#Knives Shoved So Far Up His Ass He Has A Sharp Tongue (Knives)

[all-my-friends-were-glorious]

GEORGE "GEORGIE"/"FIRKLE" SMITH

The Dark Vassal

"Dark, dark! The horror of darkness, like a shroud, wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud." - Sophocles

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: George Victor Smith

Nicknames: Georgie, Firkle, Firk, Firkadirk

Faceclaim: Ash Stymest

Age: 19

Gender: Transmale

Sexuality: Homosexual Demiromantic Polyagmous

Height: 5′9″

Weight: 99lbs

Birthday: November 1st

Sign: Scorpio

Occupation: Technically Unemployed; Drummer in a band; Taxidermist; Occasional Whore

Personality: 

+ Articulate, Captivating, Discreet, Forceful, Imaginative, Original, Precise, Punctual, Resourceful, Self-Reliant, Sexy, Thorough, Well-Read

/ Aggressive, Artful, Competitive, Dominating, Idiosyncratic, Intense, Outspoken, Religious, Sarcastic, Sensual, Solitary, Uninhibited

- Abrasive, Argumentative, Blunt, Calculating, Cold, Devious, Dishonest, Disloyal, Dogmatic, Envious, Fanatical, Frightening, Gloomy, Hateful, Hedonistic, Insensitive, Loquacious, Melancholic, Nihilistic, Opinionated, Possessive, Ritualistic, Self-Indulgent, Superstitious, Unhealthy

VICES

Addictions - Firkle is addicted to drugs, ranging from cough syrup to heavy painkillers. His favorite is Dilaudid, because it’s somewhat less nasty than actual heroin. He’ll try anything at least once, and if he doesn’t remember trying it, he’ll do it again. Most often he can be found getting high when he’s trying to deal with people outside of those he actually likes spending time with. When he goes to parties, it isn’t to be around people, but rather to partake in the drugs, alcohol, and occasional vaguely anonymous sex provided. Cigarettes, booze, and sex are also on the list, and he’s always willing to work out what he has to do to get any of his addictions. When not on missions from Cthulhu or working his own angles on things, he can almost always be persuaded into getting fucked up.

Cultism - Still a very loyal and large piece of the Cult of Cthulhu, he longs to bring the world into darkness even though he watched Cartman ride his god like a pony. He worked so hard and so diligently to rebuild what was left of the cult that he was given his familiar, Edgar, as a conduit to help them converse. Firkle has been chosen to deliver the world a vessel, a piece, of Cthulhu so that he can get a foothold on Earth once more. 

Power - Any and all ways to taste power are ones that Firkle will chase. In no situation will he permit himself to be powerless, even if he has to cheat. He’s very smart and has a habit of using that to his advantage whenever possible. He has no loyalty beyond what he feels to Cthulhu, and will betray anyone for a little taste of power.

Taxidermy - It’s no secret that Firkle loves to kill. Animals, people, insects, anything he can get his hands and a knife on. He pins bugs, and will turn most other ventures into taxidermy projects. He even has a life-sized hand-horse he is working on, killing people and taking their hands so that he can make a thoroughbred out of them, based on the horse made from Barbie hands.

Witchcraft - Firkle specializes in necromancy and water magic, including things to do with blood. He is not afraid to perform blood sacrifices and will go to the ends of his abilities in order to properly prepare and execute a spell he is intent on. He has several shrines around town that are fairly well hidden, one in a catacomb system beneath the cemetery and several in the woods past Stark’s Pond.

BIOGRAPHY

When Firkle was born, he was incredibly underdeveloped. Georgi had taken most of the nutrients in the womb, so he had ended up just being smaller. They say he came out holding onto their ankle, and he never stopped being clingy with them. Having to stay in the hospital for a while to finish growing under supervised care was great for his parents, who didn’t want him, but Georgi was endlessly upset.

As they grew, Firkle showed signs of sociopathy, only caring about himself and Georgi. In Kindergarten, he met the goth kids when he released several millipedes into a girl’s locker and let loose a whole host of bugs from his backpack. Georgi joined the vamp kids and while Firkle disapproved, he wouldn’t let anyone give her shit for it.

Once he hit middle school, he stopped going to class. He’d follow his friends to theirs at the high school, or hang out with Karen in her classes. This trend continued until Karen graduated, and then he just dropped out of school by not showing up. 

His taxidermy took up a lot of his time, and he can do just about any animal. He kills for fun, no matter what it is, and has some giant tubs of acid in the shed in his backyard. Georgi doesn’t question him, just as loyal and loving to their brother as he is to them.

EDGAR

A Veined or Coconut Octopus, Edgar is Firkle’s familiar, as well as his “translator” for Cthulhu. They speak directly to Him in dreams, or during forced dreamstates at Firkle’s altars. Edgar is whiny, loud and dramatic, loves trash TV and eats his feelings. He eats enough for both himself and Firkle, who prefers it that way. While he can be obnoxious to Firkle, they are incredibly close. The only way to figure out if Firkle is actually dead is to check to see if Edgar is alive. However, if Edgar dies, Firkle will also die.

GEORGINA “GEORGI” SMITH

Georgi is Firkle’s twin, and the one living, breathing human being that he loves and is loyal to to a fault. He refuses to let anything bad happen to them, and hates that they became a vamp kid. He has to put up with vamp kid meetings at his house, and knows that they are close to Mike. They are a feminine-presenting nonbinary person.

QUICK FACTS

Firkle is a sociopath and doesn’t bother to hide it. He is manipulative and cruel and only cares about himself. Any kindness he shows others is usually fake and only to get his way, unless it comes to his twin sibling, Georgi. They are nonbinary and he will protect them with his life.

Firkle’s drug of choice is Dilaudid if he needs to calm down, and cough syrup when he’s too depressed to move.

He does have depression and is actively suicidal all the time. However, it’s a passive thought and he doesn’t do anything about it.

He has scars and tattoos and piercings, and loves every one of them. Corset piercings are a favorite of his.

While he has an ED, he doesn’t really have to worry about it, as Edgar eats enough for both of them.

He was an unplanned twin that was supposed to be parasitic but still came out under developed. His parents despise him.

He mostly smokes Pal Mals, not because he likes them so much as they were all he could get as a kid and he just kept on smoking them.

He dropped out of high school but technically not legally. He just stopped going at all and nobody really did anything about it.

Firkle Headcanons Masterlist

TAGS LIST

We Put Him Down In A Shallow Grave (Firkle Smith)

I’m A Murder Tramp Birthday Boy (Firkle Musings)

I Like Spiders Loss And Rain (Firkle Aesthetic)

Nestled Tightly In That Womb Beneath The Dirt (Firkle Closet)

The Path Into This Heart Is Littered With Corpses And Strewn With Body Parts (Firkle Headcanons)

I Want Death For My Birthday (Firkle Journal Entries)

Close Our Eyes To The Octopus Ride (Edgar)

You And I Are Like Siamese Twins (Georgi and Firkle)

Knives Shoved So Far Up His Ass He Has A Sharp Tongue (Knives)

Death Is A Beginning Not An End (Taxidermy)

If There Is Magic On This Planet It Is Contained In Water (Witchcraft)

Ph'nglui Mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh Wgah'nagl Fhtagn (Cult of Cthulhu)

Verses

Incarcerated Firkle AU - I Know They'll Come Up What I'm Owed Guilty As Charged (Firkle - Incarcerated AU) - Firkle went to Juvie at six years old for a triple homicide he only had a small hand in. Taking the blame to save Michael, he eventually did come to blame him a little bit. Scorn kept him company as he sat in solitary confinement for twelve years. The guards forgot about him so frequently that his hair grew out six feet while he was there. If it weren’t for Edgar keeping him alive, he likely would have died. Due to a clerical error, he aged out and didn’t go to prison, instead returning to South Park on his 18th birthday. They gave him a bus ticket and his belongings when he was first brought there, some spare clothes, and sent him on his way. Nobody was informed of his return, including him.

Vampire Firkle AU - Eat The Children Raw (Firkle - Vampire AU) - Like a typical Saturday night, Firkle found himself in a motel room with a stranger. They did some drugs, had sex, and then Firkle’s memory checked out. The next thing he knew, he woke up with a savage blood lust that surprised even him. Six people fell victim to his starvation before he saw fit to seek out Mike, in hopes that he would be able to help him. Firkle cannot eat human food, though he can stomach most drinks.

Land Of Zaron AU - The Boys Are Singing “Cut Cut Cut” (Firkle - Land Of Zaron AU) - Firkle is a Viking prince, and made to become the leader of them once Michael has passed. However, while he doesn’t wish death on him, he isn’t particularly concerned with his safety, either. He was brought to the Viking country as a young child, and may or may not be some kind of mercreature.

Superhero AU - Separate The Skin From Bone (Firkle - Superhero AU) - Firkle became a superhero not by choice, but by accident. Chosen by a man giving away artifacts that could turn you into a hero, he gained the power of destruction and decay, and uses it in the same way one might expect. He can only use his powers with his cat-o-nine-tails weapon, however, and only when transformed. He sees this as a “faggy” responsibility, but is still called to do something from time to time.

North Park AU - It’s The Art Of Superstition (Firkle - North Park AU) - Raised in a perpetual Hell-hole, there are few bastions of sanity for people not seeking to be swallowed up by the turbulent sky. Firkle has been following Michael and the other goths for a long time, if not more in the background. He doesn’t know how people work, and it gives him a lot of anxiety. He is close to someone named Anton, who nobody he knows has ever met. Most of them are convinced that Anton is some kind of imaginary friend or hallucination or something. Firkle doesn’t talk about him much.

Death!Proof AU - Relax God Is In Control (Firkle - Deathproof AU) - Firkle was the sole survivor of a violent bus crash, a sinkhole at a football game, and a car accident, all within two and a half months of each other. For some reason, he was unable to die, even when Death itself tried to take him. His deal with his deity shielded him from dying almost entirely, though it did not stop his body from being broken. 

Cryptid!Firkle AU - Tonight I'm Calling Out Your Name A Light Across The River (Cryptid!Firkle AU) - Being born into the woods near South Park, Firkle is a creature that kills indiscriminately, violently, and on sight. Well, only if he is spotted or he otherwise catches someone. He will say their name, call it out, whisper it, and the closer the voice sounds, the further away he is. The further away it sounds, the closer he is. If he is spotted in the trees he will kill you, he does not like to be seen. His eyes shine in the dark, an odd purple color. Nobody knows what he looks like because there has never been a survivor that escaped. Even if they outran him at first, he is faster than most humans and will catch them in the end.

Arborless Verse - I Know Now You Can nly Hurt Me 'Cause I Let You Get To Know Me So Well (Arborless Firkle) - Firkle is the husband of Pete, and often treated poorly and like a weapon and breeding machine. He and Pete had Ares, who is one of the few people he is allowed to communicate with. He is a killer at heart and all he knows is what Pete allows him to know.

Mindless Verse - All This Pressure And All This Pain And All These Sings Swim Through My Veins (Mindless Verse) - Firkle ran from Michael when he found out he was pregnant and took their twins with him. He has not returned, though he has thought about it. He spends a lot of his time fighting and killing to take care of his daughters. They are more or less safe from abuse because he has a reputation.

He does not exist in the Warlord Verse.

MAINS AND SHIPS

MAINS

@vos-estis-sal-tarrae​ - Damien - Let’s Get Wasted Til 666 In The Morning (Firkle and Damien - Vos-Estis-Sal-Tarae)

@butyoudidntbreakme​ - Mole - The Worms Crawl In The Worms Crawl Out (Firkle and Mole - Butyoudidntbreakme)

@nxwkid​ -  - Douchebag/New Kid/Alex - Mighty Mouse Is On The Way (Firkle and Alex - Nxwkid)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Michael - Your Idle Screams Bring You Nothing But Doubt (Firkle and Michael - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Henrietta - She Was Having Black Coffee And A Cigarette (Firkle and Henrietta - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Mike - I Said From Hell They Came (Firkle and Mike - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Mia - It's Not A Thirst But A Hunger Inside (Firkle and Mia - SouthxParkxAfterxDark

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Vic - Composed With Hate I'm Filthy Wretched And Foul (Firkle and Vic - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Annie - Speak Softly And Be A Big Bitch (Firkle and Annie - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Miles -  Can't You See Me? You And I We Are The Same (Firkle and Miles - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@throughxthexmist​ - Ella  - You Wanna Know That It Doesn’t Hurt Me (Firkle and Ella - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ -  Ryan - Nobody Loves You When Your Skin Is So Pale (Firkle and Ryan - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Count Ravyncrowe - V Is For Vampire B Is For Blood (Firkle and Ravyncrowe - ThroughxThexMist

)@throughxthexmist​ - Vladimir - The Light Of Day Can Keep You Up All Night (Clyde and Vladimir - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Stan - It's Your Life But Their Way Follow Me It's All The Same (Firkle and Stan - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Craig - I Can Tell You Want Some Company (Firkle and Craig - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Kenny - It's My Move My Say I Think I Like It This Way (Firkle and Kenny - ThroughxThexMist)

@counterunit​ - Tachanka - If You Want It You Got It (Firkle and Tachanka - Counterunit)

SHIPS

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Michael -  Maybe This Is Danger And He Just Don't Know (Michael x Firkle - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@counterunit​ - Tachanka - Will Death Be Our Last Kiss My Love? (Tachanka x Firkle - CounterUnit)

[katsukikitten]

Part one, no real warnings yet. Enjoy!

Bakugou's personal phone rings from the pocket of his hero costume for the umpteenth causing his skin to pop. All the while Kirishima allows his ruby gaze to fall over the hot head, having a good guess about just who is blowing up his phone. Worry snatches at Kirishima's heart for a moment forcing the question from his lips, even if it meant regretting it. 

"Are you sure your mom is okay?" Bakugou freezes in his step, inclining his head to fix a garnet glare at his so called friend. He sucks in a breath to yell, body tense and in a fighting stance before his phone blares again.

"FUCK!" He shouts into the night with only Kirishima and the moon to hear. The trees swallow his frustration as he rips his phone from his pocket, answering it so harshly the LCD beneath the screen ruptures. 

"What?! What the fuck do you want you God Damn hag?! I'm WORKING! Saving LIVES!" It had been a long time since he had called his mother hag, long enough there was silence on the other line for a moment. 

Then much like her son she takes a deep breath and now Kirishima, the moon and the trees know why Mitsuki was calling at such a late hour. Kirishima sighs with relief nothing is so dire as life and death, although for Mitsuki it is. 

"IF YOU DON'T BRING THIS GHOST OF A GIRLFRIEND OF YOURS I SWEAR TO KAMISAMI THERE WILL BE NO MORE NUMBER ONE HERO WHEN IM THROUGH WITH YOU. IM GETTING OLD I NEED FUCKING GRANDKIDS. THINK OF YOUR SWEET OLD FATHER HE AIN'T GETTING ANY FUCKING YOUNGER!" 

"That's what this was about?! Ma for the last fucking time I don't-" 

"You don't what? One of those hoes you sleep with has to like even your rude ass. Bring a decent one home." And with that Bakugou is left with the sound of three tones and a ringing in his ear. He grips the bridge of his nose, having no earthly idea of how to get his mother off of his back, let alone find a woman. The phone rings in his hand again, the screen filled with dead pixels and rainbow lines causing him hot to be able to see. Somehow it registers his touch as he goes from memory to answer. 

"What you fucking hag?!" He screams into the receiver. 

"Wow. Rude." You reply with a bite, "Just calling to tell you boss that I'm clocking out, dickhead." 

"I-I thought you were my mom." 

"Oh and that makes it better?" What an ass! 

"Fuck you." He growls, looking at Kirishima's watch, "You're clocking out way too early." 

"No, fuck you. I requested to be off by this time MONTHS ago. You can ask Eijirou-san, you approved it so he made the schedule accordingly." You quip, twirling one of your knives in your hands, "Besides I've been working waaay too long today. Oh and I found that perp hours ago." 

"What the fuck?! Why didn't you tell me hours ago?" 

"I fucking tried, you ignored my call. This was my third attempt." You slam the knife through the paperwork on your desk wishing it were the hot head's thigh. You rise as your eyes glance over the clock. If you didn't hurry this stupid phone call up, you were going to be late. You needed to sneak in before midnight. 

"Still too early for you. Normally you want the OT." He bites, causing you to roll your eyes. 

Gods you hated this guy. 

"Yea, well tonight is different." You'd pay in the long run for leaving so soon but tonight was special. She asked you to be there the last time you saw her and you promised. 

You never break a fucking promise. 

"Some subordinate you are bitch face." He growls then an idea pops into his head. 

Subordinate. 

As in you reported to him, as in Bakugou Katsuki was your boss. And well you had to listen to your boss to some extent and he knew you needed money, you tell him day in and day out it's the only  reason you would even dream to work with him. 

Although he has no idea why you are so hard out for cash. 

So he sets the bait, offering you a deal you can't refuse. 

"Tomorrow is your planned day off right?" 

"Yea what fucking of it?!" 

"I've got a special mission for you-" 

"No." You interrupt, already feeling the exhaustion of your seventy hour work week stacking up. 

"You didn't even let me finish you ungrateful brat. It will be three times your pay for half a day's work. Cold hard cash." The other side of the line goes silent. Licking your lips you think over his offer, fuck, that would actually help get your head above water. 

The light at the end of the tunnel. 

If only you knew how dark this tunnel was going to be. 

"Fine. I'll take your stupid fucking offer." 

"Promise?" His voice sounds a bit different, a little bit of a tease to it, as if he knows something you don't. 

"What are we in kindergarten. Yea I promise, fucking headass." With that you hang up, rushing down the steps of the agency building and into the cold air. 

Your phone buzzes with a text 

BakaBoss: Meet me at the agency, 11am sharp.

You roll your eyes, turning your phone to silent as you watch the nightly set of nurses do their normal routine. Barely making it in time for the security guard and head nurse to make their way outside by the one way back door for a smoke. Both too lazy to walk around to the front of the hospital, sticking a thin splintering wood block between the jam and the door, giving you easy access to the stairwell. When they were far enough away you slip into the door, sure to place the wood where they left it before climbing the stairs two at a time, racing the clock at the top half of the 11th hour. The janitor would have already mopped her floor and the only nurse on floor six was currently on the ground level half way through the small tobacco stick, she wouldn't be sticking her head into room 609 anytime soon. 

You draw in a deep breath, collecting yourself and forcing back the tears as you picked the lock, a skill set that not only were you amazing at but the very same skill that landed you here. 

And by here you mean stupid ass hero work all thanks to some "reforming" program by Izuku Miydoria. Still it was better than having to break out of jail in order to make cash, her bills weren't going to pay themself. 

You stick a stolen credit card in between the door jab and the door, right at the locking mechanism, although you could break out of just about anywhere, this would be the faster method of escape. 

"Hey, sis, I made it!" You say softly but with excitement, watching as she keeps her back to you. Her eyes wide from a mixed cocktail of chemicals and trauma, she stares out into the sky, counting the stars. 

It would be one of those nights where she was too warped to tell you were there. With a sigh you sink onto her mattress. If you could even fucking call it that. It was more like a box spring with a fitted sheet over top of it, you were still figuring out how you could sneak a mattress in. 

"I got you something." You say crawling to sit next to her cross legged, she turns to you and it's like looking in a mirror. Except one of you is covered in visible scars and the other is not. Hers are more than skin deep. Seeing her dull gaze never gets any easier, she stares through you for a long time before she does as she always does. 

Lifting her hand gently to cup your cheek so her thumb can slide over your scar. 

"How'd you get this?" Her voice is barely hers and it grabs a fist full of your guts pulling them downward. Everytime she asks that question you see the shine of a blade, a swipe of a strong hand and vision filled with blood.

Yours, there's but never hers. You like to tell yourself that's what counts but maybe you had a hand in breaking her. 

You clear your throat, pulling a bag onto your lap. 

"Nevermind that." You gently guide her hand away from your cheek and to her lap. When she makes no motion for the gift bag you force a smile as icy guilt collects in your chest. 

"It's for our birthday silly! Can you believe we are 26 today?" You place the pillow on her lap and her hands slowly go to the plush material. 

For a moment she has returned, flashing you a smile as she pushing into the soft material before she flickers out again. Like a light with just enough current to wink in and out of existence. 

Time passes and the clock strikes midnight, white clad shoes stomp against the polished floor signaling it was time to leave. 

"I'll try to see you soon okay?" You lean over kissing her hairline before grabbing at the old, flat pillow. Shoving it into the gift bag as you silently bound the room. Pushing the door open slightly as you slip the stolen card into the back pocket of your black jeans.  With that you are down the hall and through the backdoor without raising any sort of alarm as usual. 

Suddenly your phone weighs heavy in your pocket as you think of what kind of stupid errand that asshole was going to put you on. The stolen card sings in your pocket, begging to be used. So you slip into a bar to give it a good use. 

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

A blaring alarm yanks you from the bed in a sweating panic. Knife instinctively slashing the air before you send the blade into yet another digital alarm clock. Falling back into the mattress for just a moment's peace.

That peace doesn't last long once you show up at the agency. If anything is sours as you see Bakugou leaning against the bright white brick and in civilian clothes no less. 

"What's this?" You pick at his black dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his banded forearms.  He's paired it with a pair of black jeans, one knee ripped. Oddly it looks good together. Not overly dressed nor too dressed down. His vermilion eyes glide over your figure in your black body con hero suit. He sucks his teeth, hating this next part. 

"Called clothes dumbass. Speaking of we need to get you something fitting."

"For what? What exactly is this 'mission'?" 

"I'll debrief you later. Right now we need to get you new clothes." You laugh in his face before your rich expression turns deadly 

"With what money?" 

"Calm down, it's my treat Princess." He says with satire, the name sits odd on his tongue and even more odd in your stomach. He snatches at your wrist, "Come on before the stores get crowded and we get noticed." 

You find yourself in a shop filled with dresses and fancy blouses. All of which you hate. Bakugou seems to hate them too, too guady for his taste. Still he shifts through the soft silks because he knows his mother will love it. 

"Oi, you can't find a single decent thing here? I thought women loved shopping." 

"Yea for shit we like asshole." You hiss to him, having only found a pair of dark blue jean's. 

"Heh." He scoffs, rolling his eyes until he finds the perfect top. It looks decent and it could be your style. The one thing he learned about being undercover was to not stray too far from what looked natural or from the truth. 

"Put this on. While I find a necklace." He shoves the silky top into your hands and you look at the price tag. Suddenly anxiety burns in the soles of your feet soaring up to close your throat. 

"Bakugou. This is too much." Katsuki stops to glance over his shoulder, this is the first time you've used his name since he hired you three years ago. He sees your hand gripping at your bicep and he watches the rare tell sign that you're nervous as you chew on one of the scars that creeps onto your lip. He comes up to you, closer than he ever has been before, your senses flood with spiced caramel. 

"Oi." His voice is smooth, almost soft as he touches a ringed index finger to your forearm. You fixate on the shining black ring and your old habits have you thinking of six different ways to get it off of his finger. The thought soothes you as much as his voice surprisingly does. 

"I said I'm buying, remember you brat?" The teasing returns back to his voice before it turns gruff, "Now go change to make sure I like it. I'll be back in a second." 

A woman unlocks a small dressing room for you and once inside you hold your breath. Counting as you remind yourself that you cannot and will not steal anything of value while your boss was here. 

If you were any other person you would tap this Prohero's account dry, really rack up that platinum card you know sat in his wallet and sell the clothes marked up for a profit later. 

But even as much as you hated Bakugou, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

Instead you slip into the the outfit adjusting yourself this way in that as the neckline says enough without saying too much. The jeans curving against your figure in such a way doing as good as a job as your hero suit. You keep your steel toed boots as you step into the small hall with the three mirrors. As you turn this way and that Bakugou appears behind you, almost earning a knife to his gut. He forces the silver blade away before pulling out a necklace from a bag he just bought.  The gold chain is dainty, going through the top of the garnet making it seen as if it were a suspended droplet of blood. 

It marches the eyes that roll over you as he takes a step back before his harsh mouth breathes out a word. 

"Fuck."

Instantly it kills your mood as your lip pulls back over sharp teeth.

"Tsk. It's not that bad, God how do you get any pussy." You grumble, smoothing down the black blouse. 

"No, dumbass. You look...you look perfect." He stares into your eyes through the mirror, his smile growing wider as they wander over your scars and finally land onto that minimalistic drop pendant necklace. 

Over something you've never been able to have, something you always had to swipe from an unsuspecting neck and then pawn. 

"Now. I'm going to tell you here, in this store of crowded people so you don't cause a scene." 

"What?!" Anger already begins to bubble in your blood. The blades that kiss your flesh start to scream for relief. 

"From now on you have to pretend to be my girlfriend. Paparazzi are starting to swarm outside of this fucking boutique and my mom follows this particular trash tabloid since they love to use me as click bait. You just have to make it through dinner tonight and if shit goes south I'll pay you even more." 

[professional-benaddict]

How bout a fic later in a mob!au timeline? Peter being mobboss Stark's pretty pet for 2 years now and everyone is predicting Tony will grow tired and get rid of him soon. When Tony shows interest in another pretty thing, Peter kills him/er in a jealous rage. Going from straight-laced innocent pete to murder in 2 years just proves how much Peter really is the perfect pet for Tony.

THIS HAS TAKEN FOREVER IM SO SORRY SKSKS bUt here it is if you still want it anon babe ;-;

Mafia boss!Tony, 18+ sugar baby Peter, advisor Stephen, murder, manipulation, blood, guns and knives (and Tony being a bit soft but only for his boy)

“He left just now, Boss.”

“Which gun did he pick?”

“A Glock.”

“Good.”

“About 50 yards, Boss. He’s about to enter the apartment building.” Clint’s voice came through the speakers of the laptop on Tony’s desk. Besides the radio tab on the screen, which showed four connections, there was only one other tab. It showed an overview map with a red blinking dot moving steadily through the streets - the tracker that Stephen had placed in Peter’s leather jacket before the boy had headed out.

The red dot stopped by a building and both Stephen and Tony watched intently as they waited for Clint to update them. A minute passed before he spoke through the radio again.

The red dot stopped by a building and both Stephen and Tony watched intently as they waited for Clint to update them. A minute passed before he spoke through the radio again.

“He’s in. Quite the hacker, that boy.”

Tony smirked around his cigar before giving further instructions.

“Now, get on the roof, Clint. Steve, Bucky, your turn.”

“Yes, Boss.” Steve replied immediately. A minute later he spoke again. “In position by the main entrance.”

“In position by the back door.” Bucky confirmed as well.

“Clint? You got eyes on him yet?” Tony asked.

“Yes, Boss, he’s entered the apartment and has the girl at gunpoint. She’s unarmed as far as I can see. She’s on her knees and hands over her head. He’s saying something.” Clint narrated without any emotion in his voice. He had seen such scenes a thousand times by now, unlike Peter. “Peter’s shaking- I don’t know if he can do it, Boss. Shall we intervene?”

“Told you-“ Stephen tried, but was cut of by a sharp glare from Tony.

“No, do not intervene. Give him some time, goddammit. You are your itching trigger finger, Clint, fucking hell.” Tony snapped back and the radio fell silent. The seconds ticked by and Tony felt a few drops of cold sweat on the back of his neck. The Boss was growing impatient and was just about to bark for an update when Clint spoke.

“Peter did it.”

It was like Tony’s own child had taken their first steps, that’s how proud he felt, but instead of first steps then his pet had made his first kill. All Tony showed on his otherwise expressionless and cold face was a half smirk.

“You are an unbelievable manipulator, Boss.” Steve chuckled through the radio. “I’ll admit, I had my doubts, I mean such a sweet little thing like Peter? Sweet little Peter in oversized pastel sweaters and stockings killing someone? How are you gonna reward him later, Boss?”

“As much as I like the pastels, I think he looks amazing in all black. He even picked out boots two sizes too big and wore gloves. No prints and no trace for the coppers! I remember my first kill was much more clumsier than his- oh, he’s leaving now.” Clint informed.

“Shut it!” Tony barked, feeling a wave of possessiveness wash over him as he sat up in his chair. “Just bring him back already. Nat.”

“On it.” Natasha replied and rolled the car up to the apartment building. A minute or two passed before Steve spoke through the radio.

“I got him, Boss, we’ll be over in- Hey, Peter!”

“TONY!” Tony snapped his eyes up from his cigar to the laptop screen in front of him. It seemed that Peter had snatched Steve’s earpiece. “What the hell is this, Tony? You followed me?”

“Well, hello, baby boy.”

“Don’t ´baby boy´ me, you ass! What is going on?”

“I’ll explain everything when you get back.” Tony explained blandly before moving to cut the radio connection off in the middle of Peter’s protest.

It all started when their two year anniversary of meeting one another for the first time came around that Tony started plotting. He had done it to all of his pets in the past, but unfortunately very few of his pets survived long enough for Tony to even put them through it. After meeting Peter, Tony did not want any other pet in his life and put extra effort into protecting his favourite toy. Tony was loyal to Peter, but was Peter loyal to Tony? And how far would he go to have Tony? By putting Peter through his test, Tony would get the answers to those two questions.

After their luxurious anniversary retreat to Bora Bora, Tony had strategically pushed Peter further and further away from himself each day. He would deny Peter his company, the privilege of sitting on his lap during meetings and having his hand on his bony hip during deals, but worst of all, he denied the boy sex. After two weeks, when the hole in Peter’s pastel pink heart was gaping like a black hole in space, Tony had brought in the girl. She was a nobody, an associate to a rivalry mafia, but she was pretty, very pretty. The girl, Nora, was a tall and skinny one, with long blonde hair that flowed over her delicate shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face beautifully. Despite her skinny form, she had a perky ass and large breasts, which even had Clint and Steve gaping at her when she passed them in the halls of Tony’s warehouse. She was a beauty and an obvious rival to Peter in the game of getting the Boss’ attention and honour of being his pet.

Unsure of what to do and afraid to confront Tony face to face, a sobbing Peter had gone to his second closest figure in the gang, Stephen. He had poured his little heart out, begging Stephen to tell him what he had done to anger Tony. The advisor wanted nothing more than to tell Peter the truth, that it was all a test, but all he said was what Tony had strictly instructed him to do, which was to fill the hole in Peter’s heart with furious jealousy.

“That’s just Tony Stark being Tony Stark. He gets tired of his pets and gets rid of them. You know how he is? He isn’t a good man by far.”

“He is good to me.” Peter had hiccuped before correcting himself with a small voice. ”Was good to me…”

“He will get rid of Nora too, you can bet on that. No one around here is special, Peter.” Stephen had said bluntly, but on the inside he felt dirty for deceiving the sweet little boy. However, Peter dried his tears and sat up straighter, his eyes turning hard as a thought seemed to occur to him.

“Not if I get rid of her first.”

And that is exactly what he had done, surprising Stephen, Natasha, Clint, Steve and Bucky, but not Tony. He knew the boy, what he was capable of. Nora was nothing compared to Peter and Tony dreaded the time he had to spend with her to keep up the deception. The Boss was thrilled that he would never have to have her clammy hands on him again and could not wait to get the boy that he truly loved on his lap. But, based on Peter’s angry tone through the radio, he wasn’t gonna sit on his lap just yet.

Ten minutes passed and Tony heard footsteps out in the hall. It was an unspoken rule that one would always have to knock and get explicit permission from Tony to enter his office, but this time Peter ignored that completely and burst into the room, letting the door slam into the wall without care.

“Start talking!” Peter demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest to appear intimidating. Despite the leather jacket, the black hoodie, the heavy boots and dark jeans, which was a rare look on Peter, Tony was far from intimidated. Instead, he felt his cock twitch with excitement at the sight of a furious Peter. Nora never satisfied him like Peter could and Tony ached to have his cock buried deep in the boy’s heavenly heat.

Tapping his cigar on the ash tray, Tony got up from his seat calmly and made a hand gesture to Stephen who was still leaning against the desk as well as Steve and the others out in the hall.

“Leave us.”

Soon enough Peter and Tony were left alone. It had been almost a month since they had been together like this and Peter ached to be close to the older man, his Daddy, but he had to stay strong and hold his ground. The boy’s otherwise bright eyes were darker now, like they have been stained by what he had just done. Tony saw that same darkness in his own eyes every time he looked at himself in the mirror. In a way, it was a shame, that such a sweet thing like Peter would also have to have his eyes darkened and hands dirtied with blood, but it had to be done. One cannot survive in this sort of life without getting pastel oversized sweaters stained with blood or start to catch the hint of gunpowder.

Stepping closer to Peter, Tony wet his thumb with his tongue and wiped away a drop of blood from Peter’s cheek before he spoke gently.

“I knew you could do it, my baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Peter gaped at the man in front of him, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression before his eyes widened. It all seemed to fall into place in his head and the boy pushed Tony’s hand away from his face.

“You- you wanted me to do that… You made me kill her! But… why did you fuck her then? When I was here? I mean- Stephen said that-“

“I told Stephen to say that to you.”

“You’ve been doing this on purpose! Since Bora Bora, right? This- this was all a test? ”

“And you passed, baby.”

“You- you asshole!” In a quick manoeuvre, Peter retrieved a knife from his shirt sleeve and shoved it under Tony’s jaw. The Boss’ expression fell just a fraction, but otherwise he was completely calm, with his hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on Peter’s teary ones.

“Stephen didn’t tell me you took a knife too.”

”This one is mine.”

Tony hummed at that and smirked with pride again.

“I think I underestimated you, baby.”

“You sure fucking did.” Peter said shakily through gritted teeth, his jaw all clenched up tight as he swallowed thickly. Tony could feel the pressure of the cool knife on his neck lessen and soon it fell to the floor with a clatter. The boy collapsed into the older man’s arms with a sob. Holding Peter close, Tony inhaled the smell of Peter’s fruity shampoo and conditioner, loving the sensation of those soft curls against his skin. The boy fit so perfectly in his arms, his head tucked under his chin and skinny arms tight around his middle.

“Hey, hey. You’re no crybaby, Peter. Come on, it’s all right.” Tony shushed as he ran his large hand up and down the boy’s back.

“I-I’m no killer either…” Peter stuttered out, sniffling a couple of times. Wrapping his arms around Peter’s ass, Tony hauled the boy up into his arms. Peter made a little surprised squeak, but settled into the familiar position easily. This was his throne and letting his teary eyes fall shut, Peter leaned down to kiss Tony. Unlike their usual kisses, this one was soft, slow and sweet. There was no heated tongue nor groans in the back of throats as Tony fought for dominance over Peter’s delicious mouth. Instead, it was just a simple press of soft and delicate skin together which made both Tony and Peter feel all warm inside, all the way into their bones. Pulling away just a fraction, Tony whispered to his boy.

“You are a killer, my baby boy, and you made Daddy so proud.”

[xaphrin]

Obiyuki Bookstore AU? :3

[Look,it’s THATWEEK,and I didn’t do anything because… I suck? But here. Have 4k+ ofnonsensical backstory for an AU I nearly forgot about (and youprobably did too)]

“Letyourself in, why don’t you.” Obi looked up from the ledger infront of him and let out a small, annoyed breath. He set his jaw andwatched as his employers tried to wedge themselves into the tightshop that served as his home and base. Master and Mitsuhide wereenough to fill the space between his shelves and his desk, but Kikiseemed to add almost toomuchinthe ways of bodies, and they all half-spilled into the street.

Hisone-eyed tabby yowled at them and made a swipe at Kiki’s heel.

“It’surgent.”

“Ofcourse it is.” Obi closed his ledger and wedged a hand under hischin with another aggravated noise. Zen had always been his best allyand hisclosestfriend, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t get on Obi’s nervesfrom time-to-time. Especially when Zen seemed so willing to letShirayuki slip through his fingers. “Like every other mission yousend me on, Master?”Hisstare turned flat and he cocked his head to the side, expressionthin, watching them try to make room for everyone. “Please, makeyourselves at home. Would you like me to prepare tea for you? Makeyou something to-”

“It’sserious.”Zen moved closer to the small fire in the back of the store, making asmall amount of space for Mitsuhide and Kiki to fill. He stepped overa pile of books and settled onto the wobbly stool by the logs.“There’s been a… something happened and it’s… I need…”His tongue seemed to tighten, and Zen looked away, rubbing the backof his neck.

Obilifted an eyebrow. “Use your words, Master.”

Zen’shead fell into his hands, a broken sound escaping his throat. “It’sall my fault.”

Obicould feel his stomach drop and his heart sputter in his chest. Whatin the world was all of this about? His hand clenched and the scarslashed across his chest itched, as if his whole body was preparingto leap into action without his permission.

“Shirayukihas been kidnapped.” Kiki’s voice was clear and concise, gettingright to the point. She leveled her stare at Obi, somehow managing tosay every detail in that look alone, and gave Mitsuhide an indelicateshove to get him out of the way. “By guards from Tanbarun.”

Obifelt his stomach drop and his ears start to ring, drowning out thesound of the city outside his door and the last few tones of Kiki’svoice. All he could seem to focus on ws his own breathing as memoriesof Shirayuki filled the back of his mind. He blinked, turning thewords over in his mind with enough weight that his own body seemed togrow so heavy that he wasn’t sure if he remembered how to move.Kidnapped?Shehad just been in here last week, poring over the book he bought herin the south, and stuffing him full of her orange and spice biscuits.a few weeks before that, she had been pressed against his side by thefire as she spun haphazard retellings of Tanbarun folktales. It feltlike the world had been ripped from underneath him and he was lefthanging in the middle of nothing, simply waiting to fall.

“Itwas my fault.” Zen repeated, his words still muffled by his hands.“I shouldn’t have left her alone while Prince Raj was visiting,and I knew he was still upset, and…”

Obicould feel himself start to move without telling his body to do so.He wanted desperatelytobe angry with Zen. How could he be so careless when Zen knew the fullbreadth of Shirayuki’s history with Raj? And when Raj was stillslighted by Shirayuki leaving him her hair as she escaped? Zen knewallof this, and yet he was so… so stupid.But, in spite of all of that, Obi was still struggling to be angrywith his employer, especially when their top priority was savingShirayuki right now. He would find the time to be angry later, now heneeded a plan.  

Obiopened the draw in his desk and removed his knives, hiding them inthe folds of his clothes. Mentally he began ticking off a list ofthings that needed to be completed, while categorizing all the routesthe Tanbarun guards could have taken her. There would have beenbetween ten and twenty of the best guards who were most loyal to theprince, and that would have left them to stick to only the mostheavily traveled routes and the widest roads - especially for thecomfort of the prince. “Where is she?”

“Wetracked them as far as the moors that border the kingdoms.” Kikiwas the only one in this situation who hadn’t seemed to lose hercool just yet, and Obi was grateful for that small miracle. The moorshad two major roads, and one of them snaked through a swamp - thesmell would have been too offensive for Raj’s delicate nose, sothat left only one road they would be on. That was somewhere tostart.

“Shewas taken a few days ago.”

“Afew days?”Obi turned and glared at Zen, the first time he had let his emotionsget the better of him. His anger was finally starting to boil hot,bubbling under his skin until it threatened to break free in the formof sharp words and heavy fists. How could Zen be so careless?“Were you waiting for a formal invite to rescue Mistress, YourHighness?”

Zenat least had the decency to look offended. “We were trying to avoida diplomatic upheaval, and I don’t need your critique on how Ihandled the situation. It was the only choice I had to avoid anall-out war between the kingdoms over a- a girl-”

Obibit his tongue to keep from pointing out that barely a year ago Zenwould have gladly started a war if it meant saving Shirayuki. Butclearly things had changed between him and the kingdom.

“-Iam doing the best I can, Obi…” Zen’s back hunched at he staredat the floor. “But, I need you to finish this-”

“Youmean clean up after your mistakes?” Obi’s words had bitetothem, and he reached into a cabinet behind his desk to fish out hisemergency pack. “If you had thought through this with a little moreclarity, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“You’reright!” Zen stood up and threw his hands in the air. His voiceseemed to cut through the dust of the shop with the slash of a knife.“Is that what you want to hear? That I’m wrong and you’re right- about everything.You’re right, I should have handled this differently, and I didn’t.And now Shirayuki is practically in another kingdom, and I’m leftstruggling to fix the errors from my mistakes.” He gnashed histeeth and lifted those too-blue eyes to Obi’s and glared. “I’mnot here as a prince, I’m here as a friendaskingmy friendforhelp.”

Godsbe damned, Zen knew exactly how to say things that made him feelguilty. Obi glared back at him, muttering something rude under hisbreath.   

“Discretion.”Kiki let go of a soft breath and placed herself between them, tryingto steer them both clear of a fight.  She held out her arms andmet both of their stares with one of solidarity. “We need this tobe met with your usualdiscretion,Obi. No one knows who you are or why you’re there -  a bookpeddler traveling between cities.”

Obiscoffed.

“Itwould be best if no one saw you at all.”

Obigritted his teeth and looked around Kiki to meet Zen’s downtroddenexpression, the fight seemingly bled out of him until just thehollowness of his worry and failure filled him. Obi felt a twinge inhis heart, a small thread of guilt pulling at him. Zen had been inhis life long enough that Obi considered him like family - almost asif they were brothers. And just like any other siblings, Obi foundhim questioning his brother’s decisions more often than not. Zenwould make a fine ruler someday, but right now he needed to get hishead out of his ass.

Obiran a hand down his face and looked away. “I swear, you’rehazardous to her health sometimes.” He shook his head and movedthrough the rest of his small shop, picking up things he had storedand secreted away - in case of an emergency, like this. “When Ireturn with her, you’re going to have to prove to me that you won’tlet her get into any more damage with you hanging around.”

“I…”Zen tried to think of something pointed to say, but it seemed to dieon his lips. “Just get her back safe.”

“Mm.”Obi hefted a small bag over his shoulders and took his cloak downfrom a hook by the door. “I’ll need a place to rest on our wayback. The fall retreat by the river?”

“Takeit. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

Obipaused at the door and he turned around, meeting Zen’s face with aleveled expression. “I will get her back… but do not forget theconversation we had several months ago, Master.Don’tforget what I said.”

Zensighed and his shoulders dropped, the fight stripped from him. “Iknow.”

-

Shirayukifound herself teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Her mind was anumb fog of thoughts that held little substance, but seemed to bedrenched in sensation. Every bone in her body ached from a night ofhard riding, but she kept herself quiet, leaning back into the warmthof Obi behind her. He tensed just a little before easing into hertouch, but instead of trying to soften the ride, he instead drove thesteed harder, pushing it to its very limits as if he absolutelyneededtoput an entire country between him and the camp they escaped from.  

Shirayukibit back an annoyed sound, each muscle in her body aching with everyjostle from the steed under them. She had lost count of the hours ofnight they had sped through, the stars and moon overhead shifting sosubtly before disappearing into heavy clouds above them. It had beennothing but pitch-black for hours now, stretching around them in aninky darkness she couldn’t measure. Somewhere far-off a songbirdbegan it’s morning trill, the notes disappearing into the mist. Shecould see a thin line of gray inching over the eastern horizon, as ifdawn was clawing its way closer and closer to them. But, even with ashard as they had ridden and how careful they had been, Shirayukiwasn’t entirely sure if they had put enough space between them andthe camp of soldiers.

Thesteed started to slow down, pushed far beyond its limits for toolong, and if the situation wasn’t so dire Shirayuki would have feltmore than just marginally guilty for the beast. The three of themwould rest soon, she knew it. Obi turned off the road and onto awooded path, the branches and underbrush practically swallowing themwhole. A thin drizzle of rain had started to fall, splatteringagainst the leaves to hide their sound and spilling onto the earth,obscuring their tracks. A drop of water splashed onto her cheek andslid down her face. Shirayuki shivered, but Obi just pulled the oiledhood tighter around her head, shifting in the saddle to give her morespace to move.

“Itisn’t much farther, Miss. I promise that we’ll rest up ahead.”He pressed his mouth close to her ear, his voice a ragged whisperthat she had heard only a few times before. She stiffened in thesaddle, her back curling against his chest as he moved closer. “We’llneed a day or two to lay low, rest, and let the rain wash away ourescape. Then we’ll head back to Wistal and back into the protectionof your pharmacy. You have my word.”

Thatwas a lot coming from him. Shirayuki eased only a little, and feltthe bunch of his thighs press tightly under her own as he moved thehorse back into a swift trot. A shiver worked its way down her spine,settling in the pit of her stomach where it blossomed into a myriadof emotions she couldn’t quitename.“Will they find us? Out here, I mean?”

“Unlikely.We’re too far from a town, too far from the main road, and in adirection they wouldn’t think to look. It was safer to take us aways west before heading back to the palace - it throws them off ourtrail.” He turned down another path, this one narrower and moreovergrown, and let the steed slow down just enough to catch hisbreath. By now the skies had turned a dark gray, and a low rumblesounded in the distance, warning them both of an oncoming storm thatwas undoubtedly worse than anything they faced up until now. “We’llstill have to be careful though. No fires tonight. No candles.Nothing that could alert even civilians to our presence.”

Alone.In the middle of nowhere. With… with Obi.A week ago that had been a silly, girlish fantasy, but under thecircumstances it seemed… Shirayuki shook her head. Nowwasnot the time to be thinking about this at all.

“Where…where are we going?”

“Yourdashing prince lent us his fall retreat for the time being.” Obiseemed to grin behind her, adjusting himself in the saddle again.“And I fully intend on taking advantage of the time to pick my waythrough the royal stores of whisky.”

Shirayukilooked over her shoulder, watching his eyes sparkle with mischief andsomething that seemed playful. Her heart skipped in her chest,missing beats and fluttering too tightly against her ribs, and shewhipped back around to stare at the path in front of them. It waseasier to examine the shadows that seemed to fill all the spacesbetween the trees, than to look at that teasing joy in his eyes.Shirayuki could handle thoughtful silence, she stillhadn’tlearned how to combat her own emotions when he looked like… that.Silencestretched before them again, and Shirayuki listened to the call ofthe birds and the rain that spilled over the leaves. Obi finallybroke through the path to a modest, but stately two-story housewedged in between two massive trees close to the river.

“Yourcastle for the day, Mistress.”

Thehouse seemed so cold and empty, no bustle of servants running around.Only a few scraggly chickens poked at the ground before retreatinginto their coop as another rumble of thunder passed overhead. Butthere was no life, no other people, not even a dog or a cat. It wasjust them, and a reminder to her that they were - yet again -completelyalone. 

Obislowed the steed down as they approached the stables, and he swunghimself down off the saddle before helping Shirayuki down back onsolid earth. Her muscles cried in pain and her bones creaked andpopped with every movement, but she was happy to finally be on groundagain. She sent up a small prayer for little joys, and moved her bodyslowly, taking in the overgrown state of the lawn. Obi quietly pennedthe steed, thanking it and petting it as it to apologize for suchharsh treatment for so long. The horse just snorted and trotted away,drinking water and chewing on grass. Obi watched it for a momentlonger before taking Shirayuki’s hand and leading her up a smallpath to the house.

“Doyou have any injuries that need tending to?” Obi opened theservants entrance and led her inside to a quiet kitchen. “Anythingthat occurred while you were at the Tanbarun camp?”

“No…”Her wrists had been a little chafed by the rope rope, but therewasn’t much else. Well, perhaps her body needed to regain it’snormal range of movement, but that was nothing that a good walkthrough the house wouldn’t cure. A good walk and an hour ofquestions that suddenly needed answered. She lifted her stare toObi’s and watched as he shed a small pack and his own cloak ontothe table. It was then that the heavens opened up, pounding heavy,earth drenching rain against the thick glass of the kitchen.

“Ihave questions.” Her voice sounded small, drowned out my the noiseof the storm. “Manyquestions.”

Hisstare flicked to her own, mouth tilting to the side in a smile sherecognized far too much. It was a movement that said he would onlytell as much as he wanted, and when he was done talking, she was doneasking questions. “I’m sure you do, Mistress.” He paused,digging through the pack to pull out some provisions that had managedto stay dry. “If you want, you may ask them.”

“Butyou don’t promise to answer them?” Shirayuki curled her toes inher boots, waiting.

“Youknow me so well, Miss. What makes you think this changes anythingabout me? About us.”

Us.Theway he said it was a reminder of their friendship. A reminder thatthey had known each other for a long while, and had grown close. Thiswas part of him that she hadn’t learned yet, but it was still partof him.It didn’t change the man he was, or the man she had grown to know.It was another story she had yet to find the ending too, and itdidn’t mean that she didn’t want to know the ending. She shiftedagain, watching as he looked around the kitchen.

“So,you… you don’t sell books?” That seemed an astute assumption,no matter how silly.

“Ohno, I do.”He moved around her, taking in the state of the kitchen. A smallshelf scattered with preserves had caught his attention, and hepicked through the jars looking for something to eat. His eyes methers for a brief moment, a curious darkness gathering in them. “Iassure you that is myshop.Owned and managed by my own two hands.”

“Then…”

“It’sjust not my primarysourceof income.” He pulled down a jar of apple butter, and another oneof preserved vegetables. He finally turned around and looked at herfully, making sure the entire length of the kitchen was between them.It was as if the space gave him a bit of armor he would not have insuch an intimate setting. “If that’s what you’re questioning.So, yes.The shop is mine. I own it. I manage it. I sell books. Sometimes fromfar away places, sometimes from places a little bit closer to home.”

Sheswallowed, uncertain of how she should ask the next question.Shirayuki’s heart pounded in her ears and she watched him movecloser, each step quiet on the floor. Her throat was dry, but shetried to force the words out anyway. “Are you… a…”

Awhatexactly?An agent for the crown? How in the world could she think to ask himthat?

Thankfully,Obi answered for her, his eyes leveled. “My skills do not includejustbooks,Mistress.”

“Oh.”Shirayuki wished she could think of something more articulate thanthat, but words seemed to escape her. She had a hundred morequestions like whyandhowandforwhom.Shefound herself suddenly wondering about stories and tales that heundoubtedly had and what those were like. She found herself wantingto know more about this side of him - the side that she didn’t havea chance to learn about yet.

Andinstead of saying anything at all, she stared blankly into his face,waiting.

Obi’sexpression softened and he moved even closer to her, invading herspace as easily as he had a hundred times before. “You’re tiredfrom tonight’s ride.”

Shewas.

“It’sbeen a long day and I’m sure you have things you’d like to thinkabout… probably without me around.” He looked away, a hint ofshame hiding in his eyes. “Let’s find a bed for you to rest, andwe can talk more later.”

Heheld out his hand and Shirayuki felt her body react of its ownaccord. She slipped her fingers between his, watching his palmpractically wrap around her entire hand. She felt so small next tohim, like his entire being would swallow her whole. Slowly, shelifted her eyes and met his stare. His eyes were still that strikingshade of gold, watching each of her movements with completefascination behind long lashes. Her heart skipped beats again, andher memories seemed to be flooded with all the little, privatedaydreams she kept locked within her thoughts.

Inspite of everything that she was learning today. This was still herObi.The charming shopkeep that drank brandy and told low-brow jokes andbrought her books from far-away places. The same person who pressedclosed to her in the tight shop and taught her how to read a languageshe had never heard of before. The same person who inquired after herhealth, and told her all the ways she needed to take good care ofherself, because how could he lose a friend like her. Thiswasstillherfriend, a friend she had feelings for that had grown roots deep intoher chest and made her feel things she didn’t always understand.

“I…”

Helifted an eyebrow and watched her, his lips curling up at one side.“Yes?”

“Willyou… stay with me?”

Heblinked, as if shocked by that question, and his hand loosened itsgrip a fraction. “With you?”

“Ah…I… while I sleep, I mean.” Heat curled up her neck, staining hercheeks and bleeding into her hair. Just once in her life, she’dlike to say something to him and not have to awkwardly clarify itseconds later. “I… I don’t want to be alone. It’s dark andstorming and… ”

Tanbarun.

Theword hung unspoken between them. Somewhere in the back of her mind,Shirayuki knew she should have been quivering for her ownself-preservation, that there was a lot from her own experience sheneeded to unravel and process in its own way. That was the reason Obiwas here in the first place - because she had been kidnapped. ButObi… Obi seemed infinitely more important, and this new revelationwas just part of it. With Obi standing in front of her looking everybit the bookseller she cared for and the rogue she wanted to knowmore about, thiswaswhat seemed to be the thing she wanted to focus on. This was whatdemanded her attention.

Sheheld onto the folds of her skirt as another rumble of thunder inchedits way closer to the house. “Please? Just… just for a while.”

Obi’sexpression softened. “Of course, Mistress. Whatever you need.”His smile tilted to the side again, almost teasing as he took anotherstep into her space. The scent of parchment and brandy mingled withfinely oiled metal and fresh rain, creating something new entirely.Shirayuki could feel parts of her awaken again - the parts she hadnearly forgotten about in the long ride from the camp.

Hecurled his fingers under her chin, tilting her face towards his. “Andif you’d like, I will read to you to keep you company.”

[ikonislife]

Shame 2

Junhoe x Reader

Angst, Smut, CEO!Junhoe

Warning: Mature content.

Somewhere in between his haughty smirk and sultry whispers, you let yourself lost in a path of no return with the man who doesn’t love anyone... Or does he?

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Final

“I think the whole party heard you by now, love. Didn’t peg you as a screamer.”

His voice echoed across the dark empty room, uneasiness rising within the pit of your stomach but at the sound of the low growl of neediness commanding an answer, you had no mind to care for the curious way the walls seemed to be amplifying every sound.

“Sorry..I can’t help it… Shit…”

But to your disappointment, Junhoe pulled away leaving you feeling empty and cold from the lack of his tongue. You pushed yourself off the table, wondering what he had gotten up to but was met with perhaps the most mesmerizing sight, Junhoe leaning back in his chair, chest heaving heavily and you realized just how immersed he was, how far he let himself get lost in pleasing you. His lips coated in your nectar, nose too was glistening with wetness that made you want to lick it all off of him… And so you did. He sat still, feeling the desperation in your little fingertips gripping at his crisp white shirt, tugging away his loosen tie and simply smirked when he felt your tongue cleaning up every bit of yourself left over on his features. His eyes cold and piercing, staring you down with almost disdain and haughtiness but he did nothing when you settled on his lap, arms locking at the nape of his neck. Your lips needy, moulding and sucking at his lips then trailing up his nose, you lap at his intensely sharp jaws before sucking a wet spot at the base of his neck. It was only now that his hands returned to your body, gripping your waist so harshly you could feel the blooming of bruises already on your once flawless skin. He nipped at your earlobe, dragging his tongue down to your bare collar bone before scrapping his teeth against it, bitting then sucking no doubt leaving his own marking, claiming you as his. Junhoe leans in closer, that dangerous smirk teasing on his lips as he whispered something you’d never in a million year could conjure up even with that gutter mind of yours.

“Did you think you were fucking special?” Suddenly you felt bare, vulnerable and exposed even though Junhoe was no longer intimately making himself acquaintance with your body.

“What?” Hands grasping at your loosely hung straps, desperately to cover yourself with what little fabric he had left you with.

“Did you think you were special?” He growled once more, the sharpness of his eyes, that distasteful curl of the lips whenever he was disappointed, disapproving were all back as those beautiful features slashes at your every inch of skin. “A doll good for passing time suddenly thinks she’s a princess? Give me a break.”

“N-No…”

“No?” He scoffs and never before had you felt so inferior, so degraded and there is no describing the pain coursing through your veins. “Did you think I was going to take you out to a nice fancy dinner? And what, live happily ever after? You must be daff, insane if you think I would just hand over my status and money to some stupid girl that couldn’t keep it in her pants. If all it took me was a few charming smiles and a well-placed white lies for compliment, I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

Your heart sunk to the deepest depth they had ever been to, not even getting a glass of 1900’s exorbitant wine dumped on your head by that rich douchebag at your part time all those years ago couldn’t compare… Because this, this is a personal insult. At the least you know that pompous ass was only putting up a very pretentious front for the woman that was much too beautiful and graceful for the ugly person that he was. It was pointless drama over the wrong wine. 

Without commanding them to, not the tear you’ve been holding back not from pain but from the pleasure derived from the torture but bitter tears. Bitter because you knew you shouldn’t but did, bitter because you thought he cared.

“I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

The next moment your feet were already hitting the ground sprinting, you ran and ran but no matter how far, that hauntingly chilling sentence wouldn’t let you escape its cold fingers. No matter how much you tried, the contempt spewing from his lips, the dirty looks, you couldn’t escaped them. 

“I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

You screamed but all that came out was silent, a silent cry for help that only seemed to amplify the scorns and jeers. The hours long you had spent plastering your face with pounds of makeup wasted as the tears streamed down your cheeks. You thought the worst was over, the hurt had been done but what you hadn’t expected was where your feet had carried your dishevel self.

“Are you alright, Y/n?” A kind face, Mark from HR so gentle with that mesmerizing smile. “You look a bit cold, here take this!” 

A warm jacket wrapped around your shivering shoulders as he lead you across the crowded lobby, people smiled and greeted the both of you but non seemed to be shook at your Cinderella-eques self, not the princess at the ball but the one that had lead to her meeting with the fairy godmother. Something in the way his hand so tightly woven around your aching shoulder, the way he’d occasionally gave it a soft squeeze as if reassuring everything will be alright got you in a trance. So you let your eyes fluttered close, letting yourself get lost in the vast ocean that was his addicting mix of whiskey and expensive cologne. 

Mark is your fairy godmother.

“Look everyone, Y/n just came down from a “one on one” with the boss,” A loud cheer erupted along with whistles and catcalls. “We all know what that mean, don’t we?”

You couldn’t believe your ears, that soft voice that had been so caring suddenly raged with all the contempt, all the derisiveness the world could bestowed upon one person. You wanted to disappear, to blink and be back in your warm bed but when they opened, all you could see was sly smiles and gasps of judgment.

“Mark, what are you doing. No, I-“

“Don’t worry, Y/n. We all know what a good little pet you’ve been for the boss.”

No matter how much you pried, what force you gave, Mark’s hands around your waist holding you back for the world to taunt would only grew stronger. You begged but it went unheard as if a lonely leaf floating in the wind, useless and fragile, as if your words carried no meaning. Then at the height of it all joined the arrogant Mr. Koo with all of his scorn and condescending jeer.

“I can’t imagine what else you’d do had I actually tried.”

All you could do was screamed, screamed until your voice hoarse and throat sore. You screamed but their laughters always louder and before you knew it, your consciousness slipped through the crack of time and-

“Y/N. GODDAMN IT, Y/N. WAKE UP!”

Cold sweat breaking, you felt as if the weight of the word had just been lifted off your shoulders, as if you had just stepped away from the edge of a cliff.

“What? Irene? What are you doing here?” throat dries, funny enough you actually felt like you had just been fucked by the world as you stammered your confusion away.

“Well you screamed your ass off, so I came over. God, you’re drenched. Come on, let’s get these clothes off before you get sick.”

No mind nor strength to fight against Irene’s caring hands even if you felt sick to your stomach and wanting nothing more but to melt away into the night, your body limp as she tugs away the wet pieces of clothing and replaces them with fresh one. Only now did you notice the pants heavy in your chest and the shiver still coursing through your pale cold hands. Your mind hazy and has it not for Irene’s constant sweet chatter lulling you toward reality, you couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to distinguish whether this was a dream or the real world.

“I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about it so, drink this and get some sleep. We’ll deal with this tomorrow morning.” As understanding as ever, a mug of warm tea shoved into your hands and with a blink of an eye, Irene disappeared back out the door with one last understanding smile even though she probably has no clue what was going on in your brain. Although judging by the concern clouding those brilliant eyes and the questionable bit of the lip, Irene knows exactly the cause of your horrendous screams.

Somewhere across the city, across all the tax brackets and fortified private community walls, Junhoe finds himself tossing and turning with the guilt of words like knives eating away at his heart. Warm bed and heavenly soft blanket abandoned, he treks in search of the poison that will surely bring him sleep even if the price for a few decent snooze would be the hammering headache by tomorrow morn. As the cool breeze of a peaceful night brushing against his skin, he took a sip and marvels at the disgustingly polluted sky above with a sigh of disapproval. Not even a dot of stars, not even the moon could fight against the cloudiness as it shies away from the world below.

Suddenly but perhaps not unexpected, Junhoe’s mind flooding with euphoria as the lackluster sky above only reminded him of the insatiable craving growing deep within his heart to see once more the way your eyes shined so brilliantly as if they possessed the universe within them whenever a sweet smile was gracing his day, making it just a bit brighter. The way his name danced so beautifully even if the only two times he had ever had the pleasure of hearing you called him were either with the utmost respect during work hour and the sinful cries of overtime. Just the simple act of you uttering his name alone leaving his imagination running wild.

He wonders what it would sound like had you met at the age when first love was blooming and the only thing dictating his life was teenage hormone. Although if he must be realistic, you’d still be moaning his name by the end of the night so at least that part remained the same. 

Would it be any sweeter, had you been the first girl he had learned to love. Perhaps the rowdy days of high school is a rather bad example for the way his heart now seems to be singing your name but that feeling within his gut, the churning and fluttering, that is definitely reminiscent of the good old teenage days.

Would it be much more endearing had you met when he realized the love he once experienced as a young lad had done nothing to prepare him for the pain brought upon his young naïve self, mistaking that love can conquer all. Junhoe is certain he’d have been head over heels for your adorable self just as he is now and no doubt in his mind you’d have teach him a lesson or two on love. 

Nowadays, love for him resembles the sun… Not that he thinks of it as sunshine, daisy, and sweet honey but rather the sun to Icarus, the boy who flown too high. He loved and he flew, he was so high and he got hurt. It’s something grand, something magnificent but it’s also something impossible, something unobtainable. Happily ever after is only a fairytale and this cold, harsh life of a young CEO is anything but that as he closed himself off from all possibility of entrusting his heart away.

Your smile carried him to the moon and back but soon the cloud of solemn spread over the precious memories of happier days as those harsh words thrash about his consciousness. It was out of character, so bizarre the way he had behaved especially toward someone so special, the second those grand doors had shut out the fading clicking of your heels, Junhoe had collapsed, a shiver ran deep within his veins at the realization of what he had just done… He had turned into his father, worse, his grandfather. 

In no way was his father anything but the most perfect husband and dad in the world but the man he was at work, that person was in every way shape and form someone Junhoe aspires not to be. It was as if his father had possessed dual personality disorder, a kind loving man turned into a monster the moment the perfectly polished shoes and impeccable suit meticulously cloaked over every last bit of humanity he had. Junhoe despised the way he treated everyone as if they were simply dirt beneath his shoesm the scowl that was permanent upon his lips, how everything and anything could become personal.

Now his grandfather, the legacy, or rather stain as Junhoe and his father liked to remind everyone, the stain he had left behind was something of the unsavory sort, something his father had worked to the bones to rid and Junhoe still doing his best to not falling into the beaten path. He was for lack of better terms, a sleaze and as faithful as the second hand on a clock. Junhoe had been appalled, revolted by the words spreading on the grapevine of his womanizing way even before he had step foot into the company. He didn’t understand the flirty looks and sweet words being thrown his direction regardless of the gender, the disrespects he had thought. It wasn’t until his father had officially handing over the reign that the dirty past got dredged up. Suddenly his father action didn’t seem so harsh, suddenly the preconceived reputation of himself didn’t seemed so farfetched any longer.

It had been a near three years since his dad had left the throne for sunshine and Mai Tais by the beach with the love of his life, near three years since Junhoe ascended into this vicious world. He had been good, he swears on his life that he was much more than his predecessors, and everyone would agree. Yet the moment Junhoe saw the fear flashing in your doe eyes, so scared, so terrified of the monster that had shadowed everything he worked so hard to achieved, he knew he had lost it all to a few moments of irrationality. The way your shoulders shivers and body so small against the cold metal of the elevator instead of his arms… Your tears… Maybe Junhoe isn’t any better, maybe him trying so hard to prove otherwise to a world already fearing a person he isn’t did just the opposite… And this curse, the Koo family curse upon the men is something inevitable, something out of his grasp. All he could hope to do now is to mend the bridge he had so cruelly broken yet for reasons not at all unknown to Junhoe, reality as he suspects much grimmer than the last flicker of pipe dream that you’d still look at him with those stars filled eyes. The bridge, after all might be nothing now but ashes and lingering pain that he will never be able to erase because what woman would willingly give her heart to a man that could offer nothing beyond his dick and unkind words.  

Here’s a collection of Mr. Koo in suits to distract you from the fact that this part was waaaaay shorter than the first (:

[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

“A New Lease on Life” -  #55

55: Absolutes Part IV - The Dead Do Not Rise 

Warning: Kimber was a little shit in her last life and she's still a little shit in her new one. At least now she's a little easier to understand. BIGGER WARNING: This chapter has a massive SHTF cliffhanger at the end which will be resolved with the next chapter. If you're cliffhanger sensitive, you might ought'a put off reading this one until the next one's out, which will likely be at least two weeks. The good news? So far that's the only 'probable-cause-for-murder' grade cliffie you should find for a while. It's not just coming out of nowhere, either, it's been in planning since planning for this part of the story began. (FYI: read "since the story first began")

Honestly, I'll be pretty disappointed if no one leaves any angry-reader comments or 'how dare you?!' flames—it would mean I've failed to twang y'all's heartstrings sufficiently. That said, please don't kill me. I have kitties.

All Time Low "Old Scars / Future Hearts," Fireflight "Unbreakable," Survivor "Ever Since the World Began," Three Days Grace "Time of Dying"

Willsdale, Missouri, Aaron Willis' trailer

Day 3, evening

Dying sunlight filtered through the treetops, scattering patchy shadows across the half-dead yard. In the driveway, two women squared off – one tall and svelte with immaculate makeup and neatly styled auburn hair, and one mid-height and curvy with suspicious grey-green eyes. "Kimber Bryant?" the shorter woman demanded of the taller, who nodded. "Glad you could make it. Come on in." Without another word, Amber ducked through the front door of Aaron's home, letting the screen door close behind her.

Out in the yard, Kimber hesitated, clenching one hand painfully on the pair of battered metal dog-tags dangling around her neck. She turned back to her old run-down car—a relic too young to be a classic but too old to be anything but junk—contemplating making a run for it. She well remembered the mess she made of her life before checking out of it, and she remembered just as well the feeling of her own knife being held at her throat. Could she really trust these people? Could she really trust the woman who now lived her life? 'What choice have I got?' she asked herself, shaking her head in aggravated disbelief. Without another moment's hesitation, she stalked up the creaking wooden steps, through the screen door, and into a small, dark parlor that stank of cat-boxes and cheap cherry air freshener.

Behind her, the front door shut with a bang; it took all the courage she possessed to keep from bolting like a spooked cat. Again, she snatched at the dog-tags, forcing herself to meet the eyes of the three others occupying the room. One person was familiar if only in passing—Raphael's twin brother, Donatello, the lanky brains to Raph's brawn. The second was familiar as well, though not nearly as familiar as his counterpart—Aaron Willis, a rough and rugged local with a startling resemblance to Daron Williams. The last face was one she knew as surely as her own. After all, the face was her own, albeit with a new owner…an owner who shared the name she tried to disappear with.

"Kimberly Jane O'Bryan," Donatello greeted as she shifted on her feet, "or should I say, Caitlyn Marie Russel?" Even after two years, Kimber's birth name made her grimace and the name of her new used body made her throat catch.

"Don't call me t'at,"^ she snapped stalking over to the sofa to make herself at home, "or I swear, I'll deck ya. It's Kimber or not'in." Aaron's eyes volleyed back and forth from the three people engaged in a tense standoff, completely lost.

"Is this national talk over the rube's head day?" he demanded with a shrug. "Who's Caitlyn Russel? Who's this? What's she gotta do with anythin' an' why's she here?" Amber rolled her eyes and turned to remind him, but a husky, smoggy voice beat her to it.

"Yer Willis, right?" Kimber asked; Amber exchanged a concerned glance with Donnie over her shoulder. "Kimber Bryant. I'm from Donnie's world, dead an' brought back in a corpse like t'at one." The last was delivered with a sharp thumb-jab in Amber's direction. "T'at's my bawdy^ she's wearin', give or take~ a few pounds. She let it get skinny."

"You call this skinny?!" the other woman demanded, gesturing to her wide hips and full rear.

"I call it depressin',"~ Kimber retorted eyeing the brunette derisively. "Back when I was wearin' t'at, I had an ass t'at could kill an' the kinda hips a guy could really grab onto. How much pukin' did it take ya to lose'em?"~ Amber sputtered in disbelief, struggling to formulate a reply. "So guess ya got my temper but not my smarts, huh?" Donnie dove between them, latching onto the raging brunette before she could dive at the smug redhead.

"Ladies, please!" he protested even as his furious girlfriend seethed—seethed, fumed, and snarled, but made no move to approach her ill-mannered counterpart. "This isn't helping anything!"

"Actually, brain-trust," Kimber contradicted, her tone now surprisingly civil, "it helped jus' enough. If t'at was me, I'd'a~ been at my t'roat by now. T'a bawdy-snatcher's got a better head on'er shoulders t'an I ever did." Amber stared back at Kimber, stunned; the redhead shrugged. "What? First time I ever approached ya I gotta knife at my t'roat, can ya blame me fer bein' a lil' cawtious?"^

"You followed me to the bathroom!" Amber snapped back refusing to meet Donnie's horrified eyes. "From the first day I woke up in your life, I've been harassed, stalked, threatened, beaten, an' nearly killed by yer old pals!" She yanked at the modest neckline of her tee shirt, hissed in pain when she snagged a healing blister on her nails, and showed off a portion of the half-faded and mostly blistered tattoo. "Even now, people see this damned lizard an' wanna beat my arse just for wearin' it! Fer all I knew, you were gonna shank me or something!"

"…I'll go order pizza," Aaron mumbled shuffling out of the room. Donnie gaped after him a moment, turned back to scrutinize the two counterparts trading glares over the coffee table, then came to the same conclusion: they needed some time to clear the air and having company might not help. The genius made his way over to Kimber and tugged her to her feet; amidst sputtered protests, he impersonally patted her down to check for weapons, then pocketed her can of mace.

That done, he turned to repeat the process with Amber but found her voluntarily surrendering arms—or, rather, digging out all her hidden self-defense mechanisms and laying them out on the coffee table for him, all with a betrayed scowl. When she stopped, she smacked her sides, hips, then rear pockets to double check, then crossed her arms in defiance. He wasn't fooled. After dumping her assorted weaponry—a wallet of Donnie-exclusive throwing knives, a can of mace, and a rather dull utility pocket knife—into his cargo pockets, he held out one hand expectantly.

The recognition on her face melted into fear then into defiance—he wiggled his fingers, arching a chastising brow at her—she snorted in refusal. Finally, rolling his eyes at her, he bent down, snatched her by the ankle, and retrieved the final weapon from her boot sheath: the Buck knife she never went anywhere without. When he took his feet again, her scowl was well beyond betrayal and into threats of bodily harm. "Confiscated," he warned pointing the knife handle at her and swept into the kitchen with the women's loot.

"Dang," Kimber muttered staring at his retreating shell. "T'at one was my favorite."

It took the better part of an hour, but finally, the two counterparts were able to communicate with a somewhat civil tongue. Soon after, Donnie and then Aaron drifted back into the parlor armed with pizza and sodas, both watching the spectacle with a mix of morbid curiosity and trepidation. At first, Donnie pulled Amber onto his lap in the expectation he might have to restrain her; soon after, it became clear that the animosity was gone. Even without the threat of spontaneous violence, though, he felt more comfortable with her enfolded in his arms. It helped distract him from the facts that Kimber screwed his brother and that he was unable to save her life.

"To be honest, Kid," Kimber remarked to Amber after all the hashing out was through, "I'm surprised ya ain't after my head. I know what a shithole I made out'a~ t'at life, an' I know what a mess t'at left ya to wake up to." Now that her temper had cooled—or was it Kimber's temper?—Amber had no threats or biting accusations to hurl back.

"Takin' it out on you wouldn't do any good," Amber pointed out without emphasis. Why did so many people insist on calling her kid? She was in her thirties when she died! "We cleaned up your mess—Hun's never gonna walk again an' he's behind bars. Northpaw's dead. Lefty's locked up too, unfortunately…he insisted on taking the fall for Hun's injuries an' he won't see anyone who comes to visit. The Purple Dragons're officially disbanded, sans a few stragglers, an' the jack-wads on Hun's payroll have all been turned in. Daron Williams is in the clear, too, an' workin' off his hacking sentence." Kimber nodded gravely but said nothing. Amber hesitated, wary of overstepping. "Your death wasn't in vain, Kimber…we made sure of it. Everything you fought for, we finished."

For a time, Kimber seemed unsure of what to say; she held her silence tightly, staring a hole through her empty soda can and searching for something, anything. "Ya gotta prawmise^ me somethin'," she said when she finally found her tongue. "Keep an eye on Lefty fer me…Nort'^ was a maniac, but he was also Lefty's brother—he was all Lefty had, especially after Truman…" She trailed off, shook away the memory—a horrifically vivid memory of Lefty showing up on her doorstep still covered in his lover's blood, haunted, empty-eyed, and completely silent. "He's all alone, now," she continued shoving aside the memory. "He needs ya more'n he'll admit…an' Daron's the same…he's prob'ly a mess."

"I promise," Amber replied softly, chancing a weak smile. "Lefty an' Daron have been good to us…good to Mercy an' me, especially. We'll keep watchin' out for'em." The other returned the smile, though hers was more sad than faint.

"Since we've got all that ironed out now," Donnie started, "there's something that's been bothering me about the whole 'new life, new world' bit. Amber, Mercy, and you all received second chances after death, and Mercy's told me a friend of hers has a relative who experienced the same."

"Don't tell me," Aaron grinned, "her mother's father's sister's uncle had a puppy who came back as a goldfish?" The blond got a throw pillow to the face.

"Don't strain yerself, Willis," Amber snarked. "Mercy's workin' for a florist now, an' the owner's daughter has a cousin who got the same thing we did—he died an' someone else woke up in his body." Aaron grinned over at Donnie.

"See? Mother's father's sister's uncle." This time, he ducked the pillow thrown at him. "So yer lookin' fer similarities?" Fist poised to chuck something else at the smartass blond, Amber paused, considered his words, then lowered the empty soda can back to the table and looked to Donnie for confirmation. The mutant nodded.

"Well," Amber recalled aloud, "Mercy an' I remember some similar stuff—the smell of dust, ticking clocks, brightening an' dimming lights, an' a creepy whirring sound…"

"I heard a voice sometimes," Kimber grumbled. "A really frickin' annoyin' one, always whinin' about somet'in. —an' let's not forget t'at freaky empty void," she added in a grumble. "I must'a~ spent a year screamin' into t'a darkness wit'out any response—I din't^ wanna second chance. Not only did t'ey gimme one anyway, t'ey stuck me in some bitch who was cheatin' on'er reserves husband^ wit' a married cab driver." The other three cringed, and Kimber shot Amber a scowl. "Next time ya feel like bitchin' over t'a lizard in my cleavage, remember how bad cabbies stink an' try not to feel too lucky."

"I take it those are her husband's tags?" Aaron asked eyeing the twin metal tags dangling just above Kimber's rack, then purposefully letting his eyes drift a little lower. "Why're ya wearin' 'em? Ya never knew'im."~

"Two reasons." Kimber avoided his eyes, sure her cheeks were pinking underneath her powder. The blond resembled her childhood friend, Daron, to an extent that was disturbing, but already she could tell they had more in difference than in common. Daron would never have openly eyed her like that, and if he had, she probably would've busted his teeth in. Strangely she felt no urge to punch Aaron Willis…she wasn't sure what to make of that. "People expect a widow ta mourn, even if t'is one prob'ly wouldn't'a cared less; wearin' Jordan's tags makes people t'ink twice about askin' me about'im, an' since I hardly know a damn t'ing about'im, t'at's a lifesaver. T'at's only t'a excuse, t'ough."^

She fidgeted, finding herself again drawn to clutch at the tags and rub her thumb over the worn embossed lettering. "I don't know if anyone else is gawnna^ get stuck in t'is body when I leave it…an' I don't know a damn t'ing about what anyone else might be dealin' with." Finally looking up again, defiantly, she held the tags aloft in a pointed gesture then let them fall again. "T'is reminds me ta be mindful—to fix all'a~ t'a ways I used to screw up an' conquer all'a~ my old faults."

Amber winced, leaning into Donnie's shoulder for comfort. After all the time she spent cleaning up Kimber's messes, she never would have expected the other woman to have that much insight or that much heart. Clearly recognizing the brunette's reactions, Kimber sneered at her and lurched to her feet. "Ya may wear my face now, Scotty," she reminded Amber gruffly as she stalked to the front door, "but ya don't know jack shit about me an' ya never will. Stawp judgin' me an' staht cleanin' up yer own messes a'ready."^

"We came here to tie off her loose ends," Donnie warned her, one hand gripping Amber's hip to steady her; she didn't seem to be upset, though, so maybe he was the one who needed steadying. "We came to make sure her family and friends are alright. You know nothing about Amber, either, Kimber, so don't judge her either. She's already made great progress in conquering her faults, and in less than a year; how long have you been here?" Kimber halted, her fingers slipping away from the door handle.

"Two years now," she admitted quietly. "T'at's two years I never wanted."

"Maybe we could get you home for a couple days," Amber offered, leaving Donnie's lap to approach the other woman. "If we could get me here for a few days, surely—"

"NO." Kimber's answer, delivered in a sudden, harsh snap, made Amber step back a pace. "I wasn't s'posed~ ta come here anyway—Dead is dead, ya got t'at?!"

"But—"

"Dammit, I din't wanna come back!" Kimber burst out. Underneath the anger, however, something else came through…hurt. "I din't wanna second chance, not when I fucked up my first one t'at badly! I ain't gawnna screw up t'a natural order'a t'ings any more'n I a'ready have!"^ Even as Kimber seethed, struggled to control her outburst and staunch the burning in her eyes, Amber didn't back down; instead, she reached out, took the other by the shoulder, and uttered a single question.

"What about Raph?" That one question sucked all the hot air out of Kimber in one fell swoop. She turned away, opting to stare through the front windows rather than chance anyone else seeing her brimming eyes.

"What about'im?" she demanded hoarsely, her words thicker than ever. "I'm dead in t'at world, an'e din't want me even when I was alive. T'at's t'a end of it."^

"You might be surprised," Amber countered. "He's…he hasn't handled this well…he blames himself for your death." Kimber snorted in disbelief. "He knows the truth now, too…he knows you…loved him…" This time, Donnie urged Aaron to vacate the room, though they hovered in the kitchen listening in.

"Love." The response confused Amber, and she asked for clarification. "I still love'im, ya bleedin' heart. I never stawped lovin' 'im."^ The admission physically hurt; Kimber choked up. "Not t'at it makes a difference. I just wish…" Before something even sappier could sneak out, she steeled her nerves. "Ya said yer livin' wit' t'a brothers, right?" she demanded, and Amber nodded. "Well…when ya get back, when ya see'im again, just…I guess just…" She trailed off, torn between saying too much and saying too little. A hand on her shoulder startled her back to herself.

"I'll tell him you're safe," Amber promised, "and that you're thinking about him and hope he's well." Unable to even speak, Kimber nodded, gingerly patted the hand on her shoulder with one of her own, then shrugged it off. Amber followed her out to her car, noting absently the stars peeking through the evening fog and gathering clouds.

"Are ya gawnna tell Bert—I mean Bart?"* Kimber's question caught her off guard. "He—he took a big risk hirin' me…t'is gal wasn't qualified, an' I ain't either, but I need t'is job…" She sighed, leaning on the cold hood of the car; Amber joined her, but she didn't argue. "Bitch-face wasted all'er money on'erself an'er stanky cabbie, an' all'a Jordan's money was wiped out by hawspital bills…by t'a time I was released, t'is ol' heap'a junk was all I had, t'at an' t'a lil' bit I could fit in t'a back."^ A sniffle broke through but neither acknowledged it. "I'm livin' in t'a—t'a hotel outside town…an' most'a what I'm makin' is goin' ta pay off t'a homewrecker's debts. I ain't what I used ta be…I'm tryin'a~ straighten up, but…it's just…"

Amber considered the other's words silently, staring up at the night sky overhead. She well-remembered how hard it could be to make it in Willsdale; she remembered struggling to make ends meet even with a decent job and fighting to pay off the monstrous medical bills intent on crippling her the rest of the way. Do we expect these things to change by wakin' up, an' suddenly, there they are? All I need's a starting place an' nothin' ever seemed so hard.* "It's hard," she admitted aloud when it became clear Kimber couldn't. "You put everything you can into doing things right, an' you fight to conquer your own weaknesses…then every now'n then,~ you find out you haven't really made as much progress as you think…an' you wonder when yer going to screw up again." Another choked sniffle snuck through the silence; shiny trails split Kimber's cheeks, running her makeup and gleaming in the moonlight.

"I'm sahrry,"^ Kimber blustered scrubbing her cheeks dry. "Apparently t'a bitch I'm wearin' was a crier. T'at ain't me! I ain't a crybaby, I'm a hothead! I just can't get used ta t'is…"

After almost a year of living in Kimber's body, walking in Kimber's hoochie-boots, and seeing first-hand what Kimber's life was like, Amber was relatively sure she had a solid idea of who Kimber was. Kimber was rude, ill-mannered, obnoxious, and abrasive, and by all rights, was surely not the sort of person anyone would enjoy being with. Still, one thing made no sense…if she was so horrible, why did her friends consistently take her side? Why did Daron defend Kimber when Amber called her callous? Why did Lefty nearly fall apart when he found out Kimber was dead? Why, if Kimber was so horrible, did Raphael tear himself apart, even now, and hold himself accountable for her death?

At that moment, Amber saw a little of herself in Kimber—she saw the heart behind the tattoo and the soul behind the snark—and she was speechless. If she was Mikey, Amber would probably have given his characteristic 'mind blown' gesture; because she was Amber, though, she offered a figurative olive branch.

"I'm not gonna tell Uncle Bart," she promised quietly. "I have a feeling he already suspects it, though, so you may not need to tell him, either. He's…" She paused, searching for adequate words and searched the heavens for familiar patterns. "He's always seen more than most people do," she settled for, "whether something we couldn't believe or couldn't understand. If he hired you, he did so because he knew you needed the job an' you could be trusted."

"Ya sound so sure'a~ t'at," Kimber mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I am sure of it." Amber winced, scrunched her eyes shut, and reached up to clutch her forehead; all the stress of the day must have triggered a headache. "Listen, Hon, this town's not easy to make it in an' a lotta~ people can't hack it. Even so, a sickly kid who sees things, a crotchety immigrant most people can't understand, an' a half-crippled college dropout all made it in this town…an' if Uncle Bart, my Gran'da, an' I all made it," she grinned at the surprised glance Kimber shot her, "then so will you."

"…half-crippled?" was the only thing Kimber could get out.

"Apparently," Amber teased nudging the other in the side, "I got a wild hair an' jumped in front of a bus. Unless ya ask people who really know the story, though, they'll tell ya I was clipped by a drunken frat-boy in his mama's minivan." Kimber cracked a smile at the joke, although it was a weak one, and slid off the hood. "Talk to Bart," Amber urged following suit. "Tell'im yer livin' in Methlab Motel an' you need'a pick up extra hours to get out.~ He won't let ya down." Let her down? Please. The man would most likely clean all his junk out of the loft over the pub an' insist on renting it to Kimber for peanuts. If Amber knew her family, too, they were sure to take the other woman under her wing, and in a small town like Willsdale, a support circle was everything. At one time, the thought would have horrified Amber; now, however, she realized the truth. If Bart Devon saw Kimber as worth his time, then she wasn't about to hurt their family.

After the two counterparts bid their goodbyes, Amber stood in the yard watching the dust trail from Kimber's car fade in the distance. Again, another twinge of pain lanced through her head; again she clutched the tender skin. Some aspirin was surely in order.

Day 4 – Not long before Dawn

By the time Donnie and Amber woke again, the night's rain was long gone, leaving only mud and fog in its wake. Perhaps because of how long Donnie kept her just on the verge of exploding last night while the rain pounded on the rooftop - the reason for which he never really explained to her - Amber's head was absolutely splitting. Even with that headache, she felt relieved—calm and full of hope.

Once the first pot of coffee was brewed and half-drunk, she gathered a few items together and led Donnie to the back porch. "Come walk with me?" she asked him. He hesitated, glancing back into the kitchen. Already he could feel the fog condensing on his skin in cold dew that slithered down his neck like an unwanted grope. And the coffee…they'd be leaving the coffee behind! Granted, it was lousy coffee, but still…

"I don't know," he admitted tugging at his neck and fighting the whine halfway to his lips. Coffee… "It's still dark and it's pretty marshy…we really need to start working on heading home anyway." She blinked at him, lost. "You only got a week off, remember? Your family's safe, Aaron's safe, and Kimber's not going to be a problem…why risk staying any longer? Wait…why are you smiling like that?" The soft smile was followed up by a chuckle; her smaller hand caught one of his and tugged him down the steps. With every step away from the coffee pot and comfortable kitchen, his heart broke a little more.

"It'll be fine," Amber promised leading him across the yard to the edge of the treeline. "One more day won't hurt." '…especially if I can get rid of this farkin' headache,' she added in her own head. "Dee, you've never hesitated to show me your world." She tossed a teasing grin back at the mutant trailing helplessly behind her. "Now, let me show you mine."

At first sight, the hill she led him up seemed just like any other hill in the area—just a tall, grass-strewn mound of rock and dirt looming over the fog-strewn hollers. The top, however, was nearly vacant of life—no trees, no shrubs, nothing but grass, weeds, and tall dolomite crags. Together, the odd couple lay out a tarp and old horse blanket and settled in to watch the horizon, one listening with half an ear and the other telling him everything she could about the world she called home. Little by little, the sun rose, gleaming pale through the fog; moment by moment, the world below them came to life. By the time bright morning light painted the treetops and burned through the haze, the couple on the bald knob were silent, their words and breath stolen by the sight before them.

"I've seen this before." Donnie's words, delivered in an awed half-whisper, were never meant to pass his lips; even so, they were true—as true as the birdsong awakening all around them, and as true as the warm solidity of the stone beneath them. He scanned the world below—searched for something he couldn't name and found it straight east, just beyond the far edge of the locust grove bordering Aaron's land. A…a pile of rubble? No, that couldn't be right…it was… "That's where your house was, isn't it?" he asked gesturing to the ruin half-taken over by the surrounding land. "You had roses...roses and…dead grass?" That made even less sense, but he remembered it clearly—recalled in great detail the crunchy brown turf set off by lush rosebushes.

Amber was already stunned that he correctly pegged her old home turf. To hear the rest—a reminder that the only flowers she ever managed to grow were roses and her yard was chronically neglected—sent her blood cold. She glanced off in the direction he stared; she couldn't see any roses remaining and the whole area was already becoming overrun by locust saplings and weeds. "Aaron told you?" she attempted, but the genius shook his head, visibly frustrated and reaching for something he couldn't quite see.

He knew what he remembered—he remembered seeing that very view, countless times in countless dreams. He remembered teasing Amber about her perpetually dead yard and fooling himself he could smell her roses a mile away. So many dreams happened here, on this very hill. Childhood games of hide-and-seek amongst the craggy rock formations…lazy summer afternoons sunning themselves on the grass…rainy days stretched out on that same old crazy quilt, bare to the sky and tangled beyond hope…he knew this place.

"So no one told you," Amber summed up startling Donnie from his thoughts. "You must've figured it out on your own—yer bright like that." She cast a wary smile at him. "Course, yer also talkin' to a dead gal. Stranger things have happened, right?" She sobered. "The school's been rebuilt," she admitted. "Aaron's takin' me by later to see it…I'm afraid of what I'll find, but I've gotta go…I just have to." Donnie had no answer; he couldn't break himself from the thoughts spinning through his head—memories, dreams, hopes and wishes and fears…

"Do you believe in destiny?" The question came in a near-whisper but struck with the impact of a scream.

"Huh?" The moment it was out, Amber cringed; so much for effective communication.

"Destiny," Donnie repeated leaning back on his palms and taking in the scenery below. "You know, the idea that some aspects and events in life are predetermined and out of our control…like…" His throat worked around the words trying to stay behind his teeth. "The odds that we would ever meet—two people from entirely different worlds—was it pure chance, or do you think it could be—"

"Fate?" Amber finished for him with a slight frown; his eyes rolled aside, meeting hers askance. "I don't believe in chance or coincidence," she admitted. "I've always believed everything happens for a reason even if we never know that reason…but on the other hand, I don't believe in fate or destiny either. With fate, there's no free-will; with no free-will, what's the point in ever aspiring to anything beyond your lot?"

"That makes no sense," Donnie deadpanned. "If everything happens for a reason, there has to be a predetermined reason for everything – that's an argument for destiny. If there's no preset path we follow, then everything's just up to the roll of the dice and may not have a purpose. You contradicted yourself completely."

"Maybe," she admitted with a teasing smile and turned to lean back across his legs. "Maybe not. Some folks look at life like reading a novel, some see it like writing a novel, an' some of us see it like one of those crummy choose-your-own-adventure books." Donnie blinked down at her, thought it over, but still didn't follow. "I believe that we write our own stories but they can sometimes take us in directions that make no sense to us until after we've passed them. In the moment, we may see no further than 'the market pays better than the gas station' or 'the gas station is closer to home' but those decisions will shape our futures. If you're working at the market, you won't be working the gas station when it's robbed, but if you're working at the gas station, you might meet a hot trucker an' get hitched in Vegas."

"You're a nut," Donnie teased ruffling her hair.

"Takes one to know one," she retorted with all the maturity of an eight-year-old, then her eyes softened. "Besides…if meeting you was my destiny, that would take out all the impossibility—all the wonder and mystery. No matter whether I died in utero or died in a nursing home with my knockers at my knees, we would have found each other no matter what." The genius shuddered at the visual but said nothing. "We were a shot in the dark, Dee," she reminded taking his hand. "We weren't just a checkmark on some celestial to-do list…we're a miracle." A slow smile crossed his face and his eyes softened—proof she managed to calm whatever nerves were bothering him before. "What brought that up anyway?" she asked. A streak of muddy brown followed the smile; he avoided her eyes.

"N-No reason," he insisted to no avail. "I was just…just thinking about…uh…string theory?"

"Whatever ya say, Speccy…whatever ya say."

Day 5 – after Noon

The back door drifted shut with a bang. In the parlor, familiar racket emitted from Aaron's TV; onscreen, some nameless boss resembling an unholy amalgamation of Jabba the Hutt and The Incredible Hulk stomped around a battered landscape in pursuit of…a little girl with pink pigtails? Donatello scratched his head. Gamers were an odd bunch.

"Where's Amber?" he asked Aaron. Before the mutant left for the hike he just returned from, Amber was still asleep—trying to sleep off the headache she never kicked the day before. "Still sleeping?" Aaron's character exploded into a spray of blood and gore, triggering a frustrated groan.

"I guess," the blond answered as the loading screen cycled. "She never came inside, so I figure she's probably still sleepin'. Why?" Donnie glanced pointedly at the clock by the TV on his way to the back door. "Shit, I'm s'posed to be leavin' for work in an hour…lost track'a~ time." Resigned to tackling the boss again later, Aaron saved, quit, and shut down his Playstation, and ducked outside to check on Amber. Instead, he found the shed door standing wide open, Amber motionless on the mattress, and Donatello frantically trying to rouse her. "What's—"

The question fell short—Amber wasn't just still, she was too still—too still and too pale—stranger still, a dark, nasty bruise sprawled from her cheek up to the loose hair fallen over her face.

One man frantically checked her vitals—BP dropping, pulse faint, temperature below normal—the other scrambled back against the wall, refusing to believe what he was seeing. Amber was sleeping—she was just sleeping, she had to be! Frustrated and afraid, Donnie yanked his goggles down for a closer look…

He stilled, falling back on his heels his face contorting in open horror. "What?" Aaron demanded, rushing to his side. "What'd'ja—"~ Donnie lifted a hand to her face, gingerly pulling her hair away from her forehead. Aaron's stomach lurched—he bolted out the door, retching onto the grass.

In the shed, Donnie stared through the impossible sight previously hidden—a compound fracture, bleeding and bruised. Fractured—the parietal plate was visibly crushed inward—shards of gleaming white perforated her skin. Donnie's fists clenched, his knuckles pale against the canvas of his trousers. Her skull was fractured…her brain was hemorrhaging…this was surely the wound that killed her once, the fatal injury that brought her to his world. This…this couldn't be happening… Heedless of the blood slicking her skin, he tenderly brushed a fallen lock of hair—a blue streak purpled from blood—behind her ear, tracing along the edge of the injury…an echo of the injury that killed her.

Just like it was yesterday, he remembered the day he brought her to his father—remembered how the slightest touch to her brow made her hiss in pain even with no injury there—remembered his father relating to him and his brothers the sudden, grisly way she died—remembered her confessing she often woke with a throbbing pain, a psychogenic echo from her previous life. She died in this world…the dead do not rise…he should never have brought her here.

'We write our own stories.'

At the time, he was distracted by other things—memories of dreams, knowledge he shouldn't have, sunlight highlighting the curve of her jaw and shimmering in her eyes…

'We're a miracle.'

Maybe…no surely…perhaps…

Right as Aaron shuffled back into the shed, Donatello went unnaturally still—his trembling stopped and his eyes hardened. Hands steady, supporting her head on his thigh, he eased Amber onto her side, tugged at the waistband of her night slacks, and exposed a small, blotchy patch of brown skin—a faint birthmark right under the waistband of her briefs. For whatever reason, that mark seemed to give him answers—answers and determination. As though in agreement, her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes shifting behind their lids—a sign of brain activity if he ever saw one. "There's still time—Need chalk, charcoal, something I can draw with!" The demand spewed out at twice his normal pace sparked an equally rapid response. In a matter of moments, the seals of the portal sprawled along the inside wall in messy vivid spray paint; another moment of incantation and they gleamed with unearthly light. Without a moment's waste, Donnie hoisted Amber into his arms, carefully cradling her head; without ever looking back, he bolted into the emptiness.

Completely lost and even more afraid, Aaron stared blankly at the yawning portal in the wall of his shelter. It seemed familiar—he saw something like this before, perhaps years ago on TV… With a shout of frustration, he smacked himself on the back of the head for wasting time and took off in pursuit. Fuck it…he lost Amber once, he wasn't going to just give up on her again! Even as he sprinted toward the faint light at the end of the tunnel, he broke a long-held conviction—he gave in to a habit he always believed pointless…

For the life of a friend, he prayed.

...and with that I’m going to sit back, relax, and wait for the angry-reader comments to come in. Really lookin’ forward to it, don’t let me down!

UP NEXT: The Choice Between Darkness and Light

Chapter List

Notes:

* Bert Devonne / Bart Devon – Recall that though Amber and Kimber are essentially the same person in two different worlds, Kimber's family and Amber's family are markedly different. Kimber recognized Bart Devon, as he's the counterpart of her estranged uncle Bert Devonne.

** "Do we expect these things to change by waking up and, suddenly, there they are? And all I need's a starting place and nothing ever seemed so hard." – from "Whatever I Fear" by Toad the Wet Sprocket. That tune is a pretty good depiction of the mistrust and wariness Amber and Kimber have for one another.

WORDS

^ Jersey/Backstreet, ~ Midwestern Twang or general

^T'— in a word – this word has a th- in it but she's dropped the h. ^T'a – the ^Ta – to, note the lack of an apostrophe. ^Bawdy – body ~Words ending with -in' – this word ends with –ing. ~Lose'em – lost them. (no, Amber's not really skinny, she's somewhere between curvy and overweight. Kimber's just intentionally being an asshole. ~I'd'a – I would have ^Firs' time I ever approached ya I gotta knife at my t'roat, can ya blame me fer bein' a lil' cawtious? – The first time I ever approached you, you stuck a knife at my throat – can you blame me for not trusting you? ~Out'a – out of ^Prawmise – promise ^Nort' – Northpaw, or rather, Norton Jackson. ~Must'a – must have ~Din't – didn't ^Cheatin' on'er reserves husband – Caitlyn was married to a man in the army reserves and was having an affair behind his back. ~Wearin'em / knew'im – wearing them / knew him ^People expect a widow ta mourn, even if t'is one prob'ly wouldn't'a cared less; wearin' Jordan's tags makes people t'ink twice about askin' me about'im, an' since I hardly know a damn t'ing about'im, t'at's a lifesaver. T'at's only t'a excuse, t'ough. – People expect a widow to mourn even though this widow wouldn't have cared; wearing Jordan's dog-tags makes people reluctant to ask me about him, and since I hardly know a thing about him it's a lifesaver. That's just the excuse, though – there's another reason, too. ^Gawnna – going to ~All'a – all of ^Stawp judgin' me an' staht cleanin' up yer own messes a'ready. – Amber honestly kinda deserves this. "Stop judging me for my faults and start fixing your own." ~S'posed – supposed ^I ain't gawnna screw up t'a natural order'a t'ings any more'n I a'ready have! – I refuse to screw up the natural order of things any more than I already have! ^I'm dead in t'at world, an'e din't want me even when I was alive. T'at's t'a end of it. - I'm dead in that world, and he didn't want me even when I was alive. That's the end of it. ^I still love'im ya bleedin' heart. I never stawped lovin'im. – I still love him, you sappy moron. I never stopped loving him. (Did you really see that going any differently? Raph's a heartbreaker, really.) ^Bitch-face wasted all'er money on'erself an'er stanky cabbie, an all'a Jordan's money was wiped out by hawspital bills…by t'a time I was released, t'is ol' heap'a junk was all I had, t'at an' t'a lil' bit I could fit in t'a back. – Caitlin wasted her money on herself and the cabbie she was cheating with. All of Jordan's money was spent on hospital bills. (Recall that Kimber was in the hospital and woke from a coma to be told 'your husband didn't make it.') By the time I was discharged, this crappy car was all I had to my name, just the car and what little I could fit in the back. (Kimber spent a good while living out of her car.) ~Tryin'a – trying to ~Every now'n then – every now and then, occasionally ^I'm sahrry – I'm sorry. You can see especially here that Kimber still has a long way to go before she's completely eradicated her assumed accent; since she developed it at a young age, she may never be able to completely get rid of it. ~Sure'a – sure of ~A lotta – a lot of ~Tell'im yer livin' in Methlab Motel an' ya need'a pick up extra hours to get out. – Recall Casey, April, and Amber's visit to New Willsdale, when Amber argued against them staying at the motel in Willsdale? This is what she based it on. Basically "tell him where you live and ask for more hours—he'll help you out." What Amber’s not saying, here, is that Bart’s likely to increase Kimber’s wages as well as her hours. ~Track'a – track of ~What'd'ja – what did you

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 6

Here comes the fight scene ;-)

Find this on wattpad

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

Mare POV

Spontaneity is quickly replaced by determination. I enter the ring in a fluid motion enabling me to set forth web lightning the moment I face Evangeline. Caught by surprise, it makes her stumble. Still uncannily elegant, she manages to stay upright, but her defense is weakened enough for me to strike a second time with a flash of sparks which grazes and burns her forehead.

Her reaction is quicker this time, as if out of reflex. Metal scraps fly at me, disorganized enough so I can create an electrical barrier to protect me. I dissolve it fast and the shards fall to the ground.

Evangeline grins at me. “Not really fair, Lightning Girl. I haven’t consented to this duel yet.”

I smirk back. “You’ve always been the fairer fighter of the two of us.” If playing with me instead of outright killing me in the Bowl of Bones could be called thus. “Do you want to bail out now?”

She brushes off the taunt of her valour like a gentle breeze, flipping back her slightly dishevelled braid. “Barrow, I’ve waited ages for a chance to re-match.” To demonstrate her verve, the metal pieces around us move with a flick of her wrist. If she wants to scare me, I disappoint her. I crack my knuckles and give off sparks in reply.

“I’ve improved greatly myself, Samos.” Current flows through my body like the frustration, rage, and nervousness I’ve felt all day and with a tap on the floor, I release another surprise attack from my feet. Fortunately, I don’t wear rubber soles.

Evangeline is prepared better now but the ring is too tight to allow much dodging of such a broad charge. She dances in her corner, evading some but not all electrical branches I’ve unleashed. She almost smiles when she faces me again, eye to eye with a well-aimed pulse lightning. She ducks while spinning but the lightning burns her relentlessly and she falls to her knees. I hear the air, the ground and her armour sizzling from the residues of my electricity. It buzzes in me as well. So far, I did a good job as I barely had to move though I still wish to run. Instead, I smile at Evangeline who’s getting up, not defeated but bruised nonetheless. I keep grinning, walking backwards to keep my eyes on her. “Maybe Elane can lick your wounds?”

Evangeline only raises her chin, looking down her nose at me. “She does, and frequently. Jealous?”

Her tongue can be as sharp as her blades. My mistake. I used her messy love life as a taunt, forgetting I haven’t drawn a better lot.

All because of him.

I grind my teeth to banish the thought of Tiberias and clench my fists which are crackling with voltage like ball lightning.

We circle each other. Evangeline scans the ring, her throat bobbing. My mouth twitches. I didn’t emit such a broad web lighting only to attack her, but to shove away her metals as well. Certainly, she’s able to pull it back but she’s too fair for that. Out of the ring, out of the game. But I know I can’t rely on her fairness.

Despite my agitation, I’m the one baiting her now and she responds accordingly. Several times, she feints an attack yet draws back again while her armour ripples and changes shape continuously. It’s supposed to be a menace but I don’t intend to get closer to her anyway. Instead, she uses her armour to create new weapons, sharp and spiky things she hurls at me.

I dodge the most of them and she accelerates her frequency of charging at me until I’m surrounded and have to use lightning to block her blades. It’s not easy. Although I gained new skills with the other electricons, I still fight mostly with brutal strength whereas Evangeline controls metal with a dangerous precision which she probably has learned from making dresses and crowns as a hobby. I try to find a pattern, like when she formed splints into creatures, but she’s subtler today, moving each piece on its own orbit. I increase my speed of both my body and my ability. Tipsing around, I feel the sweat on my skin. I have to risk an attack and I release strong web lighting in her direction and promptly, tiny knives enter through the hole in my defense and cut my arm. But my opponent doesn’t fare better. My aim is perfect and enough of a surprise to strike true. Evangeline protect herself with her arms up and her armour changes into a shield floating in front of her.

I realize. Ignoring the pain in my arm, I unleash another charge and again, Evangeline uses a shield in defense. It’s confirmation enough but I need a plan first: With the conductive the metal around her, her armour is useless against an electricon; I could electrocute her anyway.

I manage two attacks in fast succession and she can’t evade both of them. Her right arm isn’t protected by a shield and it shakes when my lightning hits it. She bites her lip in pain but I gloat for a second too long and Evangeline strikes back: A mace-like metal thing is about to pierce my stomach and I can only throw myself to the ground and kick at the spiky ball, disintegrating it with a surge of voltage. Its pieces scatter and I watch them fly out of the ring, threatening to damage innocent bystanders. It wakes the lingering memory of Shade stabbed to death by a diverted magnetron’s needle. I gasp, fearing for the people around me but they’re lucky and splints just clatter on the floor.

Frozen by the old ache and crouching on the ground, I must offer an easy target. I have to force myself to rise, only to realize the hurt is physical as well. Evangeline has already scored some hits since several spikes are buried in my left leg and blood soaks my trousers and drips on the floor.

I wince and summon lightning in my fist, if only to use the sizzle to keep me focused and standing. It doesn’t help. Evangeline pulls the spikes out of me and blood gushes out. The sudden loss of blood makes me too dizzy to contain the electricity. Sparks fly off and vanish. I stumble and need all my energy to remain upright as I face another pattern of Evangeline’s needles dancing around me. I bleed more as I dodge as best as I can but it’s a lost cause to try to run in the tight space. Between painful steps I gather electricity for one last charge with my lightning. Evangeline won’t expect it, neglectful in her defense while she watches my unelegant tripping. I feel the current in my fists, ready to release it, but a new projectile comes my way, urging me to step back with my injured left leg in the moment I throw the lightning at her.

Surprise is no advantage when my aim off from wincing in pain. Instead Evangeline stops toying with me and grants me her whole attention. No longer trying to be subtle, her spikes merge to one huge wedge knocking me over and pressing the air out of my lungs.

The world turns black and I hear Evangeline say, “I win”, without waiting for me to yield, as Akkadi did. I don’t rise again. My energy has left me and all I feel is the ache throbbing in my leg and my pants tacked to my wounds, crusty from dried blood. Inappropriate as it is, laying on the floor of a gym full of soldiers is exactly what I need. I don’t care for the commotion and I’m still seeing stars when someone bends over me, muttering something about being a skinhealer. He’s supposed to be careful but it still hurts when he removes the pant from my leg. My sight returns slowly as he starts to heal me. I see silver glitter above me and startle to find Evangeline bending over me.

“Careful,” the healer – Reese, I remember – warns me. His soothing hands numb my agitation and panic as well the pain while I assess my surroundings again. I suppose it was Evangeline who cut open my pant for Reese and now she has the decency to care about her defeated opponent. She seems truly worried, if not only for Farley who stands at the outer edge of the ring, glaring at her.

Reese is almost finished when the shouting starts and a heat wave crosses the gym.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?!!” he roars.

Instinctively, I crawl away but I still feel the fire in Tiberias’s wake. Evangeline is quick enough to get out of his way but Reese isn’t so lucky. Tiberias grabs his collar and his hands scorch Reese’s shirt. Tiberias’s still shouting when Farley enters the ring and helps me up. She should’ve better barked at Tiberias but I take over the task. I walk over my own blood spread on the ground, right into the blazing heat around him. Reese must be sweltering from his assault and this needs to stop. I touch Tiberias’s torrid arm, just long enough to send a shock of electricity through him and it does its purpose. He lets go and stumbles back, startled to see me up and about, now unharmed despite the blood loss, and blistering with sparks of anger.

“Don’t hurt the one who healed me!” I scream and suddenly he looks lost and beaten.

“Mare … you’re alright, that’s great. But he was looming over your naked leg and I couldn’t – “

“Don’t be such a possessive ass!” I shout. “I do well without your misplaced worry.” I turn away, surprised to notice that Evangeline is still there. I wonder why since I expect Tiberias to turn against the causer of my injuries after all. Instead of being scared, she appears strangely smug with her arms crossed in challenge.

It’s Farley who snaps. “Calore!” She steps forward and brushes my hand for a second. I pull away but stay with them. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t attack our esteemed skinhealers,” Farley continues. Meanwhile, Reese has slumped down and has to make do with an ice pack. “We’re relying on each other’s support here. Silver temper tantrums are uncalled for. You understand, your highness?” Farley finishes her reprimand.

Tiberias catches himself. “General,” he says respectfully, then bows to me. I have to look away, but Evangeline is still grinning.

When Farley and I finally leave the gym, having gotten Reese another skinhealer and new pants for me, Evangeline runs up to us. She ignores Farley’s pointed gaze and extends her hand to me.

“Good match, Barrow.”

I gape at her for several seconds but she’s unusually patient until I finally shake it.

“Indeed, Samos.”

“I’ll not be as brutal in the next one,” she proposes. “General Akkadi already scolded me for it.”

A laugh escapes my throat.

“I am cooperative, Barrow,” she insists but her face loses amusement.

“To what cause?” I ask.

The corners of her mouth twitch. “My own, I hope. You don’t suppose I think you like this situation? I rather assume we have a mutual interest here.”

“Is that so?” sneers Farley. “Excuse me, your highness, but we’re not here for individual wishes but to win a war so we can enable the liberation and legal equality of the Reds.”

“But individual wishes are the cause of everything we do,” Evangeline replies and pauses. It’s surprising to hear this from her. “Mare,” she starts again, “Tiberias came to look for me as I’ve stolen myself away. But I have no need of his attention. Whereas you – “ she shrugs.

“We have a mutual interest to stop your wedding, you claim?” I ask. “I fear our opinions aren’t decisive in that regard.”

She seems both smug and guilty. “I’ve hoped to convince some people today. Unfortunately, I’m easily … dismissed.”

Right, I’m not relieved by her idea to beat me up to antagonize Tiberias, so I scoff at her. “Sure, Evangeline. I’ve seen your manipulations at work often enough to believe otherwise. To my chagrin.” A part of me regrets the words, realizing she’s just trusted me with her own heartsickness. I lower my head, but I can’t bring myself to take back my words before I turn and leave.

“You follow me like a mother hen,” I say to Farley when we reach the administrative tower again.

“As you apparently need someone to keep an eye on you.”

I stop with the hands on my hips. “Go mother your own child.”

“I wish I could,” she utters.

We stand in silence awkwardly and I curse myself for this new lapse. I shuffle my feet. “Sorry. It’s – I want to go home. Or at least to the base. But …”

“We’re here for a reason, aren’t we? So we can’t just leave because we feel lonely?” Farley sighs and brushes my shoulders. “That doesn’t have to be true, Mare. We just talked about taking care of each other.”

I nod.

“Then take care of yourself first. And don’t forget we’re not here forever. I want to see our family again, too.”

I hug her, longer than I intend to. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself,” she reminds me, and I think she needs the embrace as much as I do.

“The same goes for you,” I say.

“We’ve done what we can here,” Farley says, shuffling her papers. “I don’t expect to stay here much longer.” She looks satisfied with her notes, at ease in her office room with the sunlight gleaming on her short hair and the glass objects on the desk. I crouch on a chair, watching the setting red sun behind her. “I haven’t relocated those recruits for nothing. And actually … Mare?”

“I’m listening,” I reply but I still stare into the sun, squinting. “And then, what?” Despite what we’ve achieved so far, it feels like we’re only beginning. It seems like the war between Norta – or what’s remaining of her – and the Lakelands will become more real than it ever was. “What will we do about the new royals sprouting from the ground?”

“It’s – “

“Don’t say it’s classified information.” I sigh. “Intrigue leads to nothing and there’ll always be blood. Our blood.”

Farley cocks her head. “I wouldn’t say intrigues are useless. Remember how much has happened so far.”

“You mean we should just assassinate them, like Elara did with Tiberias the sixth?”

“We can’t just kill everyone, or we would’ve done it already.” She looks up and blinks, as if shocked of her own words.

“You needn’t be afraid of microphones or cameras, I’d know if there were any,” I say.

She snorts. “Still surprising how versatile your ability is. Unless there’s someone with super-hearing.”

“Are we competing in paranoia now? Because I always feel watched in this place. Like when everyone saw Tiberias’s theatrics in the gym.” I must be blushing again and focus on my feet.

“Your love-life has always been a kind of public one,” Farley comments, back to her papers. I’m not in the mood for teasing.

“Not everyone can be as secretive as you.” I retort pertly.

She doesn’t take it light-hearted either. She bangs her ball-pen on the desk, and her expression turns dark.

Right. Right. It was hardly a secret when she was –

I stand up in a rush. “I didn’t mean …,” I begin but she remains silent despite her obvious anger. “I’m sorry,” I admit, and go to the door. Another glimpse reveals she’s still frustrated.

“I’m okay, Mare,” she claims. “Go if you want, we’re not here to supervise each other.” It’s my cue to leave.

I idle along the corridors, torn between weariness and restlessness. The memory of my injuries lingers. I curse myself for my need of attention and I decide I should rather read a book. Corvium lies below me as I pass the windows to my room. Although the city buzzes under the sunlight, it still feels stifling to me. Like a coffin I want to get out of. I yearn for my family and the forests of Winghill, the Piedmont base, instead I’m staring at black walls.

It’s when I feel a familiar warmth engulf me and it chases the cold from my bones. I know he’s behind me and I let him simmer for a minute, yet I’m afraid he might just leave again. But he’s still there when I turn.

Tiberias looks guilty and lost and it both annoys and pleases me. He shouldn’t be proud of his actions and I stare him down, hoping to equal Farley’s glare.

“You can’t just attack people.”

He lowers his head in admission. “I apologize -”

“Apologize to Reese.”

“I did, but I can see you’re even more angry,” he insists and he’s right.

I smile faintly. “You know why I’m angry with you. But such behaviour doesn’t help.”

“Can I not be worried about you?!” he exclaims. “Seeing you hurt and bleeding after all that has happened? These people could do anything to you!”

I can’ help cackling. “These people? I thought they were your allies? But you can’t trust them?” I sigh dramatically. “I suppose it was a good decision not to …” I stop myself because he approaches me, grabs my arms and breathes heavily. His head sinks, just a few inches from touching my brow.

“You were right.”

It hardly feels satisfying, so I don’t know what to say - what does this acknowledgement change? For the moment, I allow myself to enjoy his closeness, to just see and smell Cal, the man I love, and no one else.

He’s the one to let go. I look up to meet his ember-like gaze. “And?” I whisper. “Are you fed up now? Will you keep the promise you gave me and choose me and the Guard instead of the crown?”

Would you run with me again, away from here?

His lips quiver and my bravery vanishes. I don’t wait for his objection, for another disappointment, another dismissal of my and any Red’s wishes. If he’s ready to give me a different answer, he’ll know where he can find me.

[markiplier-nsfw]

Anti and madness

Anti is a demon, he was created by a man named Sean McLoughlin or more famously known as jacksepticeye the Irish let's player known for screaming until his fans ears were ringing. Anti wasn't a mean demon, but he had a darker side despite being the evil side of Jack, that side of Anti named it self madness. Madness was cruel and had no morals when it came to anything. Anti had made a deal with Jack when he first showed up that he would help him with videos making the fans go crazy, if Anti got to come out every night to try and find a way to get his own body. After a year he found a ritual that would give him his wish. Ever since Anti got his body he would often hear a distorted whisper telling him to do horrible things. He learned that the price for his body was a virus that would be able to take over just like he would when he was trapped inside Jacks head, madness would always try and come out when ever anti's boyfriend Mark would be near him. Anti met Mark when he was first manifested, still in jacks body, he accidentally snuck into Marks house thinking it was empty and needing a place to hide from the rain that was soon to fall. When he crept into the master bedroom he saw pair of dark eyes and pink floof from under a blanket, Mark didn't do anything but stare at him making Anti self conscious though he didn't know why. Anti had just walked calmly up to Mark and gently pulled the covers to see the inside of his wrist was marked with a green eye with a black Iris bleeding black goop, marking him as anti's mate. "Nice to meet you my queen." Anti said in a smooth calming voice. Mark couldn't understand why he wasn't freaking out and screaming at this man to get out, instead he was wanting to beg this creature to never leave him. "I know your wondering why you are enjoying my company especially since I just broke into your house, well as you can figure I'm a demon, no I won't hurt you in fact you are my mate. I know you are going to be a little off put by that but-" he was cut off by a hand under his right eye the one that the mark was based off of. "Heh, don't worry about the black septic it won't hurt you." "I don't know why but I don't feel scared, I don't really want you even be this far away...." Anti grinned showing his two top fangs, he moved so he was against the headboard with Mark straddling his lap. "Can you tell me about being mates?" Mark asked hiding his blush in Anit's chest. "Heh heh, well I will never grow tired of you, I will always love you, and I will never ever want to hurt you, I'm not saying I won't do it on accident, I still have some human flaws but I promise I won't ever do it on purpose. That was really sappy.." "I liked it. Even though your a total stranger to me I feel like is a crappy fanfic that angsty teens read." That was the first time he saw his queen. When ever Anti gets too touchy with Mark madness tries to get control, most likely wanting to hurt Mark. Madness never told Anti anything he only spoke about getting control. Anti never thought that would happen, he thought he could control madness but he was wrong. Madness had been getting stronger and one day he took over when Mark was coming over leaving Anti to only see what he was doing. Madness sharpened the kitchen knives and waited for Mark to come in. "Anti? Hey you home? Anti?" Mark was looking through the house searching for his boyfriend when he heard a voice speak. "Call me daddy baby girl, I bought you an outfit try it on for me." Madness pushed mark into the master bath with a bag holding a dark green Japanese school girls outfit. He put it on over his black lace panties and walked out to be grabbed a forced on the bed. He gasped not used to such harsh treatment. "Woah, Anti please be easy." "Haha it's not anti baby girl." Mark got uneasy and went cold. "Madness?" He asked in a shy voice, anti had warned him about his dark side before but reassured him nothing would happen. "Why yes, nice to meet you, queen." Mark tried to struggle when he heard a click and felt cold metal around his wrists. "Now we are having a talk, I want to get visiting rights, you're my mate too." "Wait, what?" "What did you think, did you really think I would hurt you?" Madness asked actually concerned, he turned Mark around so he straddled Marks front. "Baby, demons can't do any harm to their mates, you are anti and i's whole world. I wouldn't EVER. Please don't be scared." Madness caressed Marks cheek and unlocked the cuffs holding Mark tightly to his chest. "So, I have two mates?" Mark asked in confusion. "Heh yes, I need to find that spell anti had, he was meant to be mean but as you know he isn't exactly a carbon copy demon, so I happened. Everyone has a dark side, the only ones without are demon mates, you." Madness explained, setting Mark on the bed and searching the book case. "He left it here." Mark crawled under the bed and grabbed the book opening to the correct page, he had studied the book when he got bored sometimes. "It says you need human blood, a lock of my hair, and some septic. The septic under your eye will work." Mark got a bowl and put everything in while having madness lay on you floor. He followed the instructions and saw a hand shoot out of anti's chest followed by the rest of madness. "It worked baby girl, I have my body!" Madness kissed Mark cradling the back of his neck, only pulling away once Anti woke up. Mark was panting and moved closer to Anti seeing him watch the encounter with a smirk. "So, madness isn't evil, he has a body, and I have to share Mark. Hmm, I don't know you might have to prove you can handle his needs." Anti teased making Mark whine with need. Mark started to get really hot squirming in between the two bodies he was sitting on the bed with. "I think the baby needs some attention she's getting fussy." Anti grinned at madness teasing Mark slowly moving his hand to Marks bottom and squeezing him making him moan. Madness placed his lips on the right side of Marks neck facing his back to Anti as he took the left. They both bit into Marks neck with their sharp fangs drawing blood and making him wither and sob from the flood of pain and pleasure. The moved to lay mark down with his ass up in antis face. They ripped off Marks clothes and spread his legs starring at his ass. Anti was the first to spread Marks cheeks and eat his ass making him cum from the hot rough tongue on his prostate and madness rubbing all over him. "Look at that, I wonder how many times we can get that pretty little cock to weep." Madness cooed lifting Marks head to fuck his mouth with tongue. "Hey madness how about you fuck his mouth and I fuck his ass with cock rings on." Mark could only whine as Anti started to shove fingers in his ass only coated in a small layer of spit. "That sound great, how about taking turns with those two holes and each time he cums we switch." "I can agree to that." Anti moved to get cock rings letting madness finger Mark as he sucked on his rim. The already had two loads from Mark before the moved to fuck him, Anti slowly sliding into Mark making him beg to more as he cooed at the man and rubbed his back. Madness was quick to follow opening Marks mouth and slipping the tip of his cock into his whimpering mouth. Mark started to sucking wanting to choke on his new mates cock, he waited until madness pushed his hips to flush to Marks face bumping his nose to the v of his hips making him gag with tears in his eyes. Once madness pulled Mark back by his hair and only left the tip in Anti snapped his his and started to pound Marks ass. Mark gasped around his masters cock as his daddy roughly pounded his ass. "Mmph suck it baby girl, suck my cock as you get fucked in your pretty little ass. do you like that? Do you like sucking my cock wrapping your pretty lips as your tight little hole is stretched around another cock just like mine?" Mark moaned and whimpered, squirming around madness as he cam crying out when the both pulled out. "Hi baby boy, you ready to take another round." Anti cooed sweetly petting Marks hair away from his face, Mark cursed demon stamina and restraint from cumming. "Aw don't worry you got two more to go and then your done." Mark whined as he felt madness ease his way into Mark and slowly started to fuck him as Anti pulled his head down and forced him to just swallow around him. Anti slowly fucked his throat as madness took slow hard thrust against Marks prostate. Mark couldn't control the noises or tears that came from his oversensitivity. He wasn't even cumming anymore just leaking more precum. As Mark gave into pleasure he had white noise cloud his ears. He couldn't even whine when he felt them pull out a sit him in between each other. His mates moved him to rest his legs around antis waist and his head rolled back onto madness's shoulder. They took off the cock rings and spread some more lube around Marks rim and on their dicks, moving Mark to place his legs on the inside of antis elbows they pushed into him at the same time having to cover his mouth to muffle his scream of ecstasy. They imidiatly started to pound into him not letting him adjust to the stretch causing him to sob and writher in their arms. Soon Mark felt the warmth and fullness of cum filling him giving him a little bloat from the extra load. "Mark? Mark? I think he passed out." Anti moved Mark and held his ass up trying to keep in the cum as madness got the plug from the nightstand. "Do you think he will mind." "Nah, I do this all the time, we just have to feed him a load to make him happy." "You have a good little sub, with the tightest pussy I've felt." Madness pulled Marks ass cheeks showing his pussy stuffed with a plug all red and puff, cum and lube around his rim. Anti grinned, "Yeah I know I can't wait to see his pretty little face scrunch up when he feels our cum." When mark woke up he was wrapped in blankets cradled into anti's chest with his hair being played with by madness. Mark felt a hand nudge something in his ass making him whine and pant as he felt the cum that filled him. Mark looked up to see anti smirking at him and felt madness pull his face to kiss him. "Madness, anti?" Mark was still a little out of it so he couldn't think to clearly. "Madness how about you fuck his throat first and I eat his ass." "Alright." Mark was pushed on his back as Anti sat on the pillows above his head. Madness held open Marks mouth to help Anti slid in his member. He started fucking mark's throat as madness shoved his tongue in his sloppy hole pulling on his rim. "I'm gonna come." Anti shuddered as Mark cam and scraped his teeth on anti's dick. "Madness you wanna cum in his mouth or on his face?" "Mmh I'm thinking he would want to taste me." Anti groaned as Mark nodded. Once anti came madness shoved himself down Marks throats and started to roughly choke him. Madness cam with a loud growl thrusting one last time. Mark passed out for the second time making his mates clean him and cuddle him, knowing he would be sore when he woke.

[fictionsaroundtheclock]

Han Som Hatar Människan (He Who Hates The People) - Part 1: “Life Still Has Some Cards Up Its Sleeve”

Niklas Kvarforth x OFC

! Smut Warning !

               It was just another show in Norway. The day was rainy, the air was heavy, the sky was cloudy. That didn’t stop the Shining fans from attending the fest. The small rain drops wouldn’t ruin it for them. In fact, Niklas thought the silent rain would fit well the atmosphere of the music. Night fell down, the rain stopped, but the air still reminded of the dark weather with the smell of rain. It was finally Shining’s turn to get on stage.

               The show proceeded as it usually did. Niklas was drunk off his ass, he cut himself on stage, he burned himself, he smoked cigarettes and he extinguished them in his own skin, he shared a passionate kiss with Christian like many times before – all the usual specialties. After the show, Niklas had to pass by a certain amount of fans that wanted to meet the band. However, this very night he was experiencing some unexplainable anger, not even pain, but anger, so he wasn’t having it with the fans this time. He was trying to escape them without being touched by a finger, but he suddenly felt a hand wrapping around his arm. He clenched his teeth in anger and turned around to see who the intruder was. He was surprised to have his eyes locked to the eyes of a young-looking girl with a cigarette in her hand. Her hairs were blood red and her eyes were green. There was no emotion written on her face. Niklas stared at her for a few seconds, before she pulled him close with strength that almost surprised him and she smacked her lips against his. The man was puzzled and shocked, but decided to play along. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and kissed her violently. She then pulled away and looked at him questioningly, running her tongue over her bottom lip. They kept eye contact for a moment as Niklas wondered how someone could have the boldness to do such a thing. He then clenched his teeth in determination again and turned the tables, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards the backstage room.

“Hey, what are you doing?” The girl asked puzzled, but without a tone of blame in her voice. She just took another drag of her cigarette as he kept pulling her by the wrist roughly. Niklas himself didn’t know what he was doing, but just kept going with the flow. He opened the door to his designated room in the backstage and pushed her inside. He closed the door behind him. The puzzled girl took another drag of her cigarette as she looked at him expectantly.

“Don’t you think it was a bold thing what you did?” Niklas started with a passively calm tone as he threw his hands around.

“Of course I do. Did my boldness bother you?” The girl replied not any less bolder than her actions were. Niklas threw a questioning look at her and then approached her. He let out a small sarcastic laugh and put a hand on her cheek.

“Do you really believe something could bother…me?” He cheekily answered to her question with a question.

“You tell me. I’m not bothered by what I did, I’m sorry if you were. I am just a very…impulsive person and I’d rather not explain every action of mine.”

“I’m not one of those people, but don’t you think somebody could find this to be immoral?”

“Many people would, but I’m not bothered. I felt like doing it – I did it, I neither feel guilty, nor do I feel the need to explain myself and defend my actions.”

“I believe you’ve got some stories to tell.” Concluded Niklas as he took a long look at her eyes.

“Who? Me? I’m pretty sure you’re the one with quite the stories here, Mr. Kvarforth.”

“You’re a bold one. I’d like to see some more of this…boldness…Would it be a little too bold of me to ask you to spend the evening with me in my hotel room?” Asked the dark man with some perverse grin on his face.

“Not at all. I like adventures.” The girl replied cheekily making Kvarforth squint a little. He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. Most people would probably be scared or disgusted, other crazy fans would die to join him without knowing what they’re getting into, but she seemed to be taking it as a challenge.

               Niklas took the girl to his hotel room. On the way there they didn’t say a word. All the interaction between them was summed up with the quick peeks Niklas was throwing over at her as he tried to study her. She didn’t seem to pay them much of a meaning. However, she kept them in mind as Niklas was known to be very unpredictable. They entered the hotel room and the girl took a look around. There were empty bottles of booze lying around as well as some knives, a few syringes and the carpets were stained with blood. The bed sheets seemed to be ripped with a sharp object and they were also stained with blood.

“They’ll make you pay for all of this, you know.” The girl noticed blankly.

“Money isn’t relevant. All that you see is.” Niklas simply said as he opened a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“Destruction?” She looked at him questioningly and took his silence for a confirmation. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. That’s what us, humans, are best at anyway, isn’t it?” Niklas approached her, stopping only a step away from her and lifted the bottle up as he stared into her eyes. Without a word being said, the tall man took a handful of her hair in his hand and forced her into a deep kiss. She was struggling to keep up with the pace and rhythm of his tongue as she tasted the alcohol in his mouth.

“You might…need…some of this to survive through the night.” Niklas offered her the bottle and she bravely drank a mouthful of whiskey as she stared into his eyes, just the way he had done. He smirked. “It is going to be a fun night.”

               The two of them ended up drunk as fuck, at first crawling on the ground in search for another full bottle and then sprawled out on the bed with the discovered bottle. They almost didn’t speak, they only laughed at nothing. Everything was fun and games, until Niklas pulled out a razor blade. The clueless girl just followed his every move with her eyes in expectation of the worst, but she wasn’t scared. He brought the blade to the skin of his arm and cut it open. The blood covered his skin and left another bloody stain on the white sheets. The girl wasn’t having it. She snapped the blade from his hand, making him a little angry, but the anger written on his face turned into interest and curiosity when she brought the blade to her lips and licked off his blood from the both sides of it, as her look was concentrated on his. She then threw the razor on the ground and knelt between Niklas’ wide open legs. She took his arm in her hand and gently licked the blood off of it too. Niklas was left a little impressed with her actions, at least as much as his drunken state allowed. His thoughts and vision was blurry, but he still had some sober thoughts on his mind. The girl, however, sober or not, she seemed to be crazy enough to do everything on her terms, no matter what and she was going to get her way. She gave his chest a playful lick and traced a line from his chest up his neck and then to his mouth. She gave his lips a quick playful lick too, before she hungrily slipped her tongue in his mouth. Of course, he didn’t mind at all. Actually, drunk as fuck, they were both already enjoying this game and it was just about to get interesting. Niklas tried to put the whiskey bottle down on the night stand, but thanks to his drunken movements it fell on one side and half of what was left of the whiskey was spilt on the floor. He took a handful of her hair in his palm as he held her into the passionate kiss. The girl’s hand slipped between their bodies and she started palming him through his jeans. It was a miracle he could get an erection in such a drunken state, but of course, the last thing she would do was complain. She started undoing his belt and she impatiently slipped a hand in his underwear. He let out a loud moan into the kiss. Niklas would wait for no invitation. Especially while drunk, foreplay was the last thing he cared about. He turned her over so she was under him and started kissing her deeply again. At the same time he worked on taking off her jeans and shoes. It was a little difficult in his current discoordinating state, but he finally managed to strip her naked. Her body was the best one he had recently laid his hands upon. In his twisted mind, the only way it could look better was with many cuts open on her skin and covered with blood. Or dressed in latex and wearing high heels, of course. He reached over to the night stand and felt around for the condoms. After a few awkward seconds he finally managed to put his hand upon them. Even drunk he never forgot that the creation of life is forbidden to him. He hated life in all its perverse forms, so creating a life himself would be unforgivable. Niklas slid his jeans along with his boxers down around his knees and impatiently slipped a condom on his length. Without waiting for approval, he roughly shoved his member inside the girl, making her moan out loud. He didn’t bother starting with a slow pace and increase it gradually. He directly started thrusting violently in and out of her, fast and rough. His breathing was heavy and he didn’t care to silence his moans as he had buried his face in her neck. The girl didn’t find this to be disturbing. In fact, she recently hadn’t slept with anybody as good in bed as he was. Besides, the thrill is why she did it in the first place. The thrill is why she kissed him back at the fest ground. She didn’t think she would get that far, but she was happy about it. Niklas Kvarforth was actually fucking her and he was fucking her good and that’s all that mattered. His pace never slowed down for a minute and she was moaning in pure ecstasy. He seemed to be really enjoying it as well as her well-maintained long nails ran up and down his back, scratching him mercilessly and hurting him just the way he loved.

“Niklas, I’m gonna…” The girl started, but the moment Niklas moaned in her ear, that sent her over the top and she screamed at the top of her lungs from the pleasure he gave her. No one had pleased her quite like that before. Niklas felt himself close as well, so he worked on reaching his climax too. The girl pulled him in for a kiss, sliding her tongue in his mouth passionately and in just a minute Niklas was trying to silence his moans into the kiss from the strong orgasm. He pulled out of the girl and slipped the full condom off, tying it and throwing it on the ground. It was the last thing he cared about. He suddenly felt the need to lie back down, but before he could do so, his vision got completely blurry and he fell upon the girl’s body. She was also dead tired and she either fell asleep or passed out as Niklas was still lying almost lifelessly upon her body.