and Mr. von Hagen are going to be available in the marriage market again?”

“Vyn, rumors say that you and Mr. von Hagen are involved in matters of Mafia and secret services. Is that true?”

“Vyn, are you pregnant?”

His eyed widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“VYN!”

If he really ought to be true to his role of being a… babygirl who would pretend to be lightheaded or unwell after coming across crazy reporters with no sense of privacy, he would’ve done it after a few more moments or so. However Vyn truly was made unwell by said blinding lights and mad interviewers, and by instinct he pressed a palm against his temple and leaned against the doorframe, suddenly dizzy at the commotion. “Please…”

“Give him space, everyone. Move, move!”

Oh, dear. Thank goodness for Captain Morgan, he thought as Darius practically shoved the reporters out of the way as he reached for Vyn. A strong hand gripped him by the arm, enough to steady his slowly unstable body. “You okay, Richter?”

“von Hagen,” he corrected. “And not quite, Captain.”

“You can hold onto me,” he said, then faced the crowd of reporters again, “stop it with the cameras. If I see another shot I’ll have you all arrested—”

“You better listen to him.” Marius stepped beside Vyn, and in a heartbeat slipped his arm around his huband’s slender waist. Vyn felt his cheeks grow warm at the feeling of Marius’ hand holding him around the waist, in front of all these people—not to mention he was only wearing a green button top and Marius only in his pajamas. Thank god the cameras had stopped—courtesy by Darius who threatened an arrest—because those dark red hickeys and bite marks were clearer than the clearest of blue skies.

This man, Vyn thought as he leaned against Marius’ chest, he really likes to show off, doesn’t he?

He tried to hide a chuckle. It was true Marius loved to show off, but he loved it most when Marius showed him off for everyone to see, for everyone to know who owned him. At this moment, the message was pretty clear. Even the most senseless person would make sense what Marius wanted to say—that Vyn was his, and Marius was Vyn’s. It was written all over the young von Hagen: from the smirk on his lips, the red marks on his exposed chest. The top which covered Vyn’s probably hickey-filled body.

And so Vyn acted the part, pretending to be nauseous as he rested his head against his husband’s shoulder this time, and hooking his arm around Marius’. “I am not feeling very well…”

Marius squeezed his waist gently. “I’ll get you inside,” he said, and Vyn nodded faintly. Marius then turned to Captain Morgan, who was staring at them rather incredulously. It was conspicuous he never wanted to be here, to witness all this—he’d rather spend the day fucking Artem. “Sorry, Cap. I’ll give you a call and help you fix our mess. For now…” he paused and gestured to an exhausted Vyn, “my husband needs rest. You’ll handle this for now, yeah?”

Darius sighed, massaging his temples. “Yes. I’ll also let Artem know.”

“You better go home to him. He was pretty pissed with us this morning.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. von Hagen?”

“Ehh ~” Marius pouted, but before he could say another word Darius asked, “What am I going to report? There were a lot of noise complaints. Some said it sounded like a grenade.”

“The answer is right in front of you.” Marius winked. “You see, this is what happens when you’re away for work too long. You tend to really, really miss your husband…”

Darius wanted to roll his eyes—no, he wanted to punch Marius. Does this brat really expect me to write ‘very loud, earth-shattering sex’ as the reason for those noise complaints?

Whatever could he do, though? He couldn’t possibly deny the Marius von Hagen of all people. Besides, he was not anointed as the newest NXX member for him to report Marius and Vyn just like that. Fine—he was going to write that unreasonable reason.

Marius seemed to know Darius was not going to deny him, and so the captain was met with the von Hagen’s signature, youthful grin that seemed to say: Hehe, you can’t deny me, can you?

Darius eyed Vyn one more time. He didn’t seem as sick as he appeared, but Darius knew he was indeed exhausted. However he wondered, as he waved the couple goodbye and ordered the reporters and paparazzis to keep out lest they get arrested, how can Richter—er, von Hagen—be this radiant after that violent shoot-out?

The moment Marius closed the door, Vyn muttered:

“Tell Vincent to arrange you an appointment with me,” he said, almost half-moaned, “based on my findings last evening, you need psychiatric help.”

… This hypocrite!

#vyn richter #mo yi #tears of themis vyn #tears of themis #marius von hagen #tot artem #artem wing #darius morgan #rosa tears of themis #tears of themis luke #luke pearce #vynmarius #marivyn #vyn richter x marius von hagen #artem wing x darius morgan #lukerosa

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 7 months

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MIU. GET YOUR ASS IN HIGH GEAR. THE TOWER IS IN DANGER. DON'T ASK WHAT'S GOING ON, JUST MOVE IT.

That sounded like it came from outside...!

*Miu hurries down the stairs after watching Big Bang Monokuma land miles away from the Tower. She walks out to see Keebo, Taichi, Mona and Hikaru waiting for her.

Miu. We just got an SOS.

Yeah, and I just saw a giant fucking bear land a few miles away. I know. I already sent Mii-Yu to scout.

*She pulls up a monitor in the Tower control room to show surveillance outside.

Big Bang Monokuma. I never actually bore witness to it myself, but I heard stories after my recovery from the hospital. Do we really stand a chance against this thing?

Komaru Naegi and Toko Fukawa took down that ass by themselves, but who knows what kinda upgrades Zetsubou gave it.

*Keebo adjusts his antenna and speaks into his internal radio.

Emeleven! How long do we have until that thing is upon us!?

Mii-Yu: Judging from the speed it is moving, as well as the estimated weight of the body, my calculations dictate we have roughly T-600 seconds.

That'd be about 10 minutes.

That's nowhere near enough time!

That's PLENTY of time.

*Miu steps in the middle of the group and raises her voice.

Alright everyone, listen up! The enemy's come to us! We need to get as many men on the ground and as many defense mechanisms as we can online!

The Tower is the Future Foundations last line of defense against Zetsubou's base! If it falls here, we lose big time.

Yeah. The Future Foundation...Our FRIENDS are counting on us to save the day. But don't worry. I got a plan. But I'm gonna need as much help as I can get.

I don't know how effective I can be in a situation like this but...I'm with you, Ms Iruma.

Me too. Chihiro put me in charge of this place with his absence. I'm not gonna let him down.

Mii-Yu: BeeZero! We have a problem!

What is it?

Mii-Yu: The Big Bang Monokuma! It didn't come alone! Monokuma sentries descending down on you in T-1 second.

T-WHAT!?

*SMAASH!*

!!!??

GUAAAAGGGH!

PUHUHUHUHUHU AHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*BTCHOOO!*

BUAGGH!?

*A Monokuma suddenly comes crashing through the Tower's reinforced wall. Though initially curled up, it springs to life and lunges towards Taichi, only for Miu to whip an electric cannon out from her back and shoot it in the face, deactivating it and causing it to slide along the ground.

Alright...

*CLICK!*

*She cocks the weapon and reloads it as Mona hands additional weaponry to Taichi and Hikaru.

...Let's boogie...!

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the-ultimate-pie-family · 1 year

Text

Left 4 Dead season 2 reborn chapter 1, not again

"Little did the pie family know their realm is being infected once again the tree started dieing innocent ponies beginning killed and turning to much powerful infected till pinkie and the others woke up smelling death"

Blood: Kids downstairs now!!!

"They all teleported to the living room"

Day: dad wats going on? The smell of death is everywhere.....

B: Yeah, this isn't normal for our realm.....

Blood: Judging by the screams outside sounds like another zombie apocalypse

Midnight: then?!...... uncle ellis?!

Boomer: "she heard midnight yell as she wobbled to the castle"

"The boomer knocked on the door groaning"

Rave: oh fuck not the fat fuck....... "she flied to the highess window shooting a arrow at the boomer making explode" there we move out let go family

"Blood and the others started packing but blood knew their had to be a reason it's happening again but meanwhile DJ was fighting off infected at a random hotel for 4 days with his family M16 and in his last clip until two old friends showed up to lend him a helping hoof"

DJ: e-ellis?....... b-bill.....

Ellis: "he helped DJ up." Can u fight, brother?

Bill: we'll have to cut this reunion short lady's there's too many

DJ: clip me

"Bill thru DJ, an M16 clip as a charger was charging into ellis Bill and DJ smashing DJ into the ground, but the hunter was pursuing to pounce on ellis, then Bill and ellis started firing at the charger once it died bill got DJ up off the ground ellis was covering them"

Ellis: shit im out run!!!!!!

"Ellis grabbed some bricks and chucked them at the infected, but in the distance, they heard a tank or two, so they agreed to start running and regroup they reached the castle"

DJ: Blood open up the infected is back

Bill: "he pops some of the infected in the head with his revolver." Just bust down the door damnit we don't have time

Ellis: "he tackled DJ into the castle falling on the floor" blood?

Bill: "he ran in the castle, closing the door." Blood midnight miss pie

Pinkie: shhhh, down here hurry it's upstairs

"Bill ellis and DJ quietly walk to the basement door, but the tank heard a creek in the floor and started running, throwing a giant rock, ellis slid in the basement, then DJ jumped in the basement head first then bill hide behind the couch as it was too late"

Bill: shit "he saw rocks, so he threw some upstairs he heard the tank run back up so he quickly rolled in the basement*

Blood: brother u made it "he helped ellis up"

"Right after ellis got up midnight, tackled ellis ellis was winded"

Midnight: Uncle, ur alive b-but how? We saw u die?

Ellis: blood wats happening how r we alive?

Bill: i remember me dying by a hunter

DJ: i remember a white light, then i was back home?

Tank: "he crashed threw the basement roaring"

"Other special infected and normal infected started swarming the castle"

Pinkie: Quick the back way

Day: anywhere without that thing

"It was then the tank retreated but the pies were confused till a familiar screeching came from a distance"

Midnight: dad?.......

Blood: DJ day and ellis u three with me the rest run and don't look back we'll hold river off

"DJ ellis and day was shocked was they reloaded there guns and day was powering up to her exploding power"

Blood: ok, brothers, we need to give day time to power up, stay alive, and remember, risk everything

Ellis: it been an honor seeing everypony again

DJ: may we survive through thick and thin killing the ugliest, most badest infected ever

"Infected river jumped down in her normal form she then started running, screaming blood dj, and ellis stood there ground till river turned into a chargerbashing through them but missing day her primary target"

Day: Come on, guys, i about got hit

"Blood yelled attack, and blood disappeared while ellis and DJ fired their shot while not trying to hit blood river and blood were in a speed battle dodging attack and taking hits till river got shot in the head she dropped deader then a door nail"

DJ: boom

Blood: sick. "He stomped on a rivers skull, crushing it." Easy?

Ellis: It's too easy.......

Smoker: "coughs as he grabbed ellis with his tongue dragging him away"

Ellis: dah shit!!

"Infected river got up, throwing blood to a wall, turning into a jockey jumping on DJ head"

DJ: dah, get this bitch off my head

"Blood tackled infected river off DJ tell him to save ellis and day was almost fully powered up" DJ chopped off the smoker tongue as the smoker ran to hunt again"

Day: "Flame spark we're surrounding day as she was close to full power." Dad ellis DJ get close, and we got one shot

"Blood DJ and ellis ran to day while the infected were taking over their position then infected river turned into tank roaring charging for the four if them"

Blood: Day better hurry we can't hold them off for long

"Day exploded with all her power, but at that time, blood teleported all four of them out of the exit tunnel with the other, but then day collapsed from power lost"

Blood: day wake up red?!

Red: Over here, hurry

"Ellis and DJ carried day to red setting her down"

"They all heard a roar, but it was very faded, but red suggested they move now, but also explained to blood day was just tired and needs rest so they left their town once again looking for survivors and resources"

Tags @askdj-timelord2

Also i need a new title for chapter 2 I'll give some samples for chapter 2

#ponyville #mlp #the ultimate pie family #left 4 dead #season 2 reborn #chapter 1 not again #ellis #bill #zoey #louis #Francis #coach #Rochelle #nick #DJ #Spotify #spotify

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alternative-snake · 11 months

Text

been playing. extra planets + planet progression galacticraft and wow this is intensely Not Worth It like every fuckin step of this thing is designed to be a massive drag every time i have to go to the moon but nooooo i apparently have NEVER seen the moon in the sky i have never heard of the moon

[read more for a long and painful rant; part one.]

so i have to build a satellite white is like 32 or something solar panels which is a whole process of making cells which costs many diamonds. and then i have to get it into space which i have to get a whole rocket to do but thats ultimately nothing whats something is the thing that allows you to research the moon which takes 2 satellites to craft for no fucking reason. and then you get a scrap of paper than you stick in a telescope {cool block, takes 2 diamond blocks to craft though]

but you cant charge the telescope like a normal galacticraft machine you have to individually charge batteries and put them into the telescope. and one battery doesn't even research the whole thing it gives you 99%. so you have to put in another battery. which is one less battery to work with to research all these paper scraps you end up with.

anyway turns out i knew where the moon was all along but i did have to research everything else anyway.

anyway i get to the moon [read: he crashes, and reloads a backup of before the crash and gets there the second time.] rude. i get to the moon and thats all fine and cool. the ship needed to get to mars which is next in the galacticraft progression needs a lot of meteoric iron which at this point is only found as moon dungeon loot and in these tiny little rocks that randomly hit the moon. so i sit and find moon dungeons for like an hour or so not the worst overall by my standards i go to mars and its basically more of the same except the next ship tier requires desh and thats easier to get its just in the ground its fine but i also need more meteoric iron so i get to do that again. still fine, you get some enrichment along the way i guess and at least you can pull up something to listen to in the background.

and honestly the vanilla galacticraft stuff? isnt that much of an issue its just a matter of getting metals for the ships and grabbing meteors for a bit. you actually get a lot more meteors later in the asteroid belt. we're swimming in it now its great.

whats the real issue is the extra planets. so to start off we forgot to mention the space suit. you craft a basic thing out of aluminum and then prepare it with shit for radiation and pressure. the armor and radiation is fine nothing to discuss a bit of lead but thats fairly easy to get ahold of. the pressure layers take two oxygen concentrators.

if you are normal about things and lucky enough to be asking why this is a problem let me fucking tell you. In each concentrator is 4 compressed tin [two tin each, put in a compressor], 3 compressed steel [two iron each also compressed, then compressed again with two coal], {though maybe the tin and steel are swapped} a tin canister [7 tin makes two of them], and a vent thing [one compressed steel, three compressed tin]. you need 12 concentrator s if you want a full space suit [which is absolutely required]. do the math if you want, you also have to repeat this whole thing multiple times if you want to upgrade the suit; there are what 4? 5? tiers of space suit im pretty sure, we are currently on tier 3 not looking forward to when the fourth one becomes available.

that aside when you have a high enough rocket using the shit from the moon and mars and the asteroids {which we haven’t complained about as they're actually pretty interesting} you can go to mercury, which is. lets just reblog this with another wall of text to let this one breathe a little.

#i am likely typing more out as you read this #💥#⚙️#matt why did you get us into modded minecraft again

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singlepiner · 2 years

Text

Sound forge pro 10 reviews

SOUND FORGE PRO 10 REVIEWS PRO

SOUND FORGE PRO 10 REVIEWS SOFTWARE

I also noticed mono tracks are only played through one speaker which is not terribly ideal or expected.

SOUND FORGE PRO 10 REVIEWS PRO

Oddly, the same task works just fine in OS X running Sound Forge Pro 10 through Windows 7 from Parallels Desktop. I got a consistent crash on trying to play other files saved in the same manner even on reloading the entire app and file(s). wav, saved it as 44/16 and then Sound Forge would not play it, followed by multiple crashes. One issue I had was I brought in a 96/24. I have also read about the app crashing frequently, which I also experienced.

SOUND FORGE PRO 10 REVIEWS SOFTWARE

I have heard this app compared it to an Alpha version of software as opposed to release. The list of features missing from Pro MAC vs Pro 10 is quite extensive: no batch editing, no key command assigning, no crop ability, no surround output, no auto-regioning, no video support, and even a lack of editable toolbars. Be warned: Pro MAC requires OS X Lion or Mountain Lion, which may be a deal-breaker for some Snow Leopard holdouts. Also the Media Browser which by default is on the left side of the screen is cleaner and nicer than SF 10’s Explorer. While playing around with it I have access to all of my Audio Unit and VST 2’s, and there are little differences/improvements I have seen so far over SF 10 such as Fade-ins/Outs having their fade types right in the submenu is super cool (although having to go into a menu at all is tedious). It looks like an OS X application and seems to behave like one as well. (Windows version = $374.95 and OS X version = $269.95).Īll that said, this new MAC version does look pretty. Instead, Sound Forge Pro MAC has been touted by Sony Creative as “Built on a clean slate for OS X, Sound Forge™ Pro Mac provides a contemporary application environment that’s perfect for recording, editing, processing, and rendering broadcast-quality audio master files.” Sound Forge Pro MAC seems to be an entirely different application than Sound Forge Pro 10, which could explain the different version numbering conventions as well as different price-points. Many Sound Forge fans (including myself) were hoping this new Mac port would be Sound Forge Pro 10 with OS X style buttons. While there have been functional audio editors on OS X for a long time: Wave Editor (now Triumph), the ill-fated BIAS Peak, Adobe Audition and even Audacity but these don’t seem to have the name recognition and user-numbers that Sound Forge has held among all audio professionals. A long time standard of most Windows-using audio professionals, Sound Forge Pro has finally come to Apple OS X.

#Sound forge pro 10 reviews

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yourmcu · 4 years

Text

Mesmerized (iii)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 2,138

A/n: notes at the end

Warnings: crash, mentions of explosion, swearing, space mission, soft!nat, quill’s a jerk

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Your departure from Earth made its one-year mark.

Natasha hasn’t felt like herself since you left. She’s known you for a few months but it felt like ages, it felt like she knew everything about you from the amount of time you spent together.

It’s not like you had a choice. The guardians needed you and of course you’re gonna be there for them too. They saved your ass countless of time and, well, they’re your family.

“Shit!”

Natasha frowns, leaning forward a bit from her sitting position. “What’s wrong?”

You fail to respond back. You curse once more in realization that you had no more ammo left in your guns, using your fire conjuring abilities is risky in this situation too, given on what type of creatures you're fighting.

Rocket is still determined to fight but you know he’s not gonna make it alive so you pick him up and sprint to your ship.

“I had it under control!” The raccoon yells.

“You’re kidding, right? The others already left!” You boom, fiddling with the buttons and levers of the ship to try and start it. The rattling of the monsters behind getting you frazzled. “Fucking-”

“Out of the way before you burn the controls, I got it.”

You go to the back part of the ship to reload all your weapons. You sigh in relief when Rocket managed to start the ship.

The mission went horribly wrong. People died and you were outnumbered. You almost set Groot on fire because of how overwhelmed you were, the fact that Quill was expressing how pissed he was at you didn’t help. Usually the team had every mission handled and sorted. You weren’t used to losing.

And you forgot Natasha is still connected to the call.

She just listens further. It's more silent than earlier so she figured you got away from whatever happened, but she's ready to try and help whatever it takes even though she's a thousand miles away.

“Quill’s not responding,” you frown, frantically searching the back of the ship for the backup weapons. “He must’ve turned his comms off. Can you contact the other ship there?”

“No, offline,” Rocket mumbles, more focused on getting the ship moving. “But geez, you and him have to sort things out.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Save it, we’re still being followed!” Rocket swerves in attempt to knock off the creatures - who're still actively chasing the spaceship. They could fly, and there are a lot. You couldn’t imagine anything like it.

You try your best to fight them off through the spacious hatch on top, but of course you have no match for all of them. You wish Thor was here. As far as you knew he's sorting Asgard things out with Valkyrie.

Every minute just gets worse. The flight gets unstable the more those creatures are catching up, you're surprised they're so determined to destroy both of you.

“Can you go any faster?!”

“I can’t, can I?!” Rocket's driving and pressing multiple buttons for the jump at the same time.

“Y/N,” Natasha calls out, hoping you could still hear her. “I can tell the team if you need any help-”

On your end, she just got more blasters and guns going off, orders flying between you and the raccoon.

“We need to shake them off, this ship’s not gonna handle them,” You say exasperated. “I’m gonna cause a distraction, got it? You need to get us out of here - anywhere - I don’t care how many jumps it takes!”

Rocket, as rare as it is, displays concern in his face, but he sighs and grips on the levers. “Ready when you are.”

You suck in a breath, letting out a huge burst of what seems like fire and just - heat, aiming at the creatures closest to the ship. It gets nearly all of them. The raccoon mutters a quick countdown, watching you fall unconscious from the hatch in the corner of his eye. He pushes the lever forward slowly, jumping to the one place he knows the both of you could get help.

Earth.

As soon as you let yourself go, Natasha loses the connection. The intensity of you using your powers like that might’ve affected it.

“God,” she mutters, pacing around her table, “Friday, you still have contact on that ship?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” the A.I responds, and for a moment, a huge explosion sounded somewhere in the forest near the compound. “...and they just landed. Would you like me to send you the exact coordinates?”

Of course Natasha doesn’t waste time to go out and find you. Thankfully Steve is around and was shaken by the sudden explosion too. It’s snowing, the forest covered with thick snow so it wouldn’t be hard to find wherever the ship crashed.

“She’ll be alright, Nat. We’ll find her.” Steve reassures.

Natasha’s breath hitches at the sight of the aircraft completely destroyed, pieces everywhere, she wasted no time to find you under all the rubble.

The unconscious raccoon isn’t hard to find, but you had it worse considering you were already out before the crash.

“Steve,” she states, walking over scraps and metal to get to you. You're sickly pale, giving Natasha the feeling that she's too late but she did feel a slight pulse. There’s blood on the side of your forehead but other than that,

“She’s freezing,” and it isn’t from the snow alone, she thought. You're colder than that. Natasha has an arm around your back and behind your knees, getting ready to carry you. “Steve, we-”

“I’ll call Bruce to get them sorted out. Try and find their stuff that’s not destroyed.” His tone is firm. He doesn’t wait for a response, gently grabbing you from her and strides back to the compound.

Natasha sighs. Almost everything she sees is unrecognizable except for a few complicated looking guns that definitely looks like Rocket’s and your bag you took on one of your dates. Biting the inside of her cheek, she opens it, sighing in relief when everything inside looked in order.

She finds a wallet-sized picture of both of you at a fair's photo booth. You always held onto it and kept it in your pocket most of the time that's why it looks worn out, probably from you holding it so much. This makes Natasha's heart ache, deciding to keep it for the meantime, carrying all your stuff that's left to the compound.

- You wake with a start. You're facing the clean white ceiling of the Avengers' med bay and you tilt your head to the side to see Natasha sleeping on a stool beside your bed with her head lulling forward and her arms are crossed. As much as you feel relieved to see her, you're confused on how you got here, how she found you. You lift your arm to gently pat the redhead awake. She sighs and goes to rub her neck. "You're cold." You smile softly, cringing at the rasp of your voice. "Didn't want you to be sore from the way you were sleeping." "I'm glad you're awake." "How long was I out?" Natasha gets up to get you a glass of water while you sit up the bed. "Twelve hours. You definitely needed the rest, everything sounded really crazy up there," she says. "Rocket's somewhere around, he left his bed the moment he got up." She hands you the glass and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. Feeling how cold you still are since they found you in the forest, she grabs a remote to crank the heater up a bit. You purse your lips and cross your legs, looking at her. "How'd you find us?" "Let's just say we heard the impact of the crash from here," Natasha eyes the bandages on the side of your head for a moment. "It was really lucky your ship crashed nearby, but you know I wouldn't hesitate to get on the jet just to find you. And when I did, I... I thought you were-"

Your hand immediately goes to cup her cheek, the contrast of warm and cold making Natasha relax in your touch. "I'm here now. You saved me." She returns your smile and holds onto your hand on her cheek. "I missed you." "I missed you too." "You know, I did specifically set those coordinates," Rocket says as he enters the room with Tony. "Technically I saved us." Your smile only widens and Natasha chuckles, turning to Tony to see what he has to say about your condition. "You really wore yourself out there fireball, is she still freezing cold?" He asks this to Natasha specifically and she nods. You furrow your eyebrows and turn to your fists, clenching them, only noticing now that you are freezing. "I'm gonna run a simple test and if all goes as expected, Bruce is gonna give you a shot." "Have you already got a conclusion on what happened to me?" You question. Tony pulls out something from his pocket. "Sure have. Now set this on fire." He tosses you a solid crumpled paper. Holding it between three fingers you expect it to turn into ash in your palm, but it stayed the way it is. You're looking at it now to help focus on setting it on fire but it still stayed as normal paper. Natasha grips you on the arm. "I think that's enough." "You went all out with your powers. I did see you let out an overwhelming amount when we were trying to outrun those creatures before you passed out." Rocket states. "Naturally it'll come back, but the shot should help you with your... body temperature and hopefully the speed of recovery." Tony adds. You groan, back landing on the pillow behind you. Not only does losing your powers suck but you aren't a big fan of needles either, but you'll deal with them if you really have to. Natasha's hand slowly crawls up to intertwine with yours, although her attention was still on Tony. "She's gonna have to stay here at least until she recovers, right?" She also looks at Rocket if he has any objections but he merely nods his head. "'Course, they're welcome here for as long as they want." Tony claps his hands together and dismisses himself, Rocket following behind. "In the meantime I'll be figuring out a way to build a new ship." The raccoon says before closing the door behind him. Natasha makes her way to sit beside you and you automatically scooch to make space and rest your head against her shoulder, taking a breath. "You alright?" You shrug. "I guess I do feel pretty useless without those powers. I mean, Quill without a doubt would never let me go on missions anymore. I'd just be a burden to everyone." She lets go of your hand to put around you. "Everything doesn't revolve around your powers, Y/N. You're not useless. I bet you could take that Quill guy down in a fist fight." You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. "What's that guy like anyway?" The sudden question makes your head perk up. "Oh, you know, Quill, he's a nice guy-" Natasha let out a noise, cutting you off. "Didn't sound like it while I was connected in the call." "He can be a mouthful to me sometimes," you admit quietly. "Not to everyone though, I do generally think he's a nice guy. I have no idea what I did that made him so pissed at me." You look up at her and she's staring at the wall, seeming like she's deep in thought. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?" "God, no. He's not like that," you say. "If he did want to of course I wouldn't just take it." Natasha smiles, "that's my girl." You hung your head low so she couldn't see the way you flushed at the phrase, biting your lip to hold in a smile. “I’m glad you have my back, though.”

“I always do. Always will.”

"So, when can I leave this room?"

"After Bruce gives you the shot, then we can do whatever we want." She tilts your head up to move your hair out of your face. You look at her with an amused expression, "where do you plan on taking me this time?” Natasha smirks at the question. She loves spending all her time with you and the sight of you enjoying yourself makes it better. "There’s a new bookstore open, thought you might like it. Also an amusement park. It’s a few hours away but I can always drive. Oh, Tony’s cabin. I’m sure he’d love you to meet his newborn Morgan.”

“Sounds like you have a list,” you muse.

Natasha hums, pulling you closer. “I do.”

final one!! no one’s really looking forward to this but I enjoyed writing it anyway :)

btw wrote this way before thor: love and thunder so i have no idea what him and the guardians are up to but i wish them the best

[shameless plug] check out this natasha ambience i made some people thought it was cool

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buckysdolls · 4 years

Text

Saviour

My first Loki fic!!

Summary- AU- Loki survives Thanos’ snap and decides to stay on Earth to help defeat Thanos. During the final battle Loki comes to your rescue.

Warning- Mentions of Guns and Knives.

Though many of the team disliked Loki, which was a fair conclusion, you found him surprisingly funny and utterly charming from the first time you’d met him. You were mesmerized my his devilishly handsome good looks and impeccable one liners that would make you chuckle under your breath. He’d always appreciate your reaction and every time he was around on earth his endless teasing and flirting had you weak at the knees. Him being the God of Mischief totally enticed you, his adventures always sounded exciting and though you weren’t impressed with his attempts to take over the human race, multiple times… you were impressed with his decision to stay and fight, becoming an Avenger to save the earth. Having failed to kill Thanos before decapitating him, Thor had a breakdown and disappeared. Loki made the decision to stay with you and Nat at the compound to try and find a way to fix Thor and the mess Thanos had created. This wasn’t a hard decision for Loki, he wanted to be around you, he was utterly drawn to you and he’d known it from the moment he first saw you in the corner of a room trying to hide your snigger after he’d said something. He remembered your eyes meeting from across the room, he remembered how you coughed your chuckle away upon meeting his gaze and lowering your head feeling shy at his attention. You were able to teach him a few things as your relationship blossomed over time. A bit of humility and compassion but he never failed to provide his usual mischievous and sarcastic nature to any situation. Even though it took him almost five years to accept his feelings were more that just an attraction or a phase, you both enjoyed being a couple and having each other for company. You felt awful finding Loki considering the circumstances, as many people had lost their loved ones, but Loki would often tell you not to bother about other people’s thoughts and to enjoy the happiness.

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You and Loki both looked at each other from across the room, eyes wide puzzled with confusion as the God of Thunder strolled into the compound. This wasn’t the God of Thunder you had remembered; his hair was in knotty and tussled. His infamous abs were now a beer belly that hung over the belt of his trousers.

“Seems as though my brother really let himself go” Loki had made his way over to you and whispered in your ear. You tutted and rolled your eyes as you could hear the quiet snigger that escaped from his lips in your ear. Thor’s eyes landed on the pair of you, he was clearly tipsy as he stumbled over.

“Loki! Y/N!” Thor held his arms ready to engulf you in a big hug as you walked forwards to meet him. You face scrunched up as a foul smell filled your nostrils as Thor smothered you in a big hug, tossing you about in his arms.

“Y/N! It’s wonderful to see you. Stunning as usual!” Thor continued to hug you; his head now buried in the crook of your neck. You felt an arm snake around you waist and pulling you away from the hug. Though it was nice to see Thor you were so pleased to feel Loki pulling you into his side as his hand settled on you hips. You turned your head to see Loki giving Thor a death stare, he clearly didn’t appreciate Thor’s attempt to be charming towards you. Feeling the need to reassure Loki you leaned in planting a small kiss on his cheek letting your free hand settle on his right cheek. You watched as his face transformed to his smug smile he usually gave whenever he felt pleased with himself, you turned your head back to see Thor stood there, his mouth in an ‘O’ shape and his sunglasses tipped on the bridge of his nose.

“Ooooh… You two are a… thing now are you?” Thor expressed a look of shock wiggling his finger between you and Loki. You watched on as he downed the rest of his beer, his eyes peering from the side as his sight never left the pair of you. He threw the empty can on the floor and quicky burst into laughter.

“That’s great!” Thor’s pulled the pair of you into one of his welcoming hugs. You and Loki managed to steal a glance at each other as your faces were squished against the pecs of Thor slowly suffocating into his chubbiness. You could tell Loki was far from impressed, his lips straight and his eyes glaring into your soul in utter annoyane. You gave him a big sarcastic smile knowing it would annoy him. You mouthed to Loki ‘smile’ as you cuddled into Thor to tease him.

“I’m so pleased Y/N that Loki finally told you he loves you. He’d only go on and on about you when I would see him” Thor squished you both harder continuing to embrace you both. Finding Thor’s comment hilarious you met Loki’s eyes, raising, and wiggling your eyebrows as you thinned your lips inwards to hide your smile. Loki closed his eyes as he rolled them.

“Let go brother!”

Letting you both go Loki quicky walked away with a huff as you and Thor exchanged side glances both finding Loki’s reaction hilarious.

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“I could really use some help over here” You yelled out over the communication system as the oncoming Outriders ganging up on you was becoming overwhelming. A soon as you’d shoot one more of them would appear not leaving you enough time to either reload or pull out your knives. You found yourself circled by them and being pushed to the ground, these monsters looked ghastly and drooled everywhere making you gag.

“I got you darling”

You recognised Loki’s sweet voice, oddly sounding sadistic as he was clearly enjoying the rush of brutally slaughtering a bunch of aliens. You saw multiple knives being skilfully thrown slashing through the Outriders as they fell dead, crushing you.

“These things are gross!” You called out in disgust before seeing Loki standing before you kicking the Outriders off you. You couldn’t help but notice how wonderfully handsome he looked, towering above you. He wore his signature smirk, with his pearly white teeth flashing, his striking blue eyes graced yours.

“You still look compelling to me darling” Loki smirked as he reached his hand out to you. You bit your lip, letting the corner of your lips turn up into a smile as you reached your feet. You and Loki stared deeply into each other’s eyes, completely forgetting you were in the middle of a world-ending battle. Loki threw a few knives at oncoming Outriders never letting his gaze leave yours, he expertly would catch them without looking. You couldn’t take the suspense of looking into his eyes anymore, your lust to jump on Loki was too much. You immediately took to your tiptoe and crashed your lips on to his, he didn’t resist he only pulled you closer to him so he could feel you against him. You felt the bulge from under Loki’s robes throb making you moan into the kiss. Letting his lips fit into yours, his tongue swiped and bit at your bottom lip to allow him in. He smacked his hands to your face clutching onto your cheeks, your hair wrapped in between his fingers as the kiss deepened becoming quicker and harder. You found your hands dancing in his hair pulling on strands as the kiss became needier and intense. A flash of lightening waved past you causing you both to break away breathlessly, your heads leaning on one another to look out the corner of your eyes to see the flash of lightning hit a heard of Outriders that were heading for you and Loki. You both looked to the other side of you to see Thor stood there, he wore a huge grin having just witnessed you and Loki.

“You have time to flirt later brother.” Thor walked past you both as Stormbreaker flew back into his hand. Thor winked with a quick smirk before Loki nodded at Thor as a sigh of respect before watching him fly off. You and Loki turned back-to-back to fend off many more Outriders, skilfully swapping between each other’s knives and guns. Your heavy breathing and adrenaline slowed down as the chaos around you dwindled, the sound of guns popping, and the shouting had gone. Thanos’ team was disappearing in front of you just as your team had done five years ago. The fight was over. Yours and Loki’s backs bumped into each other quickly turning around to meet each other.

“That was hot” Loki expressed cocking his head to the side with a grin.

“You found fighting a bunch of alien doggos hot?” You furrowed your eyebrows whilst trying to catch your breath, thinking how fucked up was Loki really?

“Not that Y/N. The kiss?”

“Ooooo” You nodded your head slowly letting a smile creep on your lips as you thought about it.

“Yeah that was pretty hot!” You sniggered allowing you body to flop into Loki, him catching you in his arms. Your body pressed into him for a comforting hug, he could tell how tired you were, so he stroked your hair tenderly to soothe you. You hummed noises insinuating you were enjoying the touch of Loki’s affections as his hug consumed you. Loki felt calm as he felt your arms wrap around his waist, bringing him down from the hype of the fight. Though he would find it hard to express… he was thankful to know you survived the battle and would be able to stand by his side forever.

#loki #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki oneshot #tom hiddleston #the avengers #marvel universe #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #avengers endgame #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson fanfiction

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Book of the Dead

Genre: The Mummy AU

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: After traveling to the fabled city of Hamunaptra, you read from the Book of the Dead and accidentally resurrect an ancient mummy with extraordinary powers and quest for revenge. The only thing to do now is try and convince your less-than-traditional guide to help you save the world.

Part 1 I Part 2

You ran up the smooth stone steps as quickly as your night dress would allow. If only you had had the time to change into something a bit more practical. Unfortunately, the immortal, god-like mummy that was currently lighting the city of Cairo up with the ten plagues of Egypt was exactly willing to pause for you to put on a different outfit.

“Run this by me one more time?” Baekhyun huffed a few stairs behind.

Rolling your eyes, you said again, “We’re going to read the stone with the inscription of the location of the book of the living. Once I translate its location, we’ll head back to Hamunaptra, retrieve it, and send Mr. Bones back to the underworld.”

“You really need to work on the nicknames,” Junmyeon grumbled as he placed a hand on your lower back to urge you upwards at a faster pace.

“Sorry that my sarcastic wit doesn’t work best under pressure.”

“Trust me, it hasn’t been working with or without the pressure.”

You shot the soldier a dirty look, which only led to you tripping over your own feet. Junmyeon caught you before your knees could meet the edge of the last step. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth, whether to say thank you or to release another sharp remark, you weren’t sure. Those stupid brown eyes were scrambling the thought pathways in your brain. But thankfully, one thing was able to connect and bring back your focus.

“The stone!”

A large black stone taller than you and wider than your forearm sat to the right of the staircase, a block of polished wood at the base keeping it upright and away from the wall. You ripped out of Junmyeon’s grasp and scrambled for the stone. Your eyes scanned the hieroglyphics. A few feet away, Baekhyun was half bent over in an effort to regulate his breathing.

“Can you do that a little quieter?” you gritted between your teeth as your fingers slid over the etched surface of the stone.

“It wasn’t that many stairs,” Sehun said.

“Sorry, not all of us are as athletic as the muscled up soldiers over here.” Baekhyun hooked a thumb towards Junmyeon, who was hardly paying attention as he stared out the open balcony. Baekhyun and Sehun joined him, the former then gulped. “You might want to hurry up over there.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you sang.

“Not right now it isn’t,” Junmyeon mumbled grimly.

That was when you heard it.

Hundreds of voices chanting in unison.

“Imhotep. Imhotep. Imhotep. Imhotep.” Over and over in monotone sounds, growing closer and louder.

Oh, shit.

“I hate to agree, but yes, faster would be better,” Professor Bey urged.

His power was growing. Fast. You buckled down, translating the pictures into the ancient language and then again into your own tongue.

“They’ve become his slaves,” Ardeth said with more morbidness than you previously thought possible.

“A side effect of the boils and sores, I’m sure,” Baekhyun said, not helping. Another plague down. The final one, if your counting was correct.

Block them out. You needed to block all of them out. “Alright, so according to the Bembridge scholars, the gold book of Amun-Ra is located in the statue of Anubis.”

“But we found the black book there instead,” said one of the Americans.

Baekhyun moved to your side. “So, they were wrong?”

“Obviously.” Arrogant men who thought you didn’t have enough experience to join their society. “They mixed up where they were buried. So if that was where the black book was located….”

A crash. The front doors of the museum must have been breached.

“I got it! The golden book is located inside the statue of Horus!” You slapped the rock with your hand in victory. “Take that, Bembridge bastards!”

“Alright then, let’s run!” Baekhyun took your hand and hurried you down the hall while the others stayed close at your heels. Down the stairs and through a back corridor, you were able to make it to the car while avoiding the mind controlled citizens. Safety be damned, you all piled on one another into the topless car as Baekhyun turned over the engine and gunned it. Hordes of the poor men chasing you poured out of the doors of the museum and managed to keep up with the four wheeled vehicle that now raced through the dirt streets in the dark. Junmyeon remained on the trunk of the car, reloading his gun and punching anyone who was able to get close enough.

“Those are innocent people!” you yelled over all the noise.

“Yeah, well, right now, it’s us or them!” Junmyeon kicked one off but lost his balance in the meantime. He nearly fell into the crowd before you were able to grab his arm and yank him down. “Thanks,” he muttered mere inches from your face before clearing his throat and righting himself. On his other side, Sehun was fighting along with Ardeth to keep you all from being overrun. Imhotep must have been able to give the controlled men advanced abilities. An unfortunate event.

But right when you thought that you might be able to get away, several men climbed onto one of the Americans and they all fell from the car, lost in the crowd. Without thinking, the other yelled and then jumped after his friend. And then he was gone, too.

“Crap.”

“Rest in peace, old chaps,” Baekhyun murmured, looking over his shoulder. And then crashed the car.

“Baekhyun!” you shouted angrily. Junmyeon hoisted you out of the car, not wasting a moment, but the six of you were trapped. The mind controlled men were coming at you from all three streets. You were blocked in against one of the walls of the city.

“It's the creature,” Professor Bey whispered. You frowned, unable to see past the ones that surrounded the group. Then you saw him.

Imhotep.

“He’s fully regenerated.”

Not a single spec of mummified skin remained. He’d gotten to the Americans.

Stepping closer as the crowd pushed in, he started speaking in the ancient language, lapdog Beni right behind.

“Come with me, my princess,” Beni translated with a false sense of superiority. “It is time to make you mine. Forever.”

You scoffed. “For all eternity. Idiot.”

Imhotep spoke again, this time with his hand outstretched.

“Take my hand and I shall spare your friends.”

You looked around for any chance of escape. There was none. “Just wonderful.” You turned to Junmyeon, who was slowly putting himself between you and the mummy. “Any good ideas?”

His face was twisted and his eyes darted from left to right. “I’m thinking. I’m thinking.”

“Good. Keep thinking and think of something fast. Because if he turns me into a mummy, you’re the first one I’m coming after.”

Junmyeon’s eyes snapped to you, wide with shock. “No!” But you were out of arm’s reach before he could stop you. He pulled a gun and pointed it at Imhotep, ready to fire. Sehun and Ardeth both managed to stop him.

“He has to take me to Hamunaptra,” you explained. “In order to perform the ritual.” With your eyes, you tried to add in the rest. Follow us there, get the book, and I’ll read it.

“She’s got a point,” Sehun said. “If we live today, we can fight tomorrow.”

Junmyeon hesitated, then lowered his gun. You held his gaze, trying to let him know silently what you were feeling in this moment. That you were glad to have met him. And you wished the two of you had more time.

“We’ll see each other again,” he promised.

With an arm around your shoulders, Imhotep led you away. The sound of Junmyeon saying your name reached your ears and you almost ran back to him.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Baekhyun yelled. Running up next to you, Beni tossed the octagonal key to the books in the air. Well, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Gripping your arm tighter, Imhotep gave out one final order. “Kill them all!”

“No!” You fought and kicked and tugged to get away. “Let go of me! Junmyeon! Baekhyun!” It was no use. As you looked back behind you, all you could see was the crowd closing in on them.

You traveled for what felt like hours in the sandstorm of Imhotep. When you were finally deposited onto the sand, rolling in it from the momentum and getting it everywhere, you managed to open your eyes and see where he had decided to stop. You were right outside of the city of the dead. You were back.

A loud buzzing noise caught your attention. Looking up into the sky, you saw an old fashioned pedal plane carrying more people than it was built for. You smile. “Mr. Kim.”

After walking a few paces ahead, Imhotep raised his arms and called up a sandstorm so large, it blocked out the sky. Forming into a face, it ruched at the tiny plane. And then the storm swallowed it whole.

“No!”

The sandstorm dissipated and the plane was no longer visible. Imhotep smirked then walked towards the city. You had no choice but to follow.

You were going to die.

That didn’t stop you from following the mummy down into the depths of the temple, your glare switching from Imhotep’s back to Beni, who walked beside you.

“Your face will stay like that,” Beni warned. How childish.

“And nasty little boys like yourself always get their comeuppance,” you shot back.

Beni stopped in his tracks. “They do?”

You smirked. How stupid. You did believe that he would get his own form of punishment for helping the ancient priest - you just hoped that it was sooner rather than later.

Down in the main chamber of the temple, a loud noise stopped Imhotep mid chant. Taking one of the sacred jars, he emptied the ash-like substance into his hand and then blew on it, letting the particles drift through the air. Then he spoke out a spell and mummified bodies ripped themselves free from their walled-in prisons, leaving behind deep human-shaped impressions among the hieroglyphics.

“Kill them and wake the others,” Imhotep ordered. Turning back to you and Beni, he nodded at the latter, who then forced you down onto the stone slab next to a pit that at first you thought was water, but the liquid was too thick and too black, like ink. You were too focused on the substance to notice Imhotep’s hand coming near your face. He spoke a single word and your vision went black.

It could have only been a minute that you were out, but it was enough time for your wrists and ankles to be tied down and the sacred jars to be lined up against your side. Seeing a strange lump out of the corner of your left eye, you turned.

Then screamed.

The mummified body of who could only have been Anck-Su-Namun was lying right next to you, ready to be revived. You fought and tugged at your restraints, desperate to get away, to put distance between you and the woman who killed the pharaoh. One by one, the resurrected priests circled the slab, fell to their knees, and began chanting as they bowed. Imhotep stepped up, the black book in his hands. He caressed the side of the mummy’s face lovingly. Despite the reality of the situation, a small part of you couldn’t help but be in awe of his devotion. All of this, for his love.

That didn’t mean you wanted to help.

“Junmyeon! Baekhyun! Sehun!” One of them. Any of them! Please, just let one of them get in here with the book!

From the pit, the inky substance rose, formless, shapeless as it drifted through the air, over you and settled into the body. Imhotep finished the enchantment and the mummy came to life with a shrieking gasp. It turned and looked at you with knowing eyes. The scream of pure terror was ripped from your throat.

No, no, no, no!

Appearing on the other side of you, Imhotep said one last time that with your death, Anck-Su-Namun would live. He raised a dagger with both hands and let it hover over your heart for just a beat.

“I found the book of Amun-Ra! I found it, cousin!”

Standing at the top of the large stone staircase, Baekhyun waved a giant book of gold over his head, the proudest grin shining from his face, visible even from this distance.

Imhotep hesitated, lowering the dagger.

“Fantastic, now shut up and help me off of here!” you shouted back. “You have to open the book! Open it!”

Like in a trance, Imhotep walked around the slab, placing the dagger down next to Anck-Su-Namun, and continued towards the stairs.

“I can’t open it! It needs the key!”

“His robes!” You motioned towards Imhotep with your head. “It’s in his robes!”

With Imhotep coming closer, Baekhyun took off down the hallway that had led him here. Out of the shadows the opposite way, Junmyeon jumped out, swinging a large golden sword at the priests. Sehun wasn’t far behind with a sword of his own. Toegher, the two of them cut the mummies into pieces. With everyone distracted, you worked at the ropes around your wrists that had loosened in your many struggles, freeing the right one first and then moving onto your ankles. Only the left wrist was left to be freed, but this one was choosing to be difficult.

“Are you alright?” Junmyeon asked as he took down another priest.

“For the most part,” you answered, jangling your hand. Junmyeon lifted the sword to cut it free but suddenly fell from view. The upper bodies of the priests had grabbed hold of him and were holding him down so another could get close enough to drop the giant rock it was carrying onto his head. “Junmyeon!”

Junmyeon struggled to reach the sword he had dropped. Sehun was too busy with his own fight to notice his cousin needed help. You tried for the weapon yourself but it was too far out of reach. A disembodied hand was crawling with its fingers across the floor. When it wrapped its palm around the hilt of the sword, Junmyeon managed to grab the arm and swing at the mummy holding the stone, taking its legs out from under it. It fell backwards, squishing itself comically. He took care of the others and freed himself. He cut the bindings from your wrist and helped you off the slab. “Better late than never, right?”

“We’ll reevaluate that later.”

Baekhyun emerged from a side corridor. Oh, thank goodness. As if he were reading the Sunday paper, he studied the front of the book. “Cousin, I found an inscription here. Rash- Rasheem oola… kashka!”

A pair of doors burst open and out marched mummified soldiers with shields and spears.

“Oh, wonderful.” At least you weren’t the only one who mucked up by reading out loud.

Two by two, they came out until there were ten now facing you, Junmyeon, and Sehun.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Sehun muttered angrily.

“Baekhyun, do something,” you begged.

“Me?” Baekhyun squeaked as he backed up against a pillar.

“Yes, you! You raised them! You can control them!”

“You’re joking, right?”

The soldiers marched on, coming in closer. You weren’t armed and you doubted Junmyeon and Sehun could hold all of them off. “Finish the inscription on the cover, you idiot!”

“Oh! Right!” Baekhyun scrambled to hide behind the pillar.

Focused on the enemy in front of you, the one that had just been resurrected had been left forgotten.

Anck-Su-Namun snatched you away from behind just as the mummified soldiers pounced. You managed to get out of her grip and were now playing a rather unfun game of tag while she chased you with the ceremonial dagger, keen on killing you herself so she could be fully revived.

“Baekhyun, hurry up, please!”

“I can’t figure out this last symbol!”

“What does it look like!” You ran around the pillars and figures, lucky that you still had all of your ligaments to move quickly with. But Anck-Su-Namun had caught on and cut you off from around a corner, clutching your neck as you fought to keep the dagger away from your heart.

“Its… its, uh… a bird!” Baekhyun started flapping an arm in a wing-like motion. “No! A stork!”

You pushed the air past your throat to give him the answer. “Ahmenophus!”

“Ah! That makes sense!” He read over the sentence again before yelling, “Hootash im ahmenophus!”

With a kick to her brittle rips, you managed to break free from Anck-Su-Namun right as the mummy soldiers froze. Right on time, too, as it seemed both Junmyeon and Sehun were about to be impaled. You ran to Baekhyuun and ripped the book out of his hands. “Give that to me!” Turning back to the one who had tried to kill you, you said, “Fa-kooshka, Anck-Su-Namum!”

The soldiers didn’t move as Anck-Su-Namun stalked closer.

“Oh, fine!” You motioned for Baekhyun, who very smugly repeated the order. The soldiers backed off Junmyeon and Sehun, going for their new prey as Imhotep tried to stop them with his own shouting. It didn’t work. He watched in horror as, for the second time, his love was taken from him. All you saw was the soldiers surrounding her, then stabbing. She shrieked in pain and then was once again… silent

Imhotep roared in anger. He swept up sand as he turned on you and Baekhyun, vowing death to you both. Junmyeon ran up from behind and cut off one of his arms, getting his attention instead. The robes slipped from Imhotep’s body as he picked up the severed arm and reattached it, stepping determinedly in Junmyeon’s direction.

The robes.

The key!

You hurried forward, eyes never leaving Imhotep in case he remembered what he had left behind. It took a moment of searching the folds of black, tattered fabric, but eventually you found the key. “Keep him busy!” you told Junmyeon.

“Yeah, no problem,” was grunted back to you.

Inserting the key, you twisted it three times until the claws clicked open. You flipped through the heavy slabs, eyes constantly on the search for the right inscription. There was so much here. So much knowledge, so much history, you were getting distracted.

Save Junmyeon! You told yourself. Stay focused and save Junmyeon!

“Hurry!” Baekhyun urged.

You growled back, “You’re not helping!”

Imhotep now had Junmyeon by the throat, feet off the ground and face turning purple. You were running out of time!

There! “I have it! Kadeesh mal! Kadeesh mal! Pared oos! Pared oos!”

A wind from nowhere kicked up through the air. From the top of the staircase, a ghostly horse-drawn carriage came sailing in, down the stairs and straight for him.

Horrified and knowing exactly what was headed his way, Imhotep dropped Junmyeon and tried to run. But the carriage was faster.

It barreled through him, taking with it a translucent outline of himself, rounding the room before trotting back up the staircase and through the purplish wormhole that it had come from. Imhotep chased after it as if he could steal what was stolen from him back. But that was impossible.

Junmyeon picked up his dropped sword and scrambled to you, weapon high for the next round of the fight. “I thought you said that would kill him.”

Imhotep stomped forward, eyes fixed on your group. So focused on his target that he never saw Sehun come in from behind and stab his own sword through Imhotep’s back.

You smirked. “He’s mortal now.”

He stared down at the blade that was protruding from his stomach. Staggering, his eyes were round from shock, little by little the light of life fading. His feet shuffled closer to the pit’s edge until he finally fell in and sunk beneath the surface. As he faded from view, his skin disintegrated until he was back in the form that you first found him. Words echoed around as he gave one last message. Handing the book back to Baekhyun, you translated it for the others.

“Death… is only the beginning.”

“Thank god that’s over,” Baekhyun sighed.

You squeezed his shoulder, thankful to whomever that he was alive. That you all were. “We should get out of here.”

“Where’s Beni?” Sehun asked as he surveyed the room. Oh, right. You’d nearly forgotten about him.

“Probably halfway back to Cairo with a bag full of gold,” Junmyeon said bitterly.

Then, suddenly, the walls began to tremble, sand fell in falls from the ceiling

“Time to go!” Junmyeon grabbed your hand and headed for the exit. Baekhyun, who was leading in front, slipped on a pile of sand as he crossed one of the bridges. You watched in horror as the book flew from his hands and into the water, sinking beyond retrieval.

“You lost the book! How could you lose the book!”

“Oh, come on!” All three yelled at you. Nothing could be done. The Book of Amun-Ra was lost. You’d cry about it later.

Navigating the halls, sand and walls were falling all around you, seeking to trap you in. Junmyeon led the group through a giant room filled with gold. Baekhyun whimpered at all the treasure he was able to take with him, but at least he kept running.

“Wait for me! Wait for me!”

As you left the hall of gold, you turned to see Beni running after you. The ceiling above was slowly lowering. If he didn’t pick it up, he’d be trapped forever. A small opening barely big enough for a human was starting to sink beneath the floor. Baekhyun made it through. Sehun made it through. You made it through.

Junmyeon came in last, sliding across the sand and then flipping over, his hand reaching out towards Beni, who was still a good ten or fifteen feet away. “Come on, come on, come on!” Hate him or not, Junmyeon would try to help. But Beni didn’t make it and the opening disappeared. Junmyeon sighed. Then shrugged. “Bye-bye, Beni.”

He jumped up to his feet and rejoined the group.

Finally outside, the columns and temples were also falling, causing you all to zig-zag all around the city as it crumbled to the ground. The sand beneath your feet shook. You made it out of the city’s boundary. When you were far enough out of the blast zone, you stopped and watched as what was once a great archeological find sink into the sand, never to be seen again.

Baekhyun screamed out of nowhere. You panicked, thinking Imhotep wasn’t truly dead. But then you saw the shadow. And then the camel. And then the man riding it.

“Ardeth!” You were so happy to see him alive! You had been so worried about getting out yourself, you hadn’t been able to ask the others what had happened to him.

“Thank you for that heart attack,” Baekhyun scolded as he rubbed his chest. He would be fine. If the wine and women hadn’t killed him yet, you were sure he would live through this.

Ardeth bowed his head. “From me and my people, you have earned our respect and gratitude.”

Baekhyun chuckled, waving it off with false modesty. “Well… it was nothing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sehun muttered as he spat dirt from his mouth.

Ardeth grinned then clicked his tongue to urge the camel on.

Shaking his head, Baekhyun turned back to the flat surface that used to be Hamunaptra. “Wonderful. We go home empty-handed. Again.”

Junmyeon looked down at you and with the softest expression, disagreed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks as his meaning sunk in. Sehun understood as well, rolling his eyes and turning away. Cupping your jaw with his fingers, Junmyeon leaned in and kissed you deeply, pulling you in closer.

Yes, he was right. You were truly walking away with the adventure of a lifetime.

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jayjaymorgan · 3 years

Text

Shattered Past - Part V

Author’s Note : Please remember that English isn't my native language, so there might be some mistakes and stuff. I hope you all like it, have a great day/night!

TW : bar fight, description of violence, animal deaths, Rex curses like once

The Empire didn’t make any new barriers and control outpost, so the trip to Vanqor was calm and with no delay. They landed on schedule and were able to met with Hondo before noon to discuss the payment and unload the cargo. The pirate thanked them for their help and invited them to join him at one of the bars, on his treat.

At first Hunter was against it, mainly because of Omega, but after some convincing and reminders that Omega is already an adult he agreed, although he made his brothers promise that they won’t get wasted and don’t start any drunken fights. The bar was crowded and loud, so it took them a moment to make their way towards the bar counter. Omega took off her helmet and sat down on one of the chairs, but the rest waited with showing their faces. Hunter looked around, making sure that they’re safe. He spotted someone in the very far corner of the room, someone who didn’t look like they were a part of Hondo’s gang. They were sitting alone, a mask covered their face and they appeared to be cleaning a hunter knife. They were wearing a gray scavenger’s outfit, but with armor and many unique features, like a small axe and a machete on their back. “Who’s that?” he asked the pirate quietly. “We don’t really know. They showed up a couple of days ago, didn’t say anything and never showed their face.” Hondo didn’t even look up from his drink. “They’re harmless, unless you piss them off.” The clone was just about to ask what happens when you do that, but just then he heard a loud crash and screams behind him. He turned around and saw Omega hitting one of the pirates in the face, knocking him out. It took him a moment to realize what’s happening : the said pirate tried to grab her by the waist and wouldn’t leave her alone, so she knocked him out cold and upset some of his friends. They got up and started advancing towards her, but before they could get closer Wrecker stepped in and pushed one of them away. This really angered the rest and just a few seconds later there was a pandemonium. Crosshair jumped on the counter and started throwing bottles at the crowd while Wrecker grabbed a table and swung it around, knocking the pirates to the ground. Tech hid behind Cross, trying to not get involved in the fight as much as possible and just watched his brother score another headshot. Omega just stood by the wall, looking at the chaos she accidentally created. Hunter didn’t even know what to say : he just observed as his brothers wrecked the place while Hondo took another swig from a bottle, completely ignoring the havoc. Rex staggered back when one of the pirates slammed his fist into his shoulder. He punched the attacker in the gut and pushed him to the ground. He turned around at the sound of footsteps and a body slammed into him. He hit a table with thundering crash and groaned in pain, but quickly got up and kicked the man in his face, breaking his nose and knocking him out. Then, all of the sudden, he heard a gun reload behind him. He turned around, heart beating fast, and saw one of the gang’s members aiming at him. Just before he pulled the trigger a person appeared from nowhere, grabbed his hand and pushed it down, making him shoot the ground instead of the clone. It took Rex a second to realize that the person defending him was the masked individual Hunter asked about earlier. They punched the pirate in the throat with their elbow, snatched the gun from his hand and hit him with it in the head before turning to Rex. He stared at them for a moment, not knowing what to do, but then another pirate jumped forward and hit the masked person on the side of their head, shattering one of the goggles’ lenses. They grunted and stumbled back, it was now Rex’s time to help them. He tried to run up to them and help them, but someone grabbed him from behind and held him back. Another pirate stepped out from the crowd, holding a hunter knife in his hand, ready to stab the clone. At that very moment there was a loud humming sound and a blue light illuminated the room, making everyone turn around to where it was coming from. The masked person was standing there, holding a blue lightsaber and glancing at the people around them angrily. The pirate holding Rex let him go, stumbling back and trying to put as much distance as possible between him and them. It was dead silent, you could hear a pin drop. Finally, after what felt like eternity, the individual slowly made their way through the room, the lightsaber still ignited. The pirates scattered, gasping and whispering in fear as they walked by, reaching the door. They looked back one last time, scanning the room, before walking out and slamming the door behind them, leaving everyone in a daze. Rex was one of the first people to come to his senses. He quickly ran up to his brothers and sister, checking if everyone was okay and proposing that they get out of there before the gang’s members collect themselves. They agreed and quickly exited the bar, looking around cautiously. Rex saw his savior in the distance, walking out from the small town and heading south.

And then, a wild idea came to his mind.

…

“They’re a Jedi, they might know something.” said Rex, trying to convince his brother to let him go and investigate. “Please, you don’t have to go with me, I just want to know if...” “Absolutely no, I forbid it!” Hunter wasn’t hearing any of it, he just continued walking towards the Stalker. “It’s too dangerous. First of all : they could be someone who killed a Jedi and kept the lightsaber or simply bought it at the black market...” “The blade wasn’t black! If a non-force user wields it, the blade turns black. The one at the bar was blue.” “Even if they are or were a Jedi, it doesn’t make them less dangerous.” “Please!” Rex insisted. “You would do the same if you were in my shoes...” “I’m trying to do what’s the best for the team!” “Hunter, let him go.” Omega said, walking up to them, Crosshair following her. “Like he said, you would do the same in a situation like this, so please let him go.” “I agree with Omega on that one.” Crosshair added before Hunter could say anything. “I can go with him, make sure that he doesn’t get killed or something. And even if you say no we can just ignore it.” “Fine!” the man finally gave in. “But if something bad happens, you two will have only yourselves to blame.” “Great, we’ll take the speeder bikes.”

Less than a minute later both of the men were heading in the direction where they saw the mysterious person go. The bikes’ engines roared as they drove past scattered shipwrecks, bigger rocks and canyons. “Thank, Cross.” said Rex through the radio in his helmet, glancing at his brother. “Don’t mention it. And keep your eyes on the road.” Rex felt a smile creep on his lips, then looked back at the road. Even though Cross acted like a dick most of the time he knew that deep down his vod was a big softie. He would never say it out loud of course, mainly because he didn’t want to get murdered in his sleep. The sniper was bad at talking about emotions, so he spoke through simple actions such as making sure that his brothers didn’t skip meals and drank enough water. “There!” Crosshair called out, pointing at something ahead of them. He could see a trail of smoke in the sky, probably from a campfire. “Let’s check it out.” They drove down a rocky slope, carefully maneuvering the bikes around obstacles. They saw a small camp, which consisted of a tent, a campfire and an old but sturdy-looking Y-wing. The person from the bar was sitting near the fire, minding their own business. At the sound of approaching vehicles they jumped to their feet, turned around and took out the lightsaber, igniting it. The clones braked with a skid a couple of meters away from them, slowly got off the bikes and glanced at each other, not really knowing what to do. “Let me handle this.” Rex whispered through the radio. “Go ahead, it was your idea after all.” “Alright, here goes nothing...” he took a step forward, raising his hands slightly, showing the masked individual that he’s not armed. “We mean no harm!” he said, taking another step towards them. “We just want to ask you a couple of questions, that’s all.” He reached up to take off his helmet, but before he could do that they suddenly charged at him, the blade cutting through the air with a loud humming noise. “Watch out!” Crosshair took out his sniper rifle, preparing to shoot the attacker. Rex jumped back, tripped on a rock and fell on the ground. The blade missed him by mere centimeters, blinding him for a moment. When his eyes recovered from the bright flash he got up, reaching for his own weapon. He gripped his gun tightly and spun around, but what he saw made him stop in his tracks. The Jedi wasn’t attacking them – they were fighting with a gundark, who tried to snuck behind the clones and attack them. It roared in pain as they cut off one of its arms, making it stumble back. Rex saw another one in the corner of his eye, so he reloaded his gun and shot the creature in the head, ending its life. “Cross, get down!” he screamed as a third one emerged from behind a big pile of rocks and started running towards the sniper. His brother listened and ducked, giving Rex enough space to shoot. He aimed and pulled the trigger, but at this very moment the gun’s mechanism jammed. The weapon fired with a delay that couldn’t last more than a second and instead of hitting the gundark’s head it only grazed its side. The carnivore growled and changed its target, now running at Rex and baring its teeth. The clone pulled the trigger once again, but this time the gun didn’t fire at all. “Shit!” he yelled and hit the gun with the palm of his hand, trying to fix it. The second one was back at the ship in Tech’s lab, he promised to fix it but probably forgot to do so and give it back to him. Crosshair, seeing that his brother is in danger, jumped to his feet and fired at the creature, hitting its side. It slowed the gundark, but didn’t stop it. The beast leapt at him, tackling the clone to the ground. The force knocked the air out of his lungs, for a moment he saw stars. He grabbed the carnivore by its throat before it could bite into his, gathered all his strength and tried to push it away. He saw Crosshair running in his direction, the sniper couldn’t risk shooting his brother by accident, but he wouldn’t make it on time. Rex wasn’t strong enough to push the gundark away, which was getting closer and closer to his neck. The clone was ready to accept his fate when all of the sudden a blue light flashed before his eyes. A few seconds later the decapitated head of the beast fell on the ground next to Rex, its dead eyes staring at him. He grunted in pain when the rest of the body dropped on him with all its weight, making it difficult to breathe. The masked person turned off their lightsaber and pushed the gundark with their foot, shoving it off of Rex. When the man sat up they extended their arm, wanting to help him get up. For a moment Rex stared at their hand, unsure of what to do. He slowly reached out and took their hand, surprised by how strong and cold it was. They pulled him up to his feet and made eye contact with him before turning away. It gave the clone an opportunity to take a closer look at their eye through the shattered visor of their goggles. They had beautiful blue eyes that reminded him of someone very dear to him. The person he thought of had the same breathtaking eyes that looked like the sky during a sunny day. After a moment he realized that he was staring. He quickly looked away and let go of their hand, embarrassed. “Thanks... for saving me.” he said, then glanced at Crosshair, who was checking if there were any gundarks left. “We came here to ask you a few questions, we saw you at the bar and I thought...” “Look out!” Rex looked up and saw another beast charging at them but it was too late to jump out of its way. They were knocked to the ground, hard. The clone hit his head on a rock and heard the visor in his helmet break. The glass cut his forehead, he hissed in pain when blood started dripping down his face, making it hard to see. He got up and looked around, spotting the Jedi. They were trying to hit the animal with their lightsaber, but it was moving too fast. It grabbed them with one of its four arms and tossed them away, making them drop the weapon. They hit the ground with so much force that Rex could swear he heard a bone snap followed by a scream of pain. The gundark was now slowly advancing towards them, ready to pounce. They tried to crawl away from the carnivore on their back while clutching their left side, but they couldn’t. Just when the gundark jumped there was a loud beeping noise that sounded like an extremely angry droid. A gray R2 unit, that looked to be made of several others’ droids’ parts, emerged from behind the ship, sparkling electricity at the creature. It was enough to get its attention and draw it away from the masked person, giving them the opportunity to collect themselves and get up, but it was a matter of time before the carnivore lost interest and started attacking them once again. Rex grabbed the dropped lightsaber, but Crosshair was faster. He reloaded his sniper : it was time to finish it. He aimed and fired, hitting the creature in the heart. It roared and fell to the ground, almost crushing the droid. It let out a series of annoyed beeps and quickly approached the Jedi, like it was checking if they were alright. Rex breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at the weapon he was holding, ready to return it to the owner.

But the moment he looked at the lightsaber a little bit closer, he realized something.

He knew that hilt.

It was Anakin’s.

#Shattered Past #My writing #rexwalker #The Clone Wars

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lala-ladybug · 3 years

Text

Healing Hands: Chapter 2

I promise I’m not this fast at writing, I’ve just had the first few chapters laying around for a while lmao. Reblogs are appreciated!!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Chapter 2: u guys r moding my night :(

There was chaos in the Wayne Manor. This was nothing unusual, of course, and today it even seemed to be surprisingly tame. But it was chaos nonetheless.

Timothy Drake-Wayne careened down the spiral staircase, catching himself with a well-timed front flip handspring, and skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Alfred briefly paused to look up from where he was preparing dough for a batch of homemade pasta, then offered the boy a smile and a greeting.

“Good evening, Master Drake. Dinner won’t be ready for another half-hour, I’m afraid.” Tim had opened his mouth to reply when a growl echoed from the nearby ballroom.

Jason Todd-Wayne sprinted into the kitchen brandishing a nerf gun. “There you are, replacement. You won’t get away with beating me this time.” He pulled back the reloader of the play-gun, making a threatening click ring through the kitchen.

“I’m afraid you are both late to the party,” Alfred calmly announced as he mixed ingredients together. “Miss Cain has been here for the past five minutes.”

Cass Cain-Wayne indeed poked her head out from where she had been perched beneath the bar. She gave her brothers a shit-eating grin and wiggled her fingers as way of a cheeky greeting.

Tim gave a groan as he and Jason begrudgingly handed some money over to their sister. “She cheats.” Cass stuck her tongue out at that. “Besides, racing you here was just an excuse to get my mind off waiting for midnight.”

“And because Alfred is the only one polite enough to actually listen to you rave about that stupid game,” Jason scoffed, sitting down at the bar to watch Alfred work.

“--thought I heard voices in the kitchen, oh there you are, little wing!” Dick Grayson-Wayne’s cheery voice came from the foyer, increasing in pitch as he spotted Jason and swept him up into a tight hug.

Barbara Gordon wheeled herself in not too long after, chuckling at the squirming Jason and delighted older brother.

Meanwhile Tim, who had taken offense to Jason’s insinuation, was reassuring Alfred that if he wanted the boys to leave him be he only ever had to ask. “It’s just that I’m so excited for the launch tonight, and you know B is too busy to hear about it.”

Jason had finally muscled his way out of Dick’s embrace as the latter’s attention focused on his youngest brother. “What launch are you talking about?” Dick asked, giving Cass a side hug.

“Oh, tonight is the release of this new VRMMORPG game called Mindscape!” Tim practically bounced as Dick came over to give him his hug too.

Dick gave Barbara a confused glance. “I know some of those words,” he nodded slowly. “So what’s got you so excited? Video games come out all the time.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Jason on the barstools. “Well yeah, but this game has groundbreaking virtual reality tech. Supposedly, the textures took five years and a team of almost 1000 artists.”

Jason put Tim into a headlock and said casually, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard replacement talking about this yet. He kinda won’t shut up about it.”

Cass nodded her head in solemn agreement while Tim struggled to get out of Jason’s grasp.

“Such are the woes of moving out.” Dick shrugged. “Sounds crash though, got room for one more?”

Tim finally shoved Jason off. “I actually bought enough passes that we can all play if you want,” he gave each of his siblings the biggest puppy-dog eyes he could manage.

Barbara snorted even as Dick pumped his fist in the air beside her. She wheeled herself up to the bar to pinch Jason, who was poised to jab his fingers into Tim’s sides. Jason yelped and glared at her as she said, “Sorry Timmy, I’d rather let someone else be the guinea pig for this new kind of tech. Besides, Dad will worry if I let myself get sucked into pouring too many hours into this.”

“Papa Gordon is a force to be reckoned with,” Dick attested earnestly. “Jay?” he prompted.

“Absolutely not,” Jason answered immediately. Tim was quick to protest. “But why? We could spend more time together! It’ll be good team-building.” Jason’s face soured at that.

Dick leaned in and stage-whispered, “Do I have to tell B to force you into family bonding? You know he’ll make you do it.”

Cass covered her silently laughing mouth with one hand as Jason threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, don’t get Bruce involved. I’ll play your stupid game,” he finally relented. Tim grinned at his win, then cast a hopeful look at Cass.

She pulled a face and signed No thank you. Better things to do than watch VR pornos.

Tim’s face blushed profusely as he opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Jason’s cackling. Even Alfred cracked a smile while he rolled the dough onto the ravioli press.

Once Jason quieted down, Tim crossed his arms and said, “Suit yourself. Looks like it’ll be no-girls-allowed anyway.”

“Guess we’d better tell Cassie that, Timbo,” Dick wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which Tim elected to ignore.

“Speaking of suits,” Alfred said while seamlessly spreading filling in the ravioli and placing another sheet on top of the press, “aren’t you boys going to miss the premiere if it is indeed at midnight?”

Tim looked imploringly at the two girls. “You wouldn’t be willing to trade shifts for your favorite brother, would you?”

* * *

Wally West strolled out of the zeta tube and into the Justice League’s satellite, known to himself and the other heroes as The Watchtower. He was dressed in a casual NASA t-shirt and jeans, slurping a smoothie, and playing a game on his phone.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up. He was greeted with the sight of his old team, Aqualad, Superboy, Miss Martian, Rocket, Zatanna, and Artemis, waiting impatiently. They were dressed in full hero attire-- he didn’t even realize Artemis still had her costume-- and looked to him expectantly.

“Hey guys, what’s poppin’?” Wally grinned and gave his friends a lazy chin jerk.

“‘What’s poppin’?’ Babe, are you serious? You told us to meet here ASAP for an emergency. So you can tell us what exactly is ‘poppin’.” Ah yes, his Spitfire. Artemis Crock still wasn’t afraid to give him a piece of her mind. But this time it looked like everyone else was on her side too, as they nodded in agreement with her emphatic air quotes.

“Oh, uh yeah, Mindscape is coming out tonight!” He set his smoothie down on the table. “I got us all passes and I’m super stoked for the launch. It’s got this super cool new VR tech that’s basically being released for the first time ever. I got the equipment through my internship, so we’re all set! You guys are totally coming right?” He made finger guns at his increasingly exasperated friends.

Artemis facepalmed. Kaldur’ahm raised his eyebrows in that I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say it way of his and said, “Wally, with you and Artemis retired from the life, understand that we took this to be a literal emergency and rushed to your aid. Do not abuse our good intentions.”

“Seriously West, I have a lot on my plate right now!” Rochelle Ervin was also, apparently, a little upset with him. “You could’ve said it was about a dumb game.”

The speedster tried to do damage control with some lighthearted humor. “Hey guys, stay whelmed. I get it, I probably should have given a few more deets about this very-much-not-dumb game, but do you know how many candy bars I had to eat to win these passes?”

“This is why you’ve been spending so much on junk food?” Oh, he was in big trouble with Artemis now. “You probably didn’t have to eat all of them, babe.”

M’gann M’orzz, Connor Kent, and Zatanna Zatara looked similarly annoyed. Well, the girls did. Connor just looked like his usual brand of annoyed, which was honestly a small victory.

“So...” Wally felt a little sheepish now, “who wants in?”

The rest of the group exchanged a look. Artemis was the first to speak up. “Well, you’ve already invested too much of our money in this to turn back now.” She walked up to him and poked a finger at his chest. “But you owe me so many dinners for this.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal!”

Rochelle spoke up next. “Me and my plate don’t need any more helpings, thank you very much. I’ll see y’all at the next team reunion!” She flew out through the zeta tube.

Kaldur clapped him on the shoulder. “If you need any assistance, I will be there. But for now I am running Atlantis in Aquaman’s stead while he is off-world, and I must return to my duties.” He then bid the rest of the team farewell and stepped through the zeta tube.

“Haha, he said ‘duties.’” Wally said once he’d left, then winced as Artemis smacked his arm lightly. Lightly for her. Rubbing his arm, he looked imploringly at his other friends.

M’gann and Conner looked deep in a telepathic conversation, which was just awkwardly intense eye contact for onlookers. Zatanna crossed her arms and sighed, “Fine, why not. I didn’t have plans for the weekend anyway. Lead the way to your chocolate factory, Charlie.”

Connor, having caught the tail end of the conversation, looked confused at the reference. He shrugged and said, “I’m in, could be fun.”

M’gann gave her friends an apologetic smile. “Sorry guys, my uncle needs help back on Mars. There’s tensions between the white and green martians again, and he really needs me there to get it under control.”

She gave Connor a peck on the cheek and left to board the nearby Bioship.

“And then there were four,” Wally said with a smile. “Now let’s go make you guys some avatars!”

* * *

Bart Allen could hardly contain his excitement. Scratch that, he couldn’t contain his excitement! “Bouncing off the walls” may be an exaggeration for most people, but he was not most people. Being the grandson of The Flash certainly had its perks, and being able to literally bounce off the walls was one of them.

The cause of his excitement, his friends Timothy Drake-Wayne and Wally West, had just called to ask if Bart wanted extra passes to the premiere of the biggest video game of the decade. And uh, yeah duh he wanted them! He already had one he’d bought for himself, but bringing four extra friends? So totally crash.

He opened up his phone and pulled up the group chat titled Badass Babes.

CrashBandicoot: hey bitchez n babez (u kno who u r), u ready 4 the best videogame of the yr to drop?!

BlueMenace: ese, do you HAVE to type like that?

WonderBabe: yea it’s super annoying

CrashBandicoot: gtta go fast babez

CrashBandicoot: now answer the question

GreenMenace: oh i heard about that! mindscape, right? isn’t it some vr game

CrashBandicoot: yes! nd i got extra tix, so come ovr to cave

GirlBoss: No can do, got research tomorrow!

MaleWife: you always have research bae. sorry little speedster, gotta drive the lady to work

CrashBandicoot: u guys r moding my night :(

BlueMenace: totally not a word but I’ve got you cariño, be there in an hour

WonderBabe: ah what the heck, I’ve got nothing better to do

GreenMenace: always down to whoop ur ass in video games

CrashBandicoot: u wish

CrashBandicoot: roy?

Ginger1 is typing...

WonderBabe: it’ll be fun! more ~mingling~ with kids our age

Ginger2: Hold on, give him some time

Ginger1 is typing...

BlueMenace: Roy, I can pick you up on my way in if you want

Ginger1 has stopped typing.

Ginger2: Um, he says he’ll meet you guys there

Ginger2: He may have destroyed his phone with his “non-typing” hand

GreenMenace: pog

WonderBabe: see u guys soon!

Bart pumped his fist, then ran at top speed to his boyfriend Jaime’s house, where it looked like he was doing homework. Seriously, on a Friday night? Bart had absolutely no qualms about whisking him into his arms and making for the nearest zeta tube.

“Woah Bart, I said I needed an hour!” Jaime protested.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you definitely don’t have anything due tonight, and we have to make your character online before the launch!”

Jaime just looked resigned as they sped into the zeta tube. He knew what he had signed up for.

#healing hands #jasonette #sword art online au #virtual reality #maribat #maribat fic #batfam #batfam fic #yj #yj fic #young justice #young justice fic

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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years

Text

A Devil’s Toy | Arvin Russell x Male!Reader

Request: Crossover where Arvin gets connected with the symbiote? Because Spidey!Arvin seems silly and unfitting but Venom!Arvin is kind of 😳😳😳

Words: 3694

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The town you lived in was always quiet. The birds chirped happily in the tree, nature at it's best. Cars approaching from the forest road were easily heard from miles away. Sorting the groceries you just brought home, a distant sound shakes you from your thought. Fast-paced footsteps approach your house from the treeline. They certainly were running. Before you were able to shove the curtain aside, you hear a voice call out your name. Repeatedly.

"Arvin?" You speed to the door, opening it for him. "What happened?" Eyeing the dirty cloth wrapped around his lower right arm. As you looked closer, it covered most of his lower arm. You couldn't see his hand nor wrist. His eyes were narrow, heaving for air, as he clutched his other hand tightly on the cloth. This wasn't the first time Arvin came in like this. In all those years you'd known him, he got in a lot of fights, with the necessary injuries. He won most of them, but some… He knew he was outmatched, yet it is as if he didn't care. As if the greater the challenge, the bigger the appeal.

"G-Get… me… a... k-...k-knife." He stuttered through the heaving breaths, unwrapping the cloth from his arm. You seat him down at the kitchen table and quickly bring him a large knife. For what was the question right now, but you never questioned Arvin. And if you did, most of the time, he didn't answer. At first, you didn't notice any blood as the cloth opened up. His denim jacket still in good shape. You notice how nervous and anxious he is. Eyeing his surroundings constantly. Trust was something Arvin didn't have. At least in most people. You always managed with him. But something was off about Arvin. He kept everything in check. As if he was expecting something or someone.

"Help me (Y/N)-..." He snarled while ripping the last the piece of cloth from his hand. "-get this off me." Struck by fear, revolt, and sheer terror, you jolt back a few steps. Covering your mouth with one hand.

"W-Wha… What is that?!" Arvin's hand was completely black, not from sickness. As far as you knew from a first glance. Because it moved. Your bowels churned in revolt. Feeling your earlier snack rise in distaste. The tar-like ooze moved and pulsated around his hand and lower arm.

"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed, grabbing the knife. "I don't know! Just get it off me!" Trying to scrape it off with the sharp end. He shook all over, struggling to place the blade against the moving substance. From both angles, it was impossible to decide if he was going to strike the goo or his own skin. His hesitation held the blade at bay. "Goddammit! Help me (Y/N)!" He angrily shot at you.

"C-Can you move your hand?"

"Eh… Yes... "He said, seeing them move shakingly. "I can feel it..."

"Alright… Alright…." Grabbing his coat. "Take it off." You command, pulling him onto his feet. "We have to know how far it's-…"

"(Y/N)?" He asked with widening eyes. Seeing the fear struck in your eyes. "What's-…"

Step by step, you back up from Arvin. Feeling the trembles take over your body as the level of eye contact with him slowly rises. This had to be a nightmare. What Arvin's legs once were, wrapped in jeans, were now encased in the same black ooze from earlier. Forming a new pair of legs for him. And rapidly consuming the rest of his frame. The stuff that ate away at Arvin had towered over you faster than you could believe. Slowly stepping your way. Only Arvin's face now left. You wanted to scream out your lungs, call for Arvin. Wanted to help him. But all sense had left you. Terror had overcome you. Especially when you saw the rows of gigantuous, white razor-sharp teeth erupt out from the black being's skin. Engulfing Arvin's face from its forehead and chin. In a matter of seconds, Arvin had disappeared completely. Taken by the black pulsating goo that stood before you. A pair of white oval eyes stared at you as the jawline with long teeth stretched into what could be described as a smile.

With your back against the wall, the only response you could muster was throwing the closest thing beside you at it. A cup. It did nothing. The black mass towered over you as your legs buckled and crashed to the floor. "A-A...A-...Arvin...??"

"Well hello…" The creature spoke with a haunting voice. "Arvin is currently occupied... elsewhere." Chuckling to himself. As its jaws opened, your nightmare was complete. A red, ribbed, slimy tentacle of a tongue stretched outwards. Licking its so-called teeth. "He'll be fine, though." Approaching you, as you tried to crawl away. "I promise." It smiled; the drips of slime dangled from its teeth. "For now, I am hungry..."

"P-P-Please… I…" You pleaded, covering your eyes with your arms. Shielding you from the horror that was in front of you. The tears finally showing. Its arms were massive, bulking masses of muscles. It claws with sharp talons close to striking distance.

"Ooooow." It arched back up. "I see... "Nodding in sudden amusement at your shuddering frame, held in a fetus position. "Now, I get it." It chuckled. "I get it." Looking around the room. "I can't touch your lover." You notice the innards of the black ooze struggle and fight.

"A-Arvin's still in there…?"

"Oh, Yes." It said before the black ooze curled back from Arvin's face. Revealing him alive, and surprisingly well.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)!" He said. "There was this truck-" And as Arvin was telling his story, you notice the body language of the thing. Mimicking Arvin's way of speaking. As if Arvin was controlling the black ooze. But somehow was also… alive? Sentient? The story was impossible to follow as you watch the movements, streamlined with Arvin's. This was impossible. But you were glad Arvin was alive.

"Wh-... What was that about-... about...?" You shook your head, conflicted by so many things. "I have so many questions."

There was little time for Arvin to react as the ooze slipped back over his face. He protested; you could see the struggle. But somehow, the ooze retook control. "Sorry lovey-doveys… But it's time. Allow me to introduce myself." Bowing before you. "I'm Venom, and Arvin here-..." Tapping its belly. "-...is my new host." Laughing amusingly. "Together, we're going to have so much fun."

It's pale white eyes stared at you, as if it was expecting something from you. "And you are?" It asked. "It's customary to introduce yourself to newcomers."

"(Y/N)." You said in a shaken voice. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, I already knew that." It looked back up again. "I played along, out of kindness." Giving you a nod and a smile. Before turning its attention back to its surroundings. "Anyway. I hear them." It stopped, eyeing the direction the sound came from. It doesn't take much for your trained ears to hear the footsteps in the distance. The rushed, fast-paced ones. Cracking leaves and branches as they approached. Some walked with a determined stride. But they were with many.

"I thought it was you at first." It quipped back, showing you a sort of smile. "But I was wrong. Sorry!" The smile was highly uncomfortable to watch, the rows of teeth showing high and wide. The stench was something that came second. But not any better.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about." Keeping your eyes on the lumbering figure standing in the room. It somehow had a muscular physique to it, despite the otherwordly colors. Black and rippled with some sort of veins protruding from its so-called skin. It's highly disturbing to look at.

"Little Arvin and I will explain later." Moving its arm towards you. Every movement made you jump. Especially this, seeing its talons close in. "Don't worry." It smiled, seeing you repulse from fear, with your back against the wall. "I won't hurt you." It said, but its tone was more taunting than comfortable at this point.

"Take this." Opening his black oozing hand to you. The skin bubbled and moved as something began to emerge. From the torso, something slid underneath the skin towards the hand. The happening alone made you sick. "Arvin won't need it." Revealing the gun, you knew Arvin carried with him from time to time. "He has a better weapon now." He grinned, tossing it in your lap as it looked for the newcomers.

"W-Wh… What do I do?" You've had practice with a gun. That was a fact. Arvin had shown you, taught you. But at this point. You were completely blank—pulling at the magazine. Trying to get the damn mechanism to work. But your shaking hands struggle to make anything work right now.

"You phew phew that thingie-... "Pointing at the gun with its talons. "-at any one of those outside." It said while watching you struggle. "Plenty of targets."

"I… I… don't…" You stammer, dropping it to the floor. "Fuck…!" Cursing more under your breath while you clammy hands struggle to pick it up.

You recoil back against the wall, not that you could go further. The oozes torso ripple and move as you saw Arvin reach out. His entire upper torso revealing from the black ooze. "Come 'ere." He said while handling the gun. Cocking and reloading it. It surprised you to see Arvin this relaxed. Normally his anger would have surfaced and lost control over the situation. But now, he seemed convinced about what was about to happen.

You jump scare a little as a magazine for the gun popped into your lap. "Found this in his back pocket." Venom said as the hole in his shoulder closed.

He took your one hand, his grip firm and reassuring, warm to the touch, to the point of bolstering your confidence. For a moment, you're lost in each other eyes, feeling a sense of humanity return. Bringing you back as he helped to put your fingers on the gun. Closing your second hand around the other. "Use it if you have to." He said. "Stay safe."

"Arvin… How do we know if they're-" Your voice was cut off. The air knocked from your lungs. As the world around you was reduced to splinters, smoke, and glass. Eardeafening explosions shook you to the very bone. It all happened so fast. In that split second, the door at the other end of the room was reduced to mere splinters. Chunks of wood scattered across the floor and dug itself into softer material than itself. A loud ring sounded in your ears as you lost your bearings completely. Your vision had doubled, twice, or thrice—more than enough to see Venom move away from you. Through the whirling dust and flying wood splinters, you see it darting across the floor. The room wasn't that big, but in an instance, it sat upon the figure standing in the doorframe. Its scream didn't reach your ear because it didn't have time to. You shouldn't have blinked, but your ramshackle mind had too. Before you had any further chance to see what was happening. The figure had disappeared. Leaving Venom standing there, licking its teeth with that weird-looking tongue.

You jolt back into life as you feel the air coming back into your lungs. Coughing the dust and dirt up from your windpipe, it had forced itself in. A shock racked your frame as an object hit your foot. "Keep that safe." Venom's voice called out, noticing the large shotgun in front of you. Before you looked up and responded to him. Venom was already gone. Luckily your vision had begun to come back. To your shock, around you was a circle of splinters and fragments of other metal embedded deep into the wall. Struck by panic again, you check yourself. Hands, legs, arms. A relieved smile cracked your lips. You weren't hurt. Venom and Arvin had most certainly protected you from the blast. Seeing the damage all around you. It was one mass of destruction. With your courage gathered, and like any natural instinct kicking in, you try to get up on your legs. Water. You needed water. And eye the sink.

Shards of glass shatter across the counter as you duck back to the floor. You try to stay low, hunched as the sound of gunshots increased. The automatic fire increased as voices called out. Unfamiliar and loud. Commands were given. Screaming, yelling. They must have seen you as the bullets tore through the windows. The impact clearly seen on the walls. Ripping and tearing through every inch of the house. You duck lower to the ground. Terrified to the bone. Frames falling from the wall, and shelves coming loose. Everything went flying as the bullets tore it all apart. You didn't dare to look up. Broken glass and furniture flew through the air. Nothing was safe. Feeling the chances of survival slim by every passing moment.

Outside was this constant carnage, ripped screams. Trees being felled and branches snapping like twigs in a storm. It was a warzone outside. You could hear it, feel it—the tearing of limbs and flesh. The cries of the injured were short-lived. If there were any at all. With the sense of time and place lost in the heat of battle. The sound of battle and slowly began dying down. Less and less guns were being fired. Arvin better returns in one piece; you prayed to the Lord. In a moment like this, faith was a scapegoat option. Because you felt helpless and prayed for a good outcome.

The sound of someone approaching across the porch nailed you to the floor. Once the bullets had started tearing through the walls, surely targeting you, you had fallen to the floor. Flat on your stomach in the dirt and debris. Praying for your life. And now you lay there, with the gun in reach of you. You frantically crawl towards it, realizing too late that you were trudging through the glass splinters. But the adrenaline kept you going. Your fingers shuddered across the cold metal of the gun. Struggling to get a grip on it again.

As the heavy treads of boots stamped across the porch towards the already blasted open door. The voice of a man, different than Arvin's. Talking to someone. Tears had already flooded your vision as you brought the iron sights up along your eyesight. Clouding your vision. The gun shook terribly in your hand, as you crawled back up against the wall where you sat earlier. Countless holes had penetrated through the wall, now shafts of light shining through. It's mystical to see the dust flying around in the sudden silence. Only focused on the impending footsteps.

You squinted your eyes, trying to avoid the look on the person's face once you had pulled the trigger. You knew the mechanism; it was rough. Requiring a strong pull on the trigger to fire. "ARVIN!" You screamed from the top of your lungs. Crying out for help. "VENOM!" Tears rolled down your cheeks as your gaze swept to the other end size. The backdoor flew open with force.

"Son of a bitch is here!" Another voice called from the back. Taking steps into the house. Hearing the floor creak under the weight. You swing the gun back and forth. Not sure who was going to show up first. Either way, they were closing in on you. You knew the layout better than the intruders. You knew where the backdoor was, and how he had to walk down the hallway into the kitchen. You swing back to the front door. The one in the back had to be a few footsteps away from you.

The flash blinded you for a moment, rocking your entire frame as the gun fired its bullet down the barrel. Smashing through the wooden wall into the hallway. Splintering chunks of wood across the floor and into the hallway. A hushed curse came from the hallway. Your eyes catch movement at the front door. Everything went so fast. The man appeared in the doorway, almost in a veil-like light, holding a rifle. When a tentacle of blackness shot up into its side. Gurgled screams shot up from its shuddering frame. His arms go limb as the rifle hits the floor, and disappears as fast as he appeared. Not a scream, nothing. Just gone. A glimpse of white eyes and teeth are more than enough to reassure Venom and Arvin were there. A relief. Seeing the black mass surge past the doorframe off the hallway. A short burst of automatic fire forced you back into that scared fetal position as it connected with all sorts of pottery in the kitchen beside you. Piercing through the wall, shattering plates, pans, and cups. But silenced with a gurgle of blood and air, followed by a hard thud on the floor. The only thing you could hear was your own ragged breath and spend cartridges rolling on the floor.

"(Y/N)?" Arvin sped around the corner, seeing the last of Venom's skin disappear behind him. "You alright?" You nodded as you caught your breath, slowly sitting yourself back up again. Arvin didn't need an answer. He saw the small cuts and splinters in your forearm. He looked around through the destruction, searching that familiar cabinet that now had fallen to the floor. Kicking the broken pieces away with his feet. Fishing the first aid out. By now, he knew quite well where to find it. Approaching you with a caring look on his face, yet also a smile. A rare smile for Arvin. "You look like shit." He said, looking down at you with that same taunting smile.

"T-That's..." You laughed but was interrupted by a rough coughing fit. "T-That's my line."

"Not today." Handing you a bottle of liquor, he found lying on the floor, surprising intact. "Just like old times. But this time…" He kneeled in front of you, brushing the dust from your lips with his other hand. "I'll help you." Cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your heart already raced from earlier. But in that split second, it skipped several. So it was true what Venom said; that was the last thing that crossed your mind. Before his lips connected with yours. Kissing you with great care and precision. The world had already fallen silent, but now there was nothing more but you and Arvin. "Thank you." You mumbled into the slowly sloppier kiss.

"No problem." Venom responded in his dark voice before Arvin could. The silence was broken by the two of you chuckling softly in each others' embrace. It was true. Venom had done so much for the two of you. He was the reason you both were alive. And together. Finally.

"You still have a lot to learn, Arvin." You groan, locking your jaw as you observe him struggle with the pincers. Trying to remove the last shards and splinters of glass and wood from your arm.

"Sit still." He leaned upwards, giving you a kiss. "I need to concentrate." Ticking the bottle with his pincers, as a sign of telling you to drink.

"How can I... when you kiss me like that." Arvin's proud glance at you said more than enough. With his other hand, he guided the bottle upwards to your lip. He knew how much pain you were having. The adrenaline had worn off quicker than you expected. Arvin knew that all too well. "The preacher won't approve of us." You sighed, rolling your head back against the wall. The liquor slowly numbing your senses.

"And he ain't a good one, you know that." Arvin hissed. The rest of his muttering was impossible to hear. And it might be for the better. From day one, Arvin didn't have a good hunch about that preacher. But he was shut up by his sister. She believed in him, like so many others.

"Ow, I want to pay him a visit." Venom said, emerging on a string of gooiness beside Arvin's head. "Let's have some fun with him." He smiled viciously. "I can read your mind, Arvin. You hate him. All the more reason to."

"Won't hurt to teach him a lesson…?" Arvin looked at you for approval. As if he needed that from you. You and Arvin were on the same level on so many things. The preacher was one of them. You also didn't go to church for the longest time. To the disapproval of many in the town. But it made the Sunday morning one hell of a good morning. Arvin stopped going too and came around your place at that every Sunday morning.

"You know how I think about him." You grinned. "But what about all this?" Eyeing the interior of your house. "It's ruined." The destruction all around was immense. Bullets had torn everything apart. The table and chairs, reduced to chunks of wood. Large shotgun shells had blasted holes through the walls and wreaked havoc on the interior. It's a wonder the walls were still standing. "I can't live here anymore…"

"I don't know…" Arvin looked around, raking his fingers through his brown curls, lost in his thoughts.

"And how about all those bodies?" The thought had just crossed your mind. You hadn't seen one, but there had to be at least ten of them scattered around your house and littering the forest.

"I'm still hungry…" Venom said, showing its row of teeth, smiling very broadly.

"He ate most of them…" Arvin said, as if that was giving any comfort.

"And then...Arvin? What's next?"

Arvin's gaze was locked elsewhere, thoughts far beyond the room, but said nothing. He hunched on his knees, turned around, and sat himself down beside you. "I don't know…" He sighed, resting his head against the wall. "But we'll figure something out." Putting his arm around you. Resting your head against one another, watching the dust dance in the air through the beams of sunlight, shining through the bullets holes. "Together."

#arvin russell x male reader #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x male!reader #Arvin Russell #arvin russell tom holland #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #mlm #male!reader #male reader #male reader imagine

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crossbowking · 5 years

Text

The Dark Place

Summary: (Set in the beginning of Season 4) While on a hunt for supplies, the reader is forced to face a childhood fear.

Request: “I’m not brave like you are.” @eiresworld

A/N: Hiya strangers! Glad to be back! Hopefully, everyone enjoys this little one-shot — the ending gave me such a tough time, you have no idea. I would love to hear some feedback from you lovely readers! Makes this whole process totally worth it.

xx crossbowking

“Shit!” you exclaimed, coming to an abrupt halt, the archer colliding into you from behind a moment later.

Daryl steadied himself, grabbing onto one of the many lockers lining the hallway for support before he sidestepped around your frozen form, his heavy breaths mirroring yours. “Shit,” he reiterated with a growl, the sudden severity of the situation hitting him then.

You’d been scavenging a nearby elementary school for supplies. With all of the newcomers from Woodbury moving in with your group at the prison, the need for necessities had nearly tripled. You and Daryl — being two of the most skilled in scavenging and tracking — had begun making weekly trips around town to keep supplies in stock for the rest of the survivors.

After exhausting all local resources, you’d been forced to broaden your search perimeter — which had led you here — to this moment.

Surprisingly, the school had already been fairly wiped clean — lockers emptied, cafeteria ransacked, nurse’s office barren. You and Daryl had been making your way out of the school when suddenly, the doors to the auditorium shattered open as you’d passed by them — a hoard of the dead pouring out from its confines.

So you ran, Daryl hot on your heels as you weaved throughout hallway after hallway, the herd trailing not far behind, fueled by raw and innate hunger.

And now — well, now you were trapped.

The last corner you’d rounded had turned out to be a dead-end — how morbidly ironic.

Bracing your hands against your knees, you worked on controlling your breathing, the grunts and groans coming from around the corner growing increasingly deafening as the herd began shortening the distance between them and their next meal.

You glanced up, watching Daryl begin to pace rapidly back and forth — and as though you could read his mind, you could see the wheels turning as time began to run out. For a brief moment, his gaze landed on your hunched over form, expression unreadable before he tore his eyes away. He instead lifted his crossbow, looking as though he was counting how many bolts he had left — but you could tell by the way his body stiffened, the way his features hardened, that there weren’t nearly enough.

Daryl let out a stream of curses, though his voice soon became lost amongst the roar of the dead.

You straightened, wanting to say something, anything, to provide some sort of reassurance for the man — but the moment you opened your mouth, you were interrupted by a low snarl coming from behind you.

Without a second thought, you spun on your heels, coming face to face with one of the dead. There was no hesitation as you swung your arm forward, plunging your knife straight into the walker’s temple, its body immediately collapsing at your feet. You yanked the blade from its skull, quickly standing upright as your sights set on three more biters rounding the corner, faster than the rest of the herd soon approaching.

You took a step forward, knife armed and ready, but before you could make a move, you felt Daryl grab onto your arm. “The hell ya doin’?” he hissed sharply, pulling you back against his chest, fingertips digging into your flesh as he began yanking you away from the advancing dead.

“What’s it look like!” you shouted as you struggled against his hold, stumbling backward, unable to shake off Daryl’s grasp.

“Ya gonna get yourself killed, that’s what! C’mon!” he bellowed, practically carrying you down the rest of the hall, closer to the dead-end, surveying the incoming herd from over your head.

Daryl finally let go once you reached the end of the hall, a row of lockers and a brick wall trapping you there. But that was when you noticed something on the third wall you hadn’t before — a door.

“Get in, Y/N,” Daryl ordered as he raised his crossbow and fired at the closest nearing walker, landing a perfect headshot.

A burst of hope rushed through you as you reached for the door handle and yanked it open.

But it wasn’t what you’d expected — it wasn’t a stairwell or a classroom, it didn’t have any windows or other doors you could climb and escape through.

It was a closet. A custodial closet filled with sprays and rags and brooms and darkness.

And you felt your chest tighten.

“Get in!” Daryl shouted once more, his fiery gaze locked on you as he reloaded his bow and fired once more.

You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to make any words come out as you stepped backward, your entire body beginning to tremble, your legs turning into mush beneath you.

When Daryl suddenly appeared behind you, his arm roughly wrapping around your waist, he began forcing you forward, closer to the closet.

“No!” you shrieked, feeling your heart begin to pound inside your chest as your flailed against the archer, turning around in his grip so you were face to face. “N-No, no! I can’t! Stop, damn it!”

“The fuck’s the matter with ya! We ain’t gonna make it, Y/N!” Daryl growled through his teeth as he struggled to maneuver you into the closet, his expression wild as the clock began to run out, the herd now only a few feet away.

“Just let me go! I can take the herd! I-I can handle it!” you stammered, pounding your fists against the archer's chest, trying to create some sort of space between you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?”

“Let me —“

“— gonna do is get us both killed —“

“— take care of myself, please —“

“— an’ get your ass in —“

“Get off me, you —“

“Now!” Daryl roared, swiftly grabbing both of your wrists with one hand, the other wrapping tightly around your waist as he hefted you up, trapping you against his chest before he lunged forward into the darkness.

Your body crashed against the back wall of the closet, briefly knocking the wind out of you before Daryl released you. You spun around just in time to see the archer deliver a powerful kick into the gut of a walker that’d attempted to push its way into the closet after you — the biter stumbling backward, knocking over a mass of the dead in the process.

Then Daryl grabbed onto the doorknob, the last shred of light disintegrating as he yanked the closet door shut until you were enveloped in nothing but darkness.

You couldn’t move.

It was as though your feet had molded into the foundation below, like the floor was clawing it’s way up your body, seeping into your bones, running through your veins until it consumed you altogether.

You couldn’t breathe.

It was as though every last breath had been forced from your lungs, leaving you desperate for another gasp, for the sweet relief of air to ease the burning pain growing in your chest.

The walls were closing in on you — you were sure of it. The ceiling was collapsing, the floor rising, threatening to crush you until you were nothing but ash. The darkness around you was somehow getting darker — more vast, more void — and had it not been for the wall pressed up against your back, you feared the blackness would swallow you entirely.

Through the foggy ringing in your ears, you could just barely make out the sound of sporadic thuds and incessant growls — but the sound seemed far away, muddled and lost against the drumming of your rapid heartbeat.

And then you felt pressure.

Dull at first, but getting increasingly sharper. First on your shoulders, followed by a quick shake. Then grasping onto the sides of your arms, the squeezing becoming more intense before the heaviness dissipated, reappearing around your neck.

But the touch was different this time — it was gentle, it was grounding.

And that was when you finally heard it.

Through the darkness around you, the ringing in your ears, the cloudiness of your mind — you finally heard him.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his breath tickle across your skin, his calloused fingertips brushing the hair from your face, grounding you further. You suddenly began to feel faint, wobbly even, your rapid breathing making you lightheaded, your legs trembling beneath you before giving out altogether.

But the ground never rushed up to meet you — instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle, holding you upright for a moment before slowly lowering you to the floor.

You still felt paralyzed — by the darkness, the confinement, the fear. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t seem to catch your breath, to calm your racing heart.

But then you felt a hand gently grab the back of your head, pushing you down until your face rested against your curled knees. Your arms automatically snaked around your shins, coiling yourself into a tight ball. The world still sounded muddled, though you could still vaguely hear distant pounding, low snarls, fading growls, and then suddenly —

“Breathe.”

Your breath caught in your throat — you knew that voice.

That voice was safe. That voice was home.

“C’mon, girl. I need ya ta’ breathe, alright?”

You wanted to breathe — you needed to breathe. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why did it feel as though you were trapped underwater suddenly? Why did it seem like —

“I got ya, alright? I got ya.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there — kneeling in front of you, brow furrowed, hands gripping tightly onto your elbows, reeling you back from the dark recesses of your mind.

You felt him draw nearer then, his body practically enveloping yours as you felt the stubble of his cheek press against the side of your head.

“Breathe,” came a soft whisper, low and guttural, his lips directly next to your ear.

The tightness in your chest lessened, allowing you to inhale a deeper breath.

“‘Atta’ girl,” he murmured, his exhale tickling your cheek. “Jus’ like that.”

You inhaled once more, melting into the warmth of his body shielding yours.

“Alright, alright, it’s alright,” he rumbled and you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or himself in that moment — either way, you couldn’t focus on that. Breathing — that’s what you could focus on.

You felt him shift, pulling himself away from you then — and you couldn’t stop the soft noise that slipped past your lips in protest, your voice still lost somewhere in your chest.

“M’ here, it’s okay,” he suddenly mumbled as if reading your mind, before you felt him reposition himself beside you, the sides of your bodies just barely touching.

You exhaled shakily, feeling some of the fog finally lifting, finding strength in the presence beside you. If you just focused on that, focused on him, you didn’t have to think about the way your body was twisted and cramped inside the darkness — you didn’t have to think about the reason why you were so damn scared.

You kept your eyes closed, forehead still resting against your knees, taking slow and steady deep breaths.

“Jus’ gotta wait ‘em out,” he whispered, voice gruff and deep in his chest. “Ain’t too long now, alright? I’ll get ya outta here — promise ya that.”

You nodded your head once — not that he could see it anyways — but it was all you could muster at that moment.

Silence stretched on between you then, save for the steady pounding and groans coming from outside the closet door — but just like Daryl had predicted, gradually they started to fade, drawn away by outside noises or sudden lack of interest until eventually, the noises stopped completely.

The stillness was deafening — even Daryl stopped breathing, the two of you waiting with bated breath, waiting for the herd to come back, for them to somehow tear down the closet door and steal away your existence.

But when the quiet stretched on, the archer began to shift, pushing himself up off the floor.

Your head snapped up at his movements, his sudden absence sending a jolt of unease through you as you fumbled in the dark, grabbing onto his wrist.

Daryl stilled but didn’t pull away. “Hey, it’s okay, alright? M’ gettin’ us outta here,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before.

You let your hand fall away, inhaling shakily as you sat up straighter, resting the back of your head against the wall, arms still wrapped around your legs. The side of Daryl’s boot scuffed against yours as he maneuvered his way around you, feeling for the doorknob.

It was silent for a moment more before you heard a soft click, a slow creak, and then a sliver of light appeared.

You brought your hand up to shield your eyes, wincing slightly as the door opened further. Squinting through your fingers, you watched Daryl peek his head out into the hallway, sneaking a glance in both directions before an audible sigh slipped from his lips.

He pushed the door open all the way, light pouring over your cowering form — and every ounce of fear, of trauma, of weakness you had felt moments ago dissipated.

And in its place — shame.

You exhaled softly, feeling a pinprick of tears form as you unwound your arms from around your legs, your muscles sore and tender from rigidity. And even though you were safe now, even though you could walk right out of that closet, you just suddenly couldn’t find it in you to stand up.

You could practically feel Daryl’s eyes on you, no doubt wondering what in the fuck just happened to you — and you felt your cheeks flush, humiliated that he’d been forced to witness your unexpected nervous breakdown. You’d never wanted anyone to see you like that — you’d never wanted him to see you like that.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?” came Daryl’s gruff voice suddenly, like he’d read your mind once more — his words were soft, though. Understanding, almost.

You took a breath, wiping away the sweat that had formed on your brow before you glanced up at the archer. He stood still, almost statuesque, leaning coolly against the doorframe, crossbow dangling at his side, gaze locked on yours. You sighed once more, lowering your eyes to stare at your clasped hands. “Not really,” you whispered, voice thick.

Daryl grunted softly, shifting slightly, but didn’t make a move to leave. He was giving you time, you realized then — and you felt a warmth spread through your worn body.

You cleared your throat, wringing your hands together in your lap. “My stepdad used to lock me in the trunk of our car,” you murmured so quietly you weren’t even sure Daryl could hear you. The words had just tumbled out of you, desperate to be heard, out in the open for the first time in your entire life.

The quiet that stretched on seemed endless and you found yourself pressing on. “He wasn’t a bad person — he just, uh — he was Marine Corps,” you shrugged, clearing your throat once more. “He was a hard ass, you know? But I guess after all the shit he’d seen...I mean, I didn’t blame him for being the way he was.”

You weren’t sure why you were defending him — you’d hated the man growing up, hated your mother even more for marrying him. But still, you felt the need to explain yourself.

“I just — I was young. Really young. And too afraid to sleep in my own bed, I was — uh, I was scared, you know? The dark, the boogeyman, whatever,” you continued to ramble, digging your fingernails into the skin on your palm. “And he wanted me to be brave — wanted me to ‘face my fear’, I guess.”

You sighed, peeking up at Daryl from under your eyelashes. He remained in the doorway, still as stone, you weren’t even sure he was breathing. His gaze remained locked on yours, unfazed, and you almost felt stupid for speaking at all.

“Ain’t no way ta’ treat a kid, Y/N,” the archer simply murmured, his words carrying a heaviness to them.

You pursued your lips, lowering your gaze once more. “I’m sorry,” you exhaled quietly, the words, the guilt, bubbling out of you. “I-I almost got us killed — I almost got you killed. What would — what would I have done, huh? I could’ve gotten you —”

“Hey,” Daryl cut you off sharply, pushing off the doorframe. “Stop, alright? Ain’t your fault.”

You shook your head, wiping away a tear that snaked down your cheek. “I just — I-I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not — I’m not brave, Daryl. I’m not brave like you are. I mean, for fuck’s sake!” you snapped, your humiliation quickly morphing into anger. “How pathetic can —“

“Hey!” Daryl hissed, cutting you off once more, dropping down into a low crouch in front of you, his eyes ablaze, boring into yours. “Bullshit — it’s fuckin’ bullshit, Y/N. Not brave?” he scoffed incredulously. “Ya were gonna take on that whole damn herd all by yourself — jus’ you an’ that lil’ pig stick a’ yours,” he pointed out, nodding towards the knife strewn by your side.

“But —“

“Nah, that’s enough,” the archer interrupted, holding a hand out in front of him. A beat passed before you saw his eyes soften. “Ya made it this far, didn’t ya? An’ ya made it for a reason,” he urged firmly, though his tone was noticeably gentler. “Not brave?” he reiterated as if it were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “You’re a fuckin’ force, Y/N.”

You let his words sink in — the passion behind them striking you — and felt another wave of emotion wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered, holding his gaze for a moment longer before looking away. “I guess I should probably be thanking my stepdad — he was an asshole, but he also taught me how to survive.”

Daryl grunted once. “Still an asshole,” he grumbled dryly under his breath before he rose to his feet, extending his hand down towards you.

You grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull you up off the floor, your body swaying slightly as you maneuvered out of the closet. You inhaled deeply, sweet, fresh air filling your lungs, feeling the last remnants of your panic attack fade away.

You glanced up at the archer, surprised to see his gaze already locked on yours. “Ya good?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you nodded, giving Daryl’s hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away, feeling your cheeks flush suddenly. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you breathed, brushing the hair back from your face.

“C’mon then,” the archer rumbled, jerking his head, motioning for the two of you to start heading back.

You took a step forward but then paused, glancing behind you, sparing the closet one last look.

A moment later, you felt Daryl reach out from beside you, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Hey, let’s go home,” he murmured, drawing your attention back to him, his normally hardened features softening.

You quirked a small, somewhat sad smile, before nodding, Daryl’s expression mirroring yours as he let go of your shoulder and instead lightly cupped the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, surprised at the rare showing of affection from the archer, before he pulled away, the tips of his ears turning pink as he nudged you forward.

And as you navigated your way back through the abandoned elementary school, winding down hallway after hallway, you began to realize that ‘home’ didn’t always have to mean place.

Sometimes, incredibly, a home could become a person.

A/N: OK SO LIKE THIS ENDING ANNOYS ME LOL. But I tried to come up with something better for DAYS and it just didn’t want to manifest haha anywho, hope you all enjoyed anyways! Onto the next! Let me hear your thoughts!

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