#and shadow is screaming and crying and throwing up and bashing his head into the wall like ''GOD FUCKING DAMMIT WHY HIM''

[ghostie-gengar]

this is my take on sonadow

[nibbelraz]

[VD: Video Animation of Moshang and The System with the music Kingslayer Ft. Babymetal playing in the background. The video starts with a black screen and text saying "Warning: This Video contains a lot of flickering, flashing lights, blinking lights." Before fading as heavy music starts up and shows Shang Qinghua running quickly as if something is chasing him. The next scene panning to view all of his peak, before dashing into his room and throwing the door shut. The music grows heavier with the visual of Shang Qinghua shakily trying to look behind him before the first vocals come in saying "Hi" with the system popping up from behind Shang Qinghua as he's stricken with fear. Next scene shows a close up of Shang Qinghua's face shaking in terror with vocals singing "Are you looking for the other side?" The visuals pan out to show the system is floating above Qinghua terrorizing him as it glitches out aggressively as Mobei Jun shadows linger in the back, he has been waiting for Qinghua but stays hidden to view what this thing is doing with Qinghua while more text moves in saying "Feel like nothing ever seems quite right?". Next Shows a side profile of Shang Qinghua looking at the system glitching in and out and yelling "WARNING!" with vocals singing "Are you circling the drainpipe, getting off on pain like" Before Shang Qinghua is standing in the middle of static, he himself glitching out with heavily distorted text saying "You're corrupted?" Then Mobei coming out of the shadows to grab at Shang Qinghuas hand and looking down at him in jealousy and anger, unsure of what he's doing with the green glitching thing as vocals and text sing "I need to know where your loyalties lie, Tell me, are you gonna bark or bite?" Mobei and Qinghua are moved to the side and blurred as the system blinks back to life behind them while vocals continue to sing "Do you really wanna twist a knife in the belly". Next is images in quick succession of Mobei Juns neck and Shang Qinghua's neck both being choked with a system induced lock at their throat.

The vocals scream "MONSTER" while the systems cheery face pops up. Next comes in a strangling, angry Shang Qinghua screaming with text behind him saying "GET THE FUCK UP" and "WAKE THE FUCK UP" With a close of of an angry crying Shang Qinghua while his eyes begining to blink in and out glowing gold. The music continues with "WIPE THE SYSTEM" Showing a new god shang Qingha wiping the system with a gold slice and zooms into Qinghua's serious face as his eyes continue to glow and vocals saying "BACK THE FUCK UP" Next is Mobei Jun clawing at his throat before Qinghuas power overrides the system and breaks the lock as it sings "YOUR A PUPPET WHEN THEY CUT YOUR STRINGS OFF" Before Mobei falls to the floor grasping at his throat and Shang Qinghua yells "MY KING" before running towards him as the sing sings "DON'T COME CRAWLING BACK". Qinghua grabs at Mobei's hand and lowers his head apologizing as he shakes while vocals scream "KINGSLAYER DESTROYING CASTLES IN THE SKY" Mobei looks at Qinghua concerned, confused, a bit angry but intrigued while another "Kinglsayer" screams in the back. Next shows Shang Qinghua crying, his eyes are glowing bright gold and in heart shapes with he has his hands clasped together begging his king. The vocals sing "FOREVER MORE THE APPLE OF MY EYE" the visuals zoom out to show Qinghua on his knees, system boxes pop up but they are bright gold and show different images of Qinghua from his life before and current, some show him as airplane, holding a mobei bodypillow, almost bashing his kings head in, and grasping at Mobeis hand. Text pop up to show as if Qinghua is speaking it "I'd sacrifice my life to find you". Next shows Mobei grasping at Shang Qinghua's hand, zooming out to show Mobei looking at Qinghua like he's the love of his life and would love him no matter hwat, before it zooms back in to then show glowing background and silouhette of Mobei Jun and Shang Qinghua kissing. It then glitches out in gold to move to the credits where text says "Thank you for watching! Novel: Scum Villains Self Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. Characters: Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun. Song: Kinglsayer By Bring me the Horizon Ft. Babymetal. Art and editing: @Nibbelraz" End VD]

Ah Mobei jun, Don't be jealous of that dumb system! Shang Qinghua has loved you since creation 💞

Prompt for the @moshangevents DXD event: "Pre-canon SQH's identity reveal as the author/creator. Hiding in the shadows, MBJ eavesdrops SQH talking to the System and gets jealous." With added bonus of God Shang Qinghua! For @notsofrozt ! had a lot of fun making this and hope you enjoy!

If the video isn't working click here for the YouTube Link

[harleehazbinfics]

Home is where my Heart is.

Chapter 3: The First Time Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 1100+ Warning: implied rape and abuse A/N: idk i feel weird that he's kinda ooc; tbf he is very different here in this ff BUT LISTEN crazy meets sweet, ITS KINDA CUTE also also, imma take a break and continue my devout!reader ff, you can check it out here. thanky!

mmmmm i changed so much dialogue i wonder how this'll go. (edited as of Feb 20)

It had been quite a few months after Alastor and I have started going out. Nothing drastically different happened when we were still friends then transitioning to lovers.

Both of us would mind our own business, however, that didn’t really mean that we weren’t thinking about each other. If Alastor went on radio, I would listen to him while doing mundane chores, listening to his voice through the vintage filter of the stereo, I'd even retort to his witty commentary as if he was in the room with me. While, I would be out doing shows across the city, ranging from clubs and cafes to the early television programs.

Today was one of those days, where I would be waiting for Alastor to pick me up after performing a show, as he promised to bring me out to drink for our date. I stood at a lamp post waiting for him, looking down at my shadow.

“Well, look who it is. Lil’ Mel out in town?” a raspy voice said to me, “Must be nice to finally get out of that orphanage, huh? How’ve you been liking it so far? Missed me?”

Hearing this familiar insistent voice sent shivers down my spine, having flashbacks of my days in the orphanage. I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Go away, Aidan. I don’t want to talk to you,” I announced, fear creeping up on me.

“Oh, don’t be like that, babe!” he said putting his hand on my shoulder, “Don’t you remember all our fun times?”

I wriggled out of his grasp and angrily answered, “Fun? Hah, you’re insane. And never call me babe! Goodbye.”

I tightened my grasp on my sling bag and briskly walked away, looking for a more crowded area. But I never got too far when he suddenly had my arm in a tight grip making me squeal in pain. He covered my mouth with his other hand hushing me, and placing his knee between my legs. This scenario was all too familiar that tears welled up in my eyes automatically, but I gathered all my courage tensing my body and biting his hand, frustration clear on my face.

Meanwhile, Alastor was already a few buildings close to your arranged meeting place when he stopped when he heard a familiar voice.

“I told you to let go of me!”

This shout reaches his ears following a thud, fearing the worst he then bolts toward Miledy’s direction.

“Miledy!” he yells however freezes when he sees a man looming over her with a metal pipe in his hands.

“AL!” she screamed scared out of her wits.

Without a second thought, he lunges at the man throwing the both of them to the side leaving me on the floor. I looked at Alastor in fear for him when I saw him struggling to wrestle the larger man off of him.

“STOP! GET OFF HIM!”

Aidan seemed to falter when he heard me, creating an opening for Alastor and managing to stab him through his chest. Aidan gathered the last of his strength to wrap his hand around Alastor’s neck. I panicked and grabbed the forgotten pipe and bashed him over the head, making him go limp on top of Al.

Alastor moved the body to the side and with a relieved look on his face, he moves forwards and pulls me in a tight hug.

“I was so scared. Did you get hurt?” he frets over me.

���You’re not scared of me? I just killed a-a person, Al,” I asked afraid of his reaction.

“Heavens no! I’m more relieved you’re not hurt,” he replied letting go of the hug and placing his hand to the side of my face.

Relieved that Alastor didn’t leave her despite her sins, she finally broke down as she recounted the traumatic events that had happened, including the times where she comforted herself to sleep crying after Aidan was done playing with her, causing all these bottled up grievances to burst out. While Alastor did his best to comfort her in an embrace.

“We should probably leave now. It won’t take long before someone calls the police,” he explained holding on to her shoulder. I only nodded my head shakily still rattled and followed his lead.

He covered the body and lifted it over his shoulder keeping it steady while his free grabbed my hand and ran far far away. We eventually ended in a forest where we buried the body. I wiped the sweat off my brow breathing deeply from all the extraneous activities. After that was all done, Alastor led me to a cabin outside the hunting grounds.

“Where are we?” I asked while looking at the old furniture and the floorboards that creaked.

“My house,” he stated simply offering me a glass of water. I took and drank all of it without a second thought making Alastor tug a very subtle smile on his lips at how she completely trusted him.

“Al, we just killed a man and buried him. What if they figure out that we did it? What will happen to us?” I ramble, face going pale from different scenarios going through my mind.

He kneels in front of me a frown adorning his face when he saw how distraught I was and replied, “I’ll never let them hurt you. I promise, they will never know.”

“What about you, Al! What if they take you away from me. I don’t want to be separated from you!” I yelled hoping he’d care about his own well-being.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said reading through me and holding my face in his hands, “I’ll never ever leave you, not if I can’t help it.”

My eyebrows furrowed still unconvinced, “How can you be so sure?”

His eyebrows drooped and a wry smile takes place while putting his hands on my knees obediently, “I’ve been hiding from them for years now. They haven’t had any idea that it was me. Knowing a lot of people surely has its perks.” I looked at him confused. “The first person killed was when I was 16, on the day that my mother died, and I’ve been running ever since.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you. But I never wanted you to be involved in this dirty past of mine,” he apologizes. “But I swear on my life that I never had any bad intention towards you. All I want is for you to be safe and free from worry.”

It took a very long time before one of us did or said anything. I took his hand, stood up and walked him towards the balcony that we walked past getting here. And just watched as the sun slowly rose hand in hand.

“I guess this is how we live for the rest of our lives now,” I uttered just above a whisper to the wind.

“I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

“Me too. You can depend on me… I love you, Al.”

“Thank you, Miledy.”

[honeybeewhereartthee]

MDD MINI CORNER CROSSOVER PT 2 : another story

Your walking the hallway of ES holding a bouquet of sewn stuff toy flowers, today the live of Believe for leaves is very successful and your going to give flowers to Mayoi as a celebration.

As you passed by the hallway, it was kinda off when you felt like the whole place is kinda ... Different??

But nothing less you follow through your destination and saw Alkaloid in their usual spot. At that very moment you saw how they look at you.

They seems very alarm and start whispering and poking Mayoi about this and that which cause the latter to blush and shhh them.

"Mayoi ~" you of course think they are regularly weird sometimes, which makes everyone unique. You skip toward them with a sweet smile. They all taken a back. Now that's even more weird

"y-yes..?!" Mayoi quickly approaches you as Aira push him to do so with a very fearful face as if they all see a face of a devil.

What the fuck...? You look around and see no eichi and question why they all look that way.

"congrats on the success of your live." You of course ignore the gaze yet again and give the clover flowers, three roses and lavender to Mayoi all sewn by you for week.

"h-huh...?! I-is this for me...?! Y-you sure...?!" He blush so red but also have a fearful look, debating if he should be happy or should be scared.

You once again look around if you see any eichi but see no eichi.

Maybe Ibara ? You look again and saw no ibara.

The fuck are they looking like they saw a brethren of those two then ?

"of course ~" you nodded your head, once again ignoring how they look right now. "I made those for you." You added

"Why...?" He cried as if not believing as he held the bouquet of flowers tightly in his arms.

He felt so happy that you finally giving him attention after so many times he tried to gain it, even his friends help him out...yet ... He felt so weird. When he finally did. He felt it's too unreal, your too unreal.

"because Mayoi is my precious person." You giggle which cause him to become a bashful mess and the three gasp (more like aira looking like surprised Pikachu)

"I would do such effort because I love you." You always says this to mayoi with full honesty.

"!!!???" He almost drop the flowers and Aira almost scream like fucking speaker and faint to Tatsumi hands.

"MC!!!" You heard someone calling you from behind before someone tap your shoulder and as unconscious response to the familiar person. Rei. You flip him over your shoulder. " I was busy, don't bother me right now." Your eyes glow red but no one notice it so.

"????!!!!!" Mayoi shriek in fear when you just throw someone over your shoulder just now. He don't know someone fragile like you would able to do that!

"a-are you ok?" He ask you, not the groaning old man in the floor.

"of course~ ehehe." You giggle happy to the attention mayoi giving you.

"ah.. no one gonna ask this old man feeling if I'm ok...?" Rei mumble groaning in the floor.

"shut up bug." You mumble still possess by Shadow ritsu. At that moment Rei almost see ritsu in your place. Which is weird because he just bother ritsu just now and he clearly flip him off.

"M-MC..." Mayoi gasp how your so rude to Rei right now. he can't help but blush looking closely at your face...! Oh wait he just call you by your name! He dearly hope you won't mind! ' he thought.

"..." Suddenly you realize something when Ritsu stop possessing you. Rei don't felt like a darling doll.

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit.

You start to curse in your head when it all click.

Ah shit why are you in different alternative universe???

"M-MC what's wrong...?" Mayoi ask you so worriedly. Are you angry him calling your name like that? Ahhhh?! What to do?! He start to panic... What if what if .. your going to ignore him again...?! What if he only able to admire you from a far again... . Tears start to build up in his eyes as he look so panic and worry all over again. He suddenly can't feel like standing as he now in his knees crying.

"mayoi..! Don't cry! Please don't cry!" You unconsciously reach out to wipe his tears. He keep crying thinking your only did so because you pity him. He felt so devastated, he fainted.

"...what the." You question how emotional the Mayoi here but you already pick him up like a groom do to a bride before hiiro can offer a help.

At that moment hiiro can clearly see that your very strong. He wish he can match you later!

"I'll bring him to clinic!" You said as you run. Tatsumi just wave you off, thinking his friend finally get his chance indeed. He can't help but thank God. "Amen." He mumble.

...

You look through your phone.. well at least the phone of you in this world. You realize that this world don't have darling dolls (how tragic) and your a producer in this world..

You handle the Undead. you and Rei are particularly close to the point there's a rumour you two might be dating but seeing that all the messages you got is how he is asking how to make ritsu love him again over and over again in your phone. You doubt about it. Rei shamelessly ship you with ritsu so if you two can get married he will have to younger sibling that will call him 'oniichan' which made ritsu and you to flip him off in his weird ass fantasy.

"one day huh." That's how long the last time something like this happened. Through you wonder how your other self that seems to be fear by Alkaloid to handle the place back home.

"ahm. What's this folder." You snoop through your other self phone and saw a locked folder and think what password they will have for it. You tried your birthday and it don't work, you tried your address number but It don't work. You tried Mayoi name and birthday and it work

"........ Lol" you sneakers as you open the file containing download pictures of Mayoi from social media, screenshot of mayoi post in twitter and such. There's even an long SS of a fanfic. "Holy... What the--" you read through the fanfic an realize it's smut. Your face turn bright red as you read through the fanfic.

"oh gott..." You cannot believe the taste of your other self and quickly swipe off the SS of the fanfic to see an even worse SS of another fanfic. "Ah gosh." You blush even redder. You don't know how to look your Mayoi in the eye right now after reading those.

"....hmm?" You look up from your phone and realized Mayoi of this world finally waking up. You just realize at that moment, your other self probably have a secret crush toward Mayoi yet unable to do anything. They have a planner for the day and they wish to try to confess today and rei would bail them out if they failed to even say a word, to not embarrassed theirself.

"I love you " you smile as you will help your other self. "H-huh...?! R-really?!" He gasp. He felt he just awaken to a wonderful dream! He don't want to wake up...!

"will you go out with [ me ] ?" You ask him and he blush even more. "Y-you sure...?!" He can't help but gulp, oh his dreams are coming true!

"hmm." Your other self would love too of course. At that moment you suddenly realize, your slowly exchanging place with your other self as he takes a deep breath and when your finally exchange completely to the real MC of this world...

" I- I love you too!" He says. "I like you so so much! I always wanted to be notice by you! Thank you for noticing insignificant and subhuman like me!" He cried

"......." The you of this world suddenly pulled his braid and kiss him. He suddenly become mute as he felt his in cloud nine.

"I love you too stupid. Hmmp." You mumble, maybe that Mayoi is right, you just have to be at least be true to your feelings to the person you love.

...

Back to MDD AU

"*yawn." You look at Mayoi who's across you, eating grapes. He look at you and smile at you. " Welcome back." He mumble, he knows it wasn't you from the first time he sees a tsundere MC that made everyone laugh their ass off in the floor because you keep denying shit and trying to act tough cookie. When you can't even do simple things like smacking Rinne in the face when his being so shameless and annoying like you usually do cause you fear rinne so suddenly.

He would gone mad but be realize the tsundere MC is harmless and it's in a very bashful mess when he hugs them out of the blue and saying his degenerate love for you.

As he tells you what happened, you laugh your ass off as you remember that tsundere MC have a degenerate dead doves fanfic in their phone.

"..it was so weird when alkaloid of that world looking at me like I'm eichi or ibara. I felt so insulated." You mumble as you take some grapes.

"sorry." He felt he need to apologize for the alkaloid of that world.

" lol I was just kidding." You mumble. "I hope this multiverse shit isn't gonna end up as a trouble for daily life for the future." You mumble as you stood up as you saw Rinne and give him a punch in the face.

"YOU THINK I WILL LET YOU BOOLY ME? DIVORCE PAPERS NOW!"

"ohohoho?!SO MC IS BACK TO NORMAL HUH. and here I was going to enjoying boolying you." He sneakers before you two began a mortal combat in the kitchen before you get smacked in the head by Niki when you just accidentally smack the food off his hand.

...

🪷 Tag List: @valeriele3 @emikoisdead @allimili

[shorkbrian]

HI i love ur blog okokok um but writing for HISOKA???????? yes please like i have so many hisoka thoughts. imagining getting stalked by him bc he thinks ur a powerful fighter and then he just .. jumps you and you fight in some random alley & he just. destroys ur insides . masochistic man of my dreams <33

(What To Expect - blood, stalking, fighting n fucking, NSFW, noncon, sexual assault. Dark content, don’t like, don’t read.)

oh to be a newly licensed hunter, accidentally stumbling across Hisoka’s path while he’s working.

Trying to turn and leave only to get stopped by some fool looking for a fight, leering at you, taunting you, assuming you’re working with Hisoka.

Having to dispatch of the goon before slipping away, cutting off his meaty, groping hands, kicking him in the nuts and bashing his face into the cobblestone before he can even cry out, turning tail and running before any more attention could be drawn to you.

Hisoka has a reputation, after all, and you don’t want to get involved.

Having the redheaded magician suddenly show up at the inn you’re staying at, plopping himself down across from you at the little table in the corner while you eat dinner, playing cards between his fingers.

Having him thank you for lending him a hand earlier, you should’ve stayed longer and helped him with the other goons, he would’ve split the reward with you!

If he notices your blank stare, the one hiding your apprehension at his presence, the magician doesn’t say anything.

Oh to keep running into him day after day, the man making up some smooth excuse for his increasing appearance in your life.

To get that feeling that each run-in with the redhead is less of a coincidence than it seems, Hisoka dropping more and more information about you until it becomes alarming, the Magician smiling at you with faux innocence as he watches your alarm rise.

Finishing your job and leaving town to settle in a few towns over, glad to be rid of Hisoka’s unnerving presence.

Only for him to show up the next day, trailing behind you.

It’s obvious that he’s stalking you, and it’s obvious that he likes watching you run, the young hunter becoming the hunted in a twisted reversal of roles.

Wherever you find work, Hisoka happens to have a job as well, running into you each and every day with a dark twinkle in his eye, daring you to keep playing this little game of cat-and-mouse.

He holes up at the same Inns, pretends to be your friend, monopolizes your time by cornering you in public at every opportunity, rambling lazily about work while he watches you try and figure out how to politely slip away.

You always feel eyes on you, even when you’re certain you’re alone, locked in your room for the night, shutters drawn and lights put out.

No matter where you go, Hisoka follows, and you can’t ever seem to hide. 

He’s relentless in his pursuit, yet doesn’t make any moves to subdue you yet, savoring the chase, the game the two of you are playing.

Oh to get tired of his creepy behavior one night as he follows you from the shadows. You can sense his presence, and it’s irritating, because the only way you know he’s there is because Hisoka wants you to know.

Yelling at him to stop being a pervert, to stop following you, watching you, mirroring your every move.

Only to have Hisoka to disappear suddenly, just like a magician at the end of a show, no trace left behind.

To be so satisfied with yourself, for standing up to the mad man, for driving him off. Walking with your head held high and a proud feeling in your chest.

Passing through a dark alleyway to reach your destination, not worried about anybody jumping you because you have the necessary skills to incapacitate almost anyone.

Oh to be suddenly slammed against the wall, head spinning as you get thrown to the ground, Hisoka standing over you in the dark, teeth gleaming as his lips stretch into a wicked smile.

Having to fight the deranged Magician, trying to cut him and land painful hits to his body, only to be horrified at the subsequent moans each hit draws from him.

Hisoka raggedly taunting you, eyes lightning up as he lets you in on the multitude of ways he’s been stalking you, the things you had noticed, the things you hadn’t.

Like how he broke into your room each night, snooped in your belongings. Picked fights with men who’s eyes trailed after your body, just so he could beat them to the ground, relishing the fight.  Each punch to their stomach, each slice of his cards further solidifying that he was the only one who got to have you.

To ruin you.

Trying to fight back against Hisoka, horrified at his behavior.

Having it draw out, each of you bloody and battered, Hisoka laughing, hissing, groaning in pleasure each time you’re able to hurt him.

The bulge in his pants thoroughly disgusting you.

Oh to finally get knocked to your knees, a razor-sharp playing card tucked underneath your chin, forcing your head back to look up at Hisoka. Having the Magician run his bloody fingers through your hair, before pulling and making you wince.

Having the man use his cards to cut at your clothes, and finding it in you to keep fighting, determined to avoid his lecherous intentions.

Fighting him while he cuts off your clothes, while he shoves you against the wall, while he sucks on his fingers to get them wet before running them over your cunt.

Throwing your head back and hearing a satisfying crunch as you break his nose, but the man only groans low, before swiping at the blood dribbling towards his lip to use it to wet your hole.

Letting out a frustrated cry when he shuffles his pants down, long cock prodding against your ass, feeling the man rut against your a few times.

Redoubling your efforts, only managing to knock him aside and run a few meagre steps before being caught again, strong arms hauling you into the air to slam you down onto the cobblestones.

Trying to bite at his face when he gets too close, Hisoka giggling in glee as he lines himself up, slicks his length with the saliva you spit in his face.

Oh to have him utterly wreck you, fucking you into the gritty cobblestones while you fight him the entire time, scratching at his skin, biting his shoulder deep enough to draw blood, pinching his flesh between your fingers hard enough to bruise.

It only encourages HIsoka, hips stuttering at each painful sensation, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he moans, encourages you to continue.

Having him pound you stupid, until you’re screaming and exhausted, disgusted, drained. 

Having him cum inside you when you yell at him about how he’s a filthy degenerate, a disgusting pervet, a slob, a creepy, sick man that’s fucked in the head.

Oh to have him carry you back to the inn you’re staying at, a blanket that seemed to materialize from nowhere wrapped around your naked, dirty body.

Having Hisoka tuck you into bed, promising to see you again, to fight you again, to fuck you again.

<3

[princess-massacre]

Red Garden

Summary: A blind betrayal. Innocence lost. When Rendon Howe's army invades the Cousland home Rosalind must fight for survival and escape with her life.

Excerpt:

Rosalind awoke with a start. Barnabas stood barking at the closed bedroom door. She couldn’t tell what time it was but based off the long shadows on the floor she guessed it was still very late. She sighed as she rubbed her temples. “Barnabas, shush. I’m trying to sleep.” But his barking continued. She got out of bed intent on showing him there was nothing there. “Look, I’ll show you.” Her hand just grasped the doorknob when she heard it, a bloodcurdling scream.

Her eyes went wide, her breath hitching in her chest. She stood stock still and listened. Surely, she had heard wrong. But the screaming persisted, only growing louder and more desperate. Then suddenly, it stopped. Her eyes darted to the wall where her sword and shield hung. She sprung for it just as her door was kicked open.

Her fingers successfully wrapped around the hilt of her sword, but her other hand fumbled with the shield, dropping it to the floor. She heard a scuffle behind followed closely by a man’s cry. Barnabas growled. When she spun around, she saw Barnabas’ jaws clamped tight on the attacker’s sword arm.

“Barnabas!” she cried.

The attacker finally took notice of her, having not seen her where she stood behind the door. She grasped her sword in both hands and took a defensive stance. “Who are you? What have you done?” She tried to assert her authority, but regrettably could not keep her voice from trembling.

She couldn’t see the man’s face as the pitch dark of the room cast a shadow over him. Regardless, the man took it upon himself to answer her inquiry, which only left her with more questions. “Arl Howe sends his regards,” he said simply. Before she had time to ask anything more, he flailed his arm, successfully shaking off Barnabas. He made a move towards her, but before he could get any closer Barnabas recovered and lunged at the man’s leg. The man cried out again. “Damn this dog!”

Taking the distraction to her advantage she swung her sword down on the man’s head. He recovered quickly blocking her blade with his own. For a moment the two were locked in a battle for dominance, her sword pushing down while he forced his away. In the end, her attacker won out. He parried her attack with enough force to send her blade flying out of her hand and followed it up with a shield bash, sending her sprawling on the floor.

She desperately groped in the dark for her blade, but her hand was first met with her shield. She grabbed it, arming herself just in time. The attacker had managed to shake off Barnabas. He came towards her with his sword raised above his head. He swung down, but she managed to block the attack with her shield. Throwing her arm outward, she forced the blade away. The attacker recovered, readying himself for another attack. His stance indicated he was going in for a stab. Being in such a prone state, she doubted she would survive such an attack. But before he could attack an arrow lodged itself in his neck from behind, warm blood spraying across her face.

The man fell to the ground in a heap to reveal a silhouette of her mother standing behind him, her bow raised. The torch light coming from the hall illuminated her features in a soft glow, and if Rosalind hadn’t known any better, she would have assumed she had been saved by Andraste herself.

Continue Reading

[viking-raider]

The Immortal Sky - Part VII *Mature*

Summary: It’s a battle to survive and not everyone will make it.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 17,431

Rating: M - Dystopian!AU, Futuristic!AU, Language, Dark Themes: Severe Angst, Violence, Torture, Kidnapping, Traumatic Death, Blood, Life Threatening Injures, Severe Trauma, Life Changing Events, Hurt/Comfort, and a teeny bit of Fluff

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

Author’s Note: This is the final official Chapter of The Immortal Sky, I will be doing a short Epilogue to round things out though. I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for all the love, comments and support! A super thanks to @wondersofdreaming​ for being a great support, listening to my crazy thoughts, giving me amazing suggestions and ideas, and just being an all around amazing friend!

You gasped, sitting up on your elbows, heart pounding and drenched in a cold sweat as the nightmare continued to dig its claws into your waking moments.

“Henry?” You called out, instinctively, before remembering he wasn't there.

Still.

Letting out a hard and shaky breath, you dropped back onto the mattress, damp from your sweat. You stared up at the ceiling, gripping the blankets in shaking fists as hot and furious tears dripped over your temples and into your hair.

“He isn't coming back.” You choked on your own snot. “They've captured and killed him, I just know it. He's died trying to protect me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. To make up for it, so his pain and death weren't in vain.” You took gasping breaths and only choked more on your tears. “I'm so sorry Henry. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You wailed, crying without abandon.

You beat your fists on the mattress, outraged at your negativity and ease of giving up on him. Henry wouldn't have given up on you, he would have stayed strong and came for you, like he had when you ran away from him in London. Jerking up, you sat on the edge of the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking under your shifting weight.

“He's still alive.” You forced yourself to say out loud. “Henry is still alive, and I will find him.”

Resolved to this conviction, you stood up and dressed, pressing his shirt to your face and took a deep breath, inhaling his earthy and masculine scent, fortifying you, before slipping it on over your own shirt and finished tying your shoelaces. You weren't completely sure what to do or how to go about finding, and potentially saving, Henry. You weren't the amazing and seasoned High Marshal Henry was, is. You tried putting yourself in his shoes, hard as it was to fill size eleven boots. So, you started in the only place that made sense to you, the Black Bone pub, where your brother and his handler were known to frequent. So, locking your room, you trekked the six blocks from the hotel to the dingy pub, heart pounding in your throat as you entered.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked you as you approached the counter.

“Um,” You looked at the stained menu taped to the bar top. “A Virgin Mojito, please.”

The bartender lifted a brow at you, shrugged his shoulders and turned away from you. A minute later, he set the tall glass in front of you and held out his hand, wanting payment. Sighing, you dug out the meager change you had and slapped it into his hand, picked up your drink and took a seat in the corner, the same corner you occupied with Henry the day before.

You tried your best to look as inconspicuous as you possibly could, keeping your eyes on the tv, like Henry had, swirling your drink with the thin black straw inside of it and checking out everyone in the room from the corner of your vision. It was slightly more busy than it had been the morning before, but there was no sign of your brother, Knox or Henry. What your inexperienced eye failed to notice, was the bartender keeping his eye on you, for several minutes, before going to the back of the store room and making a phone call.

“Yeah, Ashe. It's me, Bruce, the owner of the Black Bone. You asked me to keep an eye out for a lady.” He rattled off your description. “Told me to call if I saw her around.”

“And?” Ashe replied, staring at the black, web-like, 3-D printed cast on the hand he busted in his fight with Henry.

“She's back.” Bruce told him, stepping out of the store room and peeking around the corner, to make sure you were still there, clearly ignoring your drink. “Sitting in a booth, right now.”

“Excellent.” Ashe grinned, wolfishly. “I'll be right over, let me know if she leaves.”

Bruce hung up with Ashe and moved back to serve his new customers, keeping his eye on you the whole time. You finally took a sip of your drink, the mint was refreshing to your taste-buds with the slight twinge of the lime's tartness, when the door of the pub chimed as it opened and from the corner of your eye you saw who entered, making your blood run cold, the man from the day before, who had given Henry the creeps and chased you both down the alleyway. Your hands shook as he glanced in your direction, a faint smirk on his thin lips, you noticed the cast on his arm and drew conclusions; knowing he and Henry must have gotten into a fight. Wishing you had the bartender put the rum into your drink after all, you gulped it down and tried to get up as casually and calmly as possible, eyes darting to the lopsided and hand written sign above the bathroom door and headed that direction.

The bathroom was big enough for a discolored and filthy toilet and a teeny window above that. Locking the bathroom door, you climbed top of the toilet, wobbling on the unstable tank to peek out the cloudy windowpane. There was another alleyway behind the pub, but you couldn't see where either end of it led out too, but you weren't going back out into the bar area with Ashe there, waiting to pounce on you. The window was wedged into the frame, sticking it into place from years of hard rains and freezing winters, swelling and warping the wood. Biting your lip, you started bashing it with the heel of your hand, the wood protesting and squeaking with each blow, until it suddenly flew open.

Glancing over your shoulder to the latched door as the dented handle started to rattle, you wasted no time, jumping and diving halfway through the window, legs flailing and kicking the dingy wall. Scrambling to get a footing and wiggle the rest of the way through the window, the rough wood scraping and cutting up your sides and ripping holes into your jacket. The bathroom door started to shake, a shoulder driving into it, you knew it wouldn't be long before Ashe busted through and hauled you out of the bathroom. Growling in frustration, you kicked hard at the wall, breaking through the crumbling drywall and used it to boost yourself up more. Punching more and more holes into the wall with your feet to you wiggle and shimmy through the window.

You gasped as your hips passed through the window frame and scrambled to get a footing on the other side, before you fell face first into a pile of two week old trash. You had just managed to flip yourself as you fell out of the window, landing on your butt on top of the overstuffed black plastic bags with a grunt. The eruption of Ashe charging through the bathroom door exploded above you, followed by his flurry of curses as his head popped through the window, the only thing small enough to fit through it.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared, pushing an arm through the window with his head to try and grab at you.

You struggled to your feet and stumbled away from Ashe and the window, out of breath and bleeding. Knowing he wasn't going to get through the window, Ashe jerked back inside and stormed out of the bathroom, shoving and knocking people aside as they came to see what all the commotion was about. Not waiting around for Ashe to reach you, you bolted down the alleyway, slipping on the slimy pavement and tripping over trash, just making it to the end, when two shadows blocked the way. Startled, you tried twisting around to run the other way, but they were faster than you were, grabbing the hood of your jacket and yanked you back, making you choke in the process.

“You ain't going anywhere.” One of them huffed as you were slammed chest first into the wall, scraping the side of your face on the rough surface.

Your arms were harshly yanked behind you and hands slipped through the loops of thick black cuffs, before your captor pressed a button on the handle connecting the cuffs and they automatically tightened around your wrists, painfully cutting off circulation and into your skin. They jerked you off the wall and faced you out of the alleyway, one of them clamped a hand down on your shoulder, making you whimper in pain and try to shrink away from him, only to be struck in the side.

“You should have stayed in London.” Ashe's angry voice growled as he approached the three of you, pinching your chin between his fingers. “Or just not have been born at all.” He hissed, letting go of your head with a jerk. “Get her in the van.” He ordered the two men, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, to the van parked at the curb, its back sliding door open and waiting.

You looked up and down the sidewalk as they pushed and shoved you towards the van, frantically hoping someone would see the four of you and rush to help you, stop them for kidnapping you. But, as you looked at the full street, you noticed everyone looking everywhere but at you, not wanting to get involved, knowing doing so would land them in the same hot water you were finding yourself in. But, to your utter shock, one face did look back at you, just as stunned to see you as you were to see them.

“Michail.” You mouthed, blinking like it was just a fragment of your frantic mind. “Mikey!” You screamed out, realizing it wasn't your mind toying with you, before you were thrown into the van and the door was slammed shut behind you.

“Let's go grab a pint.” Knox said, throwing on his jacket. “Come on, Keagan, one pint won't kill you. We have a load of time before your first big run.”

Michail sighed and rubbed at his face, his back ached from hunching over the map of his first run as an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. He had been staring at it non-stop for two weeks and the run was due to happen in three days. But, Knox was right, an hour's break to enjoy a frothy pint at the pub would do him and his brain some good. So, stiffly raising from his chair, he grabbed his own jacket and followed Knox to the lift and down the four floors to the ground floor and out onto the street. They chatted about the run as they walked down to the Black Bone, Knox's usual establishment for a good pint, hammering out more details and clearing up any misunderstanding about what was to go down, once it did happen.

But, they were interrupted by a small scuffle ahead of them, near the pub.

Looking away from each other and to the altercation, they saw three sizable men roughly handling a woman, her hands tied behind her back. Michail felt the breath in his lungs freeze and his heart drop out into his stomach as he met the woman's eye, watching her mouth his name, before yelling it out.

“Mikey!”

“Issy?” He whispered back, too stunned to manage anything louder before you were manhandled into the van.

“You know that woman, Mike?” Knox asked, his eyes panning between the speeding away van and him.

“She's my sister.” Mikey replied, his mouth hanging open, shocked and speechless to not only find you in Bristol, but being carted away by those ruffians. “But, she should be back in London.” He blinked, slowly regaining himself. “What the hell is she doing here in Bristol? Do you know who those guys were?” He asked, looking at Knox.

“Only one of them.” Knox replied, narrowing his eyes. “The blond is Ashe James, he works as a free agent, working several different jobs in every Sector.”

“Why would he take my sister like that?” Mikey asked himself, deeply troubled.

“We'll find out later, let's get that pint.” Knox answered, clasping Mikey on the back and pushed him towards the pub.

Henry spit nothing, but blood, as Emilio gave him another crack punch to the face; which was multicolored and inflamed. A cut high on the bridge of his bloody nose and upper lip, his bottom lip was split and bleeding as well, blood caked in his beard and curls, as well as his chest; soaking into the fabric of his jeans. His eyes burned from the unyielding and bright lights illuminating the room. He was spent and exhausted, leaning forward with his head lulling and eyes half rolled and swollen shut. A forest of marks and box cutter cuts littered his body, partiality around the surgical site of his artificial kidney. He was more than sure every one of his ribs were broken or cracked, making him wheeze and hiss with every breath he took.

Henry wasn't sure how much more of he could take, but that didn't mean he would break.

“I don't think you have much more blood in you, mate?” Emilio huffed, shaking his throbbing hand, his fingers puffy and bruised from hitting Henry so many times. “Usually, the people I—set straight—have given up by now. But, no. Not you, you're tough. I respect that.” He said, shrugging his sore shoulders.

“To a point.” He chuckled, slapping Henry in the back of the head, making him whimper. “Why don't you tell my boss where the girl is? Then, we can let you off. But, if you don't, you'll just end up dying here.”

Henry remained quiet, he had run out of witty and smart-ass comments hours before. So, he kept his mouth shut and reserved his energy and strength to withstand their assault on him. The one saving light was the thought of you safe and sound in your room. He knew, by now, you were freaking out and panicking. There were no clocks and only one mirror that Henry knew, without a doubt, was a two way, but he could catch a glimpse of Emilio's expensive watch. He had been in the room for nearly twelve hours, all night and most of the morning.

He sighed, grimacing as he swallowed another mouthful of blood that was pooling in his mouth from his bloody nose, cut lip and the cuts on the inside of his cheeks; his stomach cramped and twisted as he swallowed it down, adding to his discomfort. His mind started to wonder, his pain was beginning to numb his battered nerve-endings, he wondered how much longer he would survive, what blow would potentially kill him.

He counted each blow.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door came flying open and Benji waltzed in, the door slamming closed behind him, as he grinned and looked chipper after getting a good night's rest, having left not long after Henry's torture started. But, he seemed overly happy, too happy, for Henry to be comfortable with, he knew something. That's when Henry's fear finally spiked and his abused body tensed and his bloodshot, blue orbs widened with panic, showing that growing ounce of fear outwardly for the first time.

“Well, Mr. Cavill, I see that you are still alive!” Benji quipped with an amused smile, grabbing the back of Henry's sweaty and bloody curls, and jerked his head back, roughly. “I am quite impressed by your stamina. I bet the ladies love it.” He teased, lowering himself to meet Henry's gaze.

“I have a surprise for you, Henry.” He cooed, menacingly, his brown eyes darkening to a black hole of evil and danger. “I'm quite sure you'll be relieved to see it.” He said softly, running a finger over the freshly bleeding cut on Henry's brow, making him hiss as heavy beads of sweat mixed into it, then straightened up.

“Bring it in!” He yelled, moving away from Henry and turned towards the two way mirror.

The door swung open again, revealing Ashe, who pressed his back against it, to keep it open, and motion into the hall for someone to come forward. Henry's shoulders fell with his face, the last bit of his strength he had draining out of him as you were shoved into the room, stumbling and almost falling if Ashe hadn't grabbed the handle of your zip cuffs and steadied you.

Your mouth dropped open seeing the pitiful and terrifying condition Henry was in, covered in blood, bruises, cuts and god knows what else. You struggled to swallow down your throbbing heart and blinked back the searing tears that burned your eyes, biting hard into your lip to keep yourself from falling apart. Henry licked his split and chapped lips and blinked slowly at you, trying to keep himself together, but not to cry, but to not lose his temper, his muscles flexing as his anger flared and surged beneath his blue and purple, blood covered skin, straining in his restraints, like a bull seeing red.

“Two very different reactions.” Benji commented, watching the pair of you through the two-way mirror. “Interesting.” He hummed, turning on the heels of his expensive dress shoes. “I've been looking for you.” He said, stepping closer to you. “Thank you for making it so easy to find and get a hold of you.”

He smiled, touching the tip of his finger to your cheek and drew a smiley face on it.

In Henry's blood.

“Release her hands.” He ordered, snapping his fingers.

“Boss, is that a good idea?” Ashe asked, hesitating with the key to your cuffs. “She's pretty cunning.”

Benji's cool broke and slapped Ashe across the face, ripping the key out of his hand and releasing the cuffs from around your wrists. “I know what she is, you moron. But, what is she going to do? They're in my house, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of my men. Even if, they managed to get out of this room, they wouldn't make it out of the hall, before we either killed or incapacitated them. So,” He smirked at you, giving you a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let's leave them be.” He chuckled, making a motion with his hand and cleared the room, other than you and Henry.

You stood frozen for several moments, unable to move as you and Henry stared at each other, your silent tears finally escaping down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You sniffled, gulping thickly.

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, groaning and gently shaking his head. He knew, he knew you had left the room to come look for him, the guilt and evidence of it was all over your face. “It's all right.” He finally replied, his voice dry and raspy. “I know you were scared.”

“I was worried.” You whimpered, slowly approaching him. “I still am.” You told him, dropping to your knees before him, looking over his battered body. “I'm sorry, Henry. I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. Least of all, you.”

Your emotions started to overwhelm you, reaching out to gently cup his face in your shaking palms and pushed up on your toes to touch your forehead to his temple. Henry frowned and nudged your face with his, trying to give you what comfort he could, while still tied to the chair. Your wet cheek smeared more blood on the both of you, as you wrapped your arms loosely around his bare waist.

“I told you to wait for me.” He whispered, meeting your damp eyes.

“I tried.” You protested, pulling back from him. “But, I-” You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“I told you, I'd come back for you.”

“How?” You snapped, incredulous. “You're tied to a fucking chair and practically bleeding to death!”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you. “I'll be fine, I just needed more time. I've done this before.” He told you, shaking his head, then regretting it.

“That doesn't make me feel any better or convince me, Henry.” You replied with a huff. “How are we going to get out of here?” You asked, lowering your voice, sure they were eavesdropping.

“I'll think of something.” Henry answered, looking around the room, but there was very little to aid you in that endeavor. “Just stay strong for me.” He added, turning his face into yours, his chapped lips brushing your ear.

“Nugget.”

Benji stood in the room adjoined to the interrogation room you and Henry were held in, watching the two of you interact and talk, when a phone started to ring. Flexing his hands, Benji turned on his men, glaring each of them in the eyes until one of them shied away from his gaze.

“Answer it, Luis.” He hissed at the smaller man. “Now!” He roared, making everyone flinch.

Luis slipped a shaking hand into his pocket and pulled out his mobile, flipping it open and answering it. “Hello?” He squeaked, his voice high pitched with fright. “Um,--” He shuttered, eyes glued to Benji. “It's Monroe, Sir. He's asking about the girl, why she was nabbed this morning.” He explained, holding his phone out to Benji.

“Knox!” Benji roared into the receiver. “Why are you asking about the girl?” He demanded.

“My new Runner, they know each other.” Knox replied, cool as ice, he was used to Benji's outbursts. “We saw Ashe and the boys dragging her out of the Black Bone, she saw us too, and called out Keagan's name. When I asked how she knew him, he answered that she was his sister.”

“Her brother?” Benji said slowly, turning back to the mirror and staring at you as you huddled close to Henry. “Bring him to me, I want you here within the hour.”

“You got it, boss.” Knox replied, hanging up.

“The bubble of intrigue just keeps growing around this girl.” He said, studying you. “I love it.”

“I just got a call from headquarters.” Knox said as he approached Mikey at their table. “We need to go in, they're having a Runner meeting we need to attend to get the new details on our run in a couple days.” He explained.

“All right.” Mikey nodded, wiping the foam off his upper lip as he finished off his pint. “Are we going straight there?” He asked, standing up.

“Yep.” Knox nodded, clapping him on the back and directing him to the door, waving to the bartender as they left.

They hailed a cab to the Hernandez building, it was the tallest building in all of Bristol, showing the power, presence and money they had, running their empire of drugs and violence. The twenty minute ride there was quiet, and Knox almost felt bad for Mikey, knowing the kid had zero clue what was about to happen to him, but he wasn't sorry for the fact he was related to you, who could possibly bring down the business that kept him employed and out of the Slums.

“Mr. Hernandez is expecting us.” Knox told the receptionist at the front desk.

Nodding her head, the receptionist picked up her phone, dialed a number and waited for it to pick up. “Mr. Monroe to see you, sir.” She said, then hung up. “He'll meet you at lift number three.” She told Knox, then returned to her paperwork.

“Come on, Keagan.” Knox called, motioning Mikey to follow him.

Mikey followed him, unaware and naive to what was about to happen to him, to what was waiting for him, as the lift doors slid open and revealed Benji and Ashe. It was seeing Benji and Ashe that Mikey got a strange feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it, figuring it was just nervous jitters from meeting the most powerful man in Bristol.

“Knox.” Benji smiled at his prized Runner, then settled his cold eyes on Mikey. “Mr. Keagan, how nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much.”

“All good, I hope.” Mikey gulped.

“Of course.” Benji chuckled, motioning for the two men to step into the lift with them. “Let's go to my office to speak.” He suggested.

The ride in the lift was silent and stiff, no one speaking or moving, not even making eye contact for the several minutes the ride took, until the ding announced their arrival to the floor and the sleek metal doors slid open. Benji stepped off first, followed by Knox and Mikey, with Ashe bringing up the rear. They walked down a long hallway and Benji stopped beside a door, scanned a key card and pushed it open, motioning for Mikey to go in first, wanting to see his reaction as he entered.

Biting his lip, Mikey did as he was told, a nervous sweat breaking out on his brow as he moved into the dark room, noticing the wall length window to one side. He stopped in front of it, looking through the two way mirror and felt his jaw and heart hit the floor.

“Issy.” He gasped, seeing you pacing the bright room, then noticed the large and beaten male tied to the chair in the room as well.

His shoulders slumped as it all clicked in his head, he had been lied to too and was now as much a prisoner as you and Henry were. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his hands started to shake, gulping several times to try and keep his composure.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, eyes snapping to Benji as he watched Ashe lock and block the door, leaving Knox in the hallway.

“Who is that girl to you?” Benji asked, lightly tapping the glass of the mirror. “And answer truthfully.”

Mikey steeled himself. “I don't know.” He huffed, puffing out his chest.

Benji rolled his jaw and banged on the mirror, grabbing Emilio's attention. Smirking, Emilio pushed himself off the door he had been leaning against and strode over to you, startling you and making you stubble away from him.

“NO!” Henry and Mikey both screamed at the same time as Emilio grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking your head backward and making you cry out as he shoved you closer to the mirror.

“Who is she to you?” Benji asked again, slowly.

“A friend.” Mikey whimpered, clenching his fists together as he felt and saw your pain.

Benji knocked on the window again. This time, Emilio twisted you around by the hair and slammed your back up against the mirror and wrapped his meaty hand around your slender neck. Henry jerked and squirmed in his chair, roaring with madness and cursing loudly as Emilio choked you, trying desperately to break free and pull him off of you, before it was too late.

“Stop!” Henry roared, letting his anger and frustration out in a violent scream. “Let her go! Do it to me!” He begged Emilio. “Let her be!”

Mikey doubled over, his hands braced on his thighs as he gasped for air, like a goldfish out of it's tank. “Please, stop this.” He begged Benji, in a wheeze.

Benji tilted his head as he watched Mikey, watching his distress as it mirrored your own. Curiously, he banged on the mirror again and Emilio, still choking you with one hand, drove the fist of his other into your stomach, making you yelp around his hand, incapable of more as you struggled for air. Mikey stumbled back into a shelf behind him, nearly losing his footing. Benji's fingers caught the underside of Mikey's chin and jerked his head back, thick strings of drool on his lips and chin.

“Tell me who she is to you?” He hissed in his face.

“Please.” Mikey begged him, weakly.

“Tell me, and I'll make him stop.” Benji told him, his face twisted with smug malice.

Mikey whimpered, hearing you struggling and Henry's desperate protests. “She's my sister.” He broke. “My twin sister.” He admitted, weakly.

“Your twin?” Benji echoed, intrigued. “So, you feel what she feels. Does she feel what you do, I wonder.” He let go of Mikey and knocked on the mirror twice, signaling Emilio to release you, which he did, causing you to collapse to the floor. “Ashe, go in there and tell me if she feels anything from him.” He ordered, keeping his eyes on Mikey.

Nodding, Ashe left the room and entered yours and Henry's, nodding at the mirror, so Benji knew he was in position. Smiling, Benji promptly drove his knee into Mikey's stomach and looked behind him and saw Ashe smirking and chuckling to himself.

“The connection between twins.” Benji laughed, amused to all ends. “I love it. Let's have a proper little family reunion, shall we!” He declared and motioned to Luis to grab Mikey. “Bring him.” He ordered, marching out of the room. “Good news everybody!” He declared, bursting into the room with you and Henry.

“It's family time!” He laughed, as Luis shoved Mikey into the room with the two of you.

“Mikey.” You coughed and rasped, holding your bruised neck.

“Issy.” He rasped back, crawling over to you. “Where have you been?” He asked, cupping your face in his shaking hands. “We thought you were dead.”

“I went looking for you, to try and patch things up with our parents, after the fight.” You explained, fresh tears dripping down your face. “But, I was caught by the Traffickers and was held by them. Henry,” You looked up at him, still straining in the chair, his blue eyes wild. “he saved me and I've been with him the whole time.”

Mikey blinked up at Henry, then narrowed his eyes at him. “Saved you?” He echoed your words, but not your sentiments and appreciation. “The only reason a person goes into a Trafficker's warehouse, if they're not merchandise, is to buy.” He hissed, his face darkening. “You bought my sister from a fucking Trafficker. Typical Upper, buying and enslaving us just because we were born in a lower Sector than you.”

“Mikey, it wasn't like that?” You panted, shaking your head at him, desperate for him to understand.

“How can you fucking defend him!” Mikey barked, gritting his teeth at you. “Unless he's already brainwashed you, convinced you that owning you didn't make you any different than him.”

“I don't own her.” Henry growled, low in his throat.

“Is that so!”

“It is!” You barked back, regaining yourself. “He never registered me for an Ownership Bracelet. Henry's never treated me like a Slave, or even a Slummer, for that matter. He's been good to me, Mikey.” You told him, cupping his tense neck in your hands and pressed your forehead to his. “He's been helping me to find you.” You whispered to him, holding his eyes.

“He's been protecting me.” You said quieter.

“I was originally meant to follow her until you were found, then bring you both back to London.” Henry added, his eyes on you. “So, she could testify against him.” He jerked his chin at Benji. “and to turn you in for your part in the Running business. But,” He paused and sighed. “But, I changed my mind and decided to just help her bring you back home, safely. Make up some story about why I didn't bring you in, then once she testified, I was going to release her to go back home to your family.” He explained.

Mikey opened his mouth to ask why a High Marshal would bother to do something like that, when he finally felt it, a warmth that came from you, and met your eyes and saw the cause of your warmth, towards Henry. You were in love with the High Marshal, and looking to Henry, he could tell that Henry felt just as strongly about you.

“I've been a complete brainless prick.” Mikey sighed, feeling guilty, if he hadn't decided to become a Runner, then none of this would have happened, the two of you and Henry would still be safe and sound in London, going about your lives as should be.

“I'm sorry, Issy.”

“Well, you're just a stupid boy, what do you know anyway.” You huffed, smiling softly and shrugging it off.

“Well, isn't this all well and sweet.” Benji huffed pushing off the wall.

“But, we all have an issue. The three of you are a threat to my business.” He said, folding his arms. “You, High Marshal, are on the case that threatens my business. You,” He looked at Mikey. “Being a Runner, know the routes and procedures of my business, and you,” He settled his eyes on you. “Are the witness to my operations and hold the key to ruining my business in London and putting away one of my best Traffickers.”

“I can't let you live.” He said, looking at the three of you. “So, we're going to play a fun little game.” He smirked, greedy and giddy, as he rubbed his hands together. “Luis, your gun.” He ordered, holding his hand out to the other man. “Ashe draw yours as well, and Emilio, why don't you untie Mr. Cavill over there, we do out number them with people and firearms, so I doubt either of them will be stupid enough to try something.” He said, motioning Emilio towards Henry.

Obeying, Emilio removed the key to Henry's bonds from his front pocket, while Ashe had his gun trained on him, anticipating any attempt Henry, you or Mikey might make to try and be a savior. Emilio unlocked the ties around Henry's chaffed ankles, then his wrists. Henry let out a relieved sigh as the strain and tension of his shoulders and arms released, almost slumping out of the chair.

“Henry!” You gasped, dashing forward to try and catch him.

“Ah, no!” Benji barked, stopping you in your tracks. “Leave him be.” He hissed at you. “Get up, Cavill.” He demanded of Henry. “Now, or I'll start putting holes in her!”

Groaning, Henry forced himself to stand, swaying on his throbbing and injured legs and almost falling, but caught himself on the back of the chair. Assured that Henry would be able to reasonably stand, then took the gun Luis was still holding out to him, Benji removed the clip from the firearm, checking how many rounds it had, reloaded the clip and cocked the slide, securing a bullet into the chamber.

“Take it.” He snapped, holding it out to you.

“No.” You whimpered, shaking your head and taking a step away from him.

“You either take it, or I kill all three of you now, starting with the High Marshal, then your dear brother and you last, so you can watch as your brother and the man you love, die.” He threatened, with an eerie calm.

Taking a shuddering breath, you stepped forward again and, with a shaky hand, took the heavy weapon from Benji's hand. You looked at Henry and Mikey with wide and frightened eyes, visibly shaking with terror. They both looked back at you with the same fright and worry.

“So, this is our game.” Benji grinned, licking his lips, like an evil serpent. “You get to choose who dies first, and get the honor of killing them.” He told you, grinning sinisterly.

“No.” You whimpered, slowly shaking your head. “No, I can't. Please, I can't.” You begged him, trembling, and staring down at the gun, like you expected it to swallow you.

“None of you are going to leave this room alive. So, you might as well put each other out of your own misery.” Benji tried to reason with you. “Do you want them to suffer because of your selfishness?”

“Don't listen to him.” Henry snapped, drawing your attention. “You don't need to do this, just give me the gun.” He told you, reaching out a hand to you.

“He's right, Issy. You don't.” Mikey agreed, holding his own hand out. “Just give it to one of us, we'll figure this out.”

Both Henry and Mikey knew why Benji had given you the gun. You would never have considered hurting anyone, with or without the firearm; unlike Henry and Mikey, who would.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure who to give it to. What would Henry do, if you were to give him the gun? Would he manage to kill Benji, Ashe, Luis and Emilio before they could do any real damage to the three of you? What about Mikey? Did your brother even know how to use a gun? What would he do once he had it? Should you even give it to them? What if one of them turned on the other, what if Henry turned on Mikey? He had originally been sent after you to bring you back to testify and take care of Mikey, because of his involvement with Benji and Bristol. Would Mikey try to kill Henry, because he was a High Marshal, maybe try to save face and show Benji he could be trusted, to save himself, and maybe you too.

You knew neither of them would turn on you or harm you in any way. You weren't afraid of them; you were afraid for them, and what they might do if they had the gun themselves.

It took all you had not to throw up, then and there. Everyone was staring at you waiting for your decision, but you couldn't decide, you wouldn't decide. You loved Henry and you loved your brother, you would rather kill yourself than one of them; and it was as if they sensed your mind go in that direction, for both Henry and Mikey jerked towards you, startling you.

“No!” Henry hissed, his eyes wide with panic. “Don't you dare.” He panted heavily, spots in his eyes as his advanced blood loss started to take its toll on him, on top of everything else going on. “Don't you dare turn that gun on yourself.” He whispered, half begging and half ordering you.

“Listen to him, Issy.” Mikey agreed, nodding his head. “Don't harm yourself. We can figure this out.” He said, eyeballing Benji over your shoulder.

Tears dripped down your face, like a waterfall after a heavy rain, it was too much, it was all too overwhelming for you to take. Mikey looked between you and Henry, he saw the absolute terror and worry in Henry's eyes, his pupils eating away the cobalt blue and speck of brown of his irises. Your own blown out pupils doing the same as you started back at him. It was something that Mikey wasn't used to. When things became scary and too much, it had always been him that you looked to in those moments, but this time, it was Henry you were seeking comfort and protection from.

“You fucking prick!” Mikey growled, trying to lung at Benji.

“Ah ah!” Benji barked back, grabbing Luis's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at you. “If either of you try and act a hero, Luis will kill her, out right.” He warned, meeting Mikey and Henry's eyes.

Biting his lip, Mikey took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, Benji had the three of you cornered. He was forcing you to kill one of the men you loved with your own life, while stopping Henry and Mikey from trying to save the day, by threatening to kill you, knowing they both would die to keep you safe.

What a twisted and poisonous web that was being weaved in the room. But, sooner or later, the strings of that web would start to snap and unravel, taking all of you with it.

Mikey took a hesitating step forward, his heart pounding and choked inside of his throat, his eyes daring between you, Benji and Luis. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling the weight of the gun you held in that hand. The pounding pulse in your wrist drummed against Mikey's fingers, and he felt his own heart become attuned with yours. From the day the two of you came into the world, you several minutes before him, the pair of you were in sync, but as you grew older, you became less so. You had taken the right path, following the law, doing the job assigned to you, making the best of the life you had been dealt, without a complaint. While Mikey rebelled and became restless, wanting to be more, wanting the people he loved to be and have more than you already did, failing to see the wealth he already had, in you, your parents and little brother.

It was too late now to go back and fix those things, to see and cherish them properly, like Mikey now realized he should have.

The two of you synced together, heart beats the same steady, but pounding rate, breathing heavy and as one, flowing in a way that only twins could. You read his face, like it was the page of an open book and knew what he was doing. Your hand grasped the grip of the gun tighter, eyes widening and head softly shaking.

It's all right, Issy. His face and eyes said to you.

No. Your eyes begged back, blinded by collecting tears. Not like this. Don't do this. I can't live without you, Mikey.

You'll be fine, Sis.

He looked away from you, to Henry, who stood there, supporting himself on the back of the chair he had spent hours being tortured in. Henry looked back at Mikey, confused, just like everyone else in the room to what was transpiring between you, narrowing his eyes and frowning, shaking his head at Mikey, wanting to understand. But, Mikey looked back to you, squeezing your wrist and pressing his free hand to your chest.

You have the High Marshal to care for and protect you now. His eyes said to you. And he'll do a better job at it. He can give you the love, life and protection you need and deserve in life.

You shook your head at him, eyes screaming at him. Don't do this! What about our parents? Our little brother? What will I tell them? They will be crushed.

I'm no good and we both know this. Let me do this, and prove I still have some good left in me.

His hand slowly slipped down yours, gently prying your fingers from around the gun's grip, carefully taking it from you. Your hands shot out, gripping Mikey by the sleeves, one last plea for him to reconsider, to help you and Henry find a different plan and outcome, to give it a chance. But, he shook his head and took your arm in his free hand, leaned in to kiss your cheek, then gently shoved you in Henry's direction. Henry just managed to catch you before you stumbled over your feet, and himself from falling as well, blinking between you and Mikey, starting to realize what was going on.

“Mikey, n--” You started to scream as he raised the muzzle to his temple.

Henry's thick arms wrapped around you, somehow mustering the strength to hold you back as you struggled and thrashed in his embrace, trying desperately to stop what was about to happen.

A loud pop and a high pitched ringing filled your ears, muting out all other sounds that were being made, the sounds of your scream that you only knew was happening by how sore it made your throat, the warm spray of droplets against your face and neck, the world ending sight of your brother crumbling to the ground, the gun falling from his limp hand and slid across the blood covered floor, spinning under the chair at Henry's foot.

But, the chaos didn't stop there.

As Mikey hit the floor, Ashe came to life, using the distraction of Mikey's decision, to pull the gun out of his back waistband, smoothly flipping off the safety with his thumb, cocked and pointed it at Luis. All of it was in slow-motion, ears still screaming, as another pop filled the room, this time taking out Luis. Henry's body tensed up against yours as he watched Luis instinctively pull the trigger of his own weapon, the bullet whizzing towards you both. Henry wrapped his arms completely around you and threw you both down onto the floor; caging you in with his heavy and bloody body, using himself as a human shield as more muffled shots rang out.

You felt Henry's body jerk once against yours and the hot breath of him groaning against your neck, then a searing pain in your thigh, before the room went quiet and dark.

You started to come back around to the sound of Henry yelling your name, above the ringing that was still filling your ears and mind. You shook your throbbing head, feeling him pat your cheeks, trying to get you to open your eyes and respond to him.

“Can you hear me?” Henry asked, blinking down at you.

You blinked back up at him, only catching every other word he said. “A little bit.” You wheezed back, your thigh felt like an overfilled, hot water bottle as it throbbed.

“Good.” He nodded, then looked down the length of your body, just then noticing the slow puddle of blood pooling around your leg and cursed. “You've been hit.” He huffed, wrestling with his body's want to panic, but kept calm.

Spotting the tattered remains of his shirt, that Emilio had cut off, Henry grabbed it. “This is going to hurt, but, I need to control the bleeding before you lose too much.” He explained, carefully bringing your leg up, then wrapping the strip of his shirt around your thigh, just above the bullet wound, and tied it off as tightly as he could without causing any more complications.

You winced and whined as he did, gripping his bicep and digging your nails into his skin. “What happened?” You asked, out of breath, you couldn't see most of the room, Henry's body blocking your view, mostly on purpose.

“It seems, we have a friend.” Henry replied looking over his shoulder to Ashe. “We're going to get out of here.” He told you, fussing over your wound as a thin and steady stream of blood continued to flow from it, tightening his shirt more.

“We can't leave without--” You paused, remembering. “Oh god, Henry!” You gasped, it all rushed back to you.

“I know.” He frowned at you, crushed.

“We have to take him with us.”

“We can't.” Henry whispered, licking his cracked lips. “It'll slow us down.” He told you as carefully as he could. “I'll get him back for you. When we get back to London, I promise you.” He said, helping you sit up.

“Henry--” You sobbed, throwing your arms around his neck and buried your face into his sweaty and sticky chest.

“I know, love. I am so so sorry.” He whimpered in your ear, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed.

“We need to go.” Ashe's rushed voice came from the door. “Now, before the alarms go off.” He said, looking back into the hall.

He felt for you, he really did, never expecting all of this to happen, but now that it had, the three of you needed to put as many kilometers and as much time between you and Bristol as you could, because Benji's men would be coming after you in no time.

“Come on.” Henry grunted, pulling himself up to his feet and taking you with him, wrapping your arm around his neck, to support you out of the room.

Your breath caught in your throat as Henry helped you stand up, seeing Mikey's body laying there in a large pool of blood, but also Luis, Emilio and Benji's bodies as well. In the chaos of Mikey taking his own life to save you and Henry, Ashe had sprung, pulling his weapon and dispatching them in the confusion. Luis and Emilio let off several rounds from their own guns, one of them nicking Henry in the side and another going through your thigh.

“Is he on our side?” You wheezed, as you and Henry followed him down the hall.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded, shifting you against his side as you started to slip. “He's a Alpha Marshal, from London.” He explained to your questioning brow lift

“How did you not know that?” You asked him, frowning, you figured since Henry was a High Marshal, he would know all of the other Marshals.

“He finished Marshal training four years before I went in, and was recruited straight out of it to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and climb the ladder as far as he could. Seems he got as high as being Benji Hernandez's personal enforcer.” He explained, stopping as Ashe secured the hallway around the corner.

“Which is damn lucky for the two of you.” Ashe commented, coming back. “The way is clear, there's a back service lift that goes down to the garage. I have a car there we can use to get the fuck out of Bristol.”

“Let's go.” Henry nodded, antsy.

You looked back down the hall, to the still open door to the room that held all that carnage, and shuttered. Henry looked at you, feeling the shiver and frowned, reaching up to brush your hair out of your sweaty and bloody face. He couldn't understand the level of pain and anguish you must be in, after watching your brother commit suicide to save you. But, he knew that Mikey would want him to protect you and get you the hell out of there, with or without his body, and that's what Henry planned on doing.

“You can do this.” He whispered to you, blood crusted fingertips brushing your cheek. “He would want you too.” He added even softer.

“I know.” You gulped down tears, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Let's go, before I lose my nerve.” You said, looking away from the door.

Nodding his head, you and Henry supported each other down the hall to the lift, leaning against the wall as it went down to the dark underground garage. Finding Ashe's car, he unlocked it and helped you and Henry get inside, before rushing around to the driver's side, tearing out of the garage and onto the street.

“Here.” You sighed and removed your torn and filthy jacket, revealing Henry's shirt beneath it, and took it off, seeing Henry's shiver.

“Thanks.” Henry whimpered, carefully pulling the shirt on his sore and battered torso. “How are we getting out of here, Ashe?”

“There's a gate out of this Sector that most of Benji's top men use for dealing with business outside of Bristol. I know the guard that works it, he'll let us through and keep his mouth shut.” Ashe explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “From there, I'll drop you both off at the drop location I use for sending my information into London.”

“What Sector is that in?” Henry asked, checking your makeshift tourniquet.

“Three.” Ashe replied, slowing his car down as they approached the gate he spoke about. “Let me do the talking.” He said over his shoulder, rolling his window down as a stocky male with a semi-automatic weapon approached the driver's side.

“James, it's been awhile. How have you been?” He asked, staring through the open driver's window.

“Been all right.” Ashe replied casually, as if nothing was amiss, like the two bleeding people in his backseat. “I need to run an errand outside the city, if you don't mind opening the gate and letting me through.”

“Sure thing.” the guard replied, chipper and oblivious to you and Henry, unable to see through the black tinted windows.

Stepping away from Ashe's car, the guard moved into a small booth beside the gate, turning a key and held down a large red button. The large and scuffed up gate groaned to life, screeching and protesting as it slid out of the way, revealing barren land and an uneven road on the other side. Waving back as the guard waved Ashe through the gate, he drove through, letting out a relieved breath as the gate closed behind you, everything so far going smooth.

“It's a two and half hour drive to your drop off location.” Ashe said, breaking the silence.

“That's fine.” Henry replied. “It took us nearly a week to walk here.” He added with a huff, that felt like a year ago at this point.

“What about you?” You asked Ashe. “What will you do now? Will you not come into London with us?” You inquired, interested, since his life and the long years he spent undercover in Bristol was now blown apart because of you, Henry and Mikey.

“I'm not originally from London.” Ashe replied, stiffly. “I'm from Chester. My father was killed in an accident and my mother couldn't take care of me. So, she had a smuggler bring me to London where I have a wealthy aunt. She took me in, adopted me and raised me as her own son, enabling me to have a better life. With her connections, I was able to attend the Marshal Council Academy, graduated top of my class and was recruited directly out of training to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and the Hernandez family. I've been there ever since, running and doing whatever job Benji and his family tell me too, while sending the information back to London and half of the money I make back to my mum in Chester.”

“I've wanted to return to Chester for a long time, I haven't seen my mother, in person, since I was eight. So, I plan to go back there, after I drop the two of you off.”

“Won't they go looking for you there?” You asked, concerned for him, you had dragged so many people into this mess.

“No, as far as they know, all my family is dead.” He answered, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. “My backstory was I was orphaned as a baby and raised on the streets of London, where I got in with Runners and came to Bristol to be more big time. So, I don't know who my parents are, let alone, know if I have any other family or where.”

“And they believed that?”

“For more than a decade.” Ashe chuckled, smiling at you.

The rest of the drive was quiet, you and Henry huddled together in the backseat, Henry's heavy head resting on your shoulder. His eyes were closed, but he didn't find any sleep, still too worked up to find it with the state you both were in. You rested your cheek on the top of his head and closed your own eyes, your head still throbbed and your leg was on fire, but had stopped bleeding so much. Both of you were worn, spent and weak, desperately needing proper medical attention and rest after everything that had happened.

“Henry?” You whispered softly into his messy curls.

“Hm?” He hummed back.

“What are we going to say, when we get back to London?” You asked him, biting your lip.

Henry sighed, picking up his head as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your temple. That had been brewing in his mind for the last hour, trying to figure out how to explain all your injuries and absence to everyone that asked. The only person that truly knew the nature of your and Henry's disappearance was Reyes, and he didn't know what Reyes would do when the pair of you showed back up in London in the sorry state you were in, and without Mikey.

“We'll cross that road, when we get there, love.” He finally replied, kissing your temple again.

You crossed that road an hour and a half later, when Ashe pulled up to a door that had been built into the wall of Sector Three. He helped you and Henry out of the car and approached the door with you, pointing out an intercom box beside the door.

“The code is 8391, it'll ring whoever is working the door today, they'll come down and ask for credentials, tell them you're a High Marshal and you'll get all the assistance you need.” He explained to you, heading back towards his car.

“Ashe!” Henry called after him, before he could get into the car and leave. “Thank you.” He said, when Ashe turned back.

“We're Marshals, we're trained to look out for each other.” Ashe replied, nodding his head to you both and got into his car.

Henry waited until Ashe's car disappeared from sight, before limping up to the door and pressed in the code Ashe had given you. A buzzer went off and five minutes later, the door opened, revealing a Beta Marshal, who frowned between you and Henry.

“High Marshal Henry Cavill.” Henry told him, as the Beta Marshal started to open his mouth. “We require aid and you need to get a call into Supreme Commander, Dylan Reyes.” He said, grabbing your hand and pushing through the door.

“Now, Beta Marshal, before we finish bleeding to death.” Henry hissed at him, annoyed and impatient.

“Of course, sir.” the Beta Marshal squeaked, saluting Henry and showing you both to his service car. “Supreme Commander Reyes, this is Beta Marshal Grant, down at the Security Door. I have a High Marshal here, wishing to speak with you.” the Beta Marshal explained, as his call to Dylan connected over the car's speakers.

“Who would that be, Grant?” Dylan's voice asked back.

“It's me, Dylan.” Henry huffed, slumping in the seat.

“Henry!” Reyes's voice snapped in surprise. “You're alive!”

“For the time being.” Henry sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Do you have the girl and her brother?” He asked, sounding desperate and frantic.

“I have her, but not her brother.” Henry explained, glancing at you. “It's a very long story. But, right now, we both need medical attention. She's been shot in the leg and bleeding heavily and I've spent the last thirteen hours being tortured.” He revealed to his boss.

“Grant, get them both to the Marshal Council Hospital right this second and make sure they don't spare any medical intervention and assistance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Supreme Commander.” Grant replied, with a hard nod of his head as he started his car and directed it towards the Marshal Council Hospital, in Sector One.

“I'll be there promptly.” Reyes replied, clearly rushing out of his office for the parking garage.

So much of the tension went out of you and Henry, you were finally back in the protective and safe walls of London, no more worry about people trying to find and kill you, no more filthy and bare essential hotel rooms and days of endless walking. You were home and free, and with Henry. Now, you both just needed to get looked over and have your injuries treated, then you could go back to the comfort of your own flat.

You and Henry were rushed into the hospital, dozens of doctors and nurses swarming you both, poking this and pulling on that, asking a barrage of questions too fast for either of you to answer properly. The leg of your leggings was cut all the way to your hip as they removed Henry's ripped and blood soaked shirt to examine your gunshot wound. You screamed in pain as they pushed around it, and apologized profusely for it, and became more gentle about touching it.

“Good news is, it went through, relatively clean.” The doctor explained to you, standing beside your bed.

“The bad?” You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried preparing for it.

“The bullet nicked your great saphenous vein, it's the longest vein in the human body, running the entire length of the leg; which is what's causing a lot of your bleeding. ”

“Am..” You gulped down a hot lump of vomit trying to surge up your throat. “Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, frightened beyond belief and wished Henry was in the same room as you, but they had separated the two of you after coming in with Beta Marshal Grant.

“No.” The doctor chuckled at you, shaking his head. “We have a procedure that will stop the bleeding and help the wound heal in no time. But, I must warn you, it is rather painful.”

“As long as I don't lose my leg, I don't care.” You told him.

You had already lost too much.

“Excellent, I'll have the nurse bring in the instruments and we'll get down to treating you.” He smiled at you, sweetly, trying to be supportive and calming. “Do you have any questions, before we get started?”

“Yes, how's Henry—the High Marshal.” You asked, correcting yourself.

“High Marshal Cavill has lost a good amount of blood.” He told you, his brow creasing with his concern. “We gave him a blood transfusion and an army load of fluids, while we treated his wounds. He has broken and cracked ribs and sternum, a broken nose, a severe concussion and very deep cuts on various parts of his body.” He explained to you, as gently as he could.

“But, he will make a full recovery. He's a tough young man, and has the best medical care London has.”

“Good.” You sigh, relieved.

The doctor smiled at you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder before leaving the room to prepare your treatment. A nurse came in a moment later, pushing a cloth covered cart, then put an IV port into your arm and hung up a bag of fluids, antibiotics and blood; since you had lost so much blood from your bullet wound. You hissed as she gingerly rotated your leg and slipped a triangular shaped pillow under your bent knee, an oval notch cut in the top of it for your knee to rest comfortable and securely, while they treated you.

She removed the cloth from the metal cart she brought in with her, and you saw what looked like a short caulking gun, a tube with a fat nozzle and two packaged patches. Picking up one of the patches, she ripped it open and dipped it in a small bowl of solution, the patch absorbed some of the liquid solution and became almost rubbery and gel-like. She moved around to your stabilized leg and gently pressed the ice cold patch to the bruised and puckered hole on the inside of your thigh, where the bullet exited, more than halfway up. You hissed as the cold gel patch touched the heated and angry skin of your thigh, whatever the solution she dipped it in stung and burned like liquid fire as it covered your wound, adhering to your skin with a firm hold.

“This will keep your wound protected, clean and sterile. It has antibodies that will recognize any infections or foreign matter and attack it, preventing your wound from going bad.” She explained to you, pressing her palm to it and held it there with firm pressure.

“And that?” You asked as she let go of the patch and picked up the caulking gun-like device and slotted the tub into it.

“This is Nanite Gel. It has antibodies in it, as well as stem cells and biological Nantes, that will start working to repair the severed muscle, skin, tendons, nerve endings and tissue inside your leg; closing the wound right up.” She replied. “The doctor will insert the nozzle into your wound and slowly draw it out, while filling it with the Gel. The patch also works as a barrier, since the projectile went through one side and out the other, preventing the Nanite Gel from squirting and leaking out.” She described to you.

“Fantastic.” You replied, with a nervous sarcasm.

You gulped with anticipation as the doctor came back in, with an additional nurse, and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He smiled at you, took his position beside your leg, and took the injector from the first nurse. The second nurse grabbed your ankle and the top of your knee, pinning your leg down as the doctor lined up the tip of the nozzle with your uncovered and slightly bloody wound.

“Deep breath.” The doctor instructed you, taking a deep breath with you. “Ready?” He asked as the first nurse carefully dabbed at the blood with a wad of gauze at the end of a clamp, keeping your wound clean, so the doctor had an easy time guiding the nozzle in, which was easily bigger than your actual wound.

“More than I ever will be.” You replied, bracing yourself.

Nodding his head, the doctor pressed the nozzle to the opening of your wound and started to push it inside. You tensed and jerked, screaming again, but the second nurse had an iron grip on your leg, keeping it still as the doctor continued to push inside. You had strobing spots in your eyes and your jaw was so tight it felt like your teeth were going to shatter at any second. The doctor barked at the first nurse to give you twelve micrograms of Fentanyl for your pain, and she scurried out of your room and came running back a minute later with a IV syringe full of the opioid, pushing it directly into the tube of your IV. Within a couple of seconds, the painkiller washed over your whole body, like a hot comforter out of the dryer, and allowed you to relax, going slack on the bed.

“Good.” The doctor nodded, seeing and feeling you relax and finished pushing the nozzle the rest of the way in.

Shifting his hand, the doctor pressed down on the trigger of the injector and slowly drew it out again, filling the tunnel the bullet made with the blue-ish gel. You didn't feel the pain of it, but you felt the pressure in your leg. Your eyes were heavy, glazed over and half lidded, you felt absolutely nothing and you were so sluggish from the opioid that you couldn't even form words to think, it felt nice after all the trauma and hardship you had gone through in the last week.

So, you let it take you, pulling you under the crashing waves of exhaustion, pain and the high of the painkiller, your body going totally limp. It alarmed the doctor and nurses for a moment, fearing you had blacked out. But, once they checked you out and determined you had simply fallen asleep, they relaxed and finished tending to your wound, filling it with the gel, then covering it with another patch, like the other one, and lightly wrapped it with a bandage.

They left you to rest, closing the blinds over the window and turned down the lights, before softly closing the door behind them.

“How is she?” Henry asked Reyes as he came into Henry's room; he had heard your screams of pain from his room, across the hall.

“She's doing fine.” Reyes assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “They treated her gunshot wound with Nanite Gel, gave her some strong pain medication and she's asleep now.”

“Good.” Henry nodded, relieved, but still wanted to see you, to be by your side.

“So, what the hell happened?” Reyes asked, pulling up a chair next Henry's bedside.

Henry started to heave a sigh, but stopped, clutching his rib-cage with an arm as his ribs screamed. “I chased after her, like I said I would. It took me nearly three days to finally catch up to her. She's crafty, in a good way. She'd make a great Marshal.” He chuckled, carefully. “I was going to bring her straight back to London to testify. But, she was dead set on finding her brother, so I went with her, figuring I'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“Get her back to London to testify and have her brother prosecuted.” Reyes nodded, understanding.

“Well, when we got there, we had no clue on how to find him.” Henry continued on, staring out his room window. “I recalled that a Beta Marshal that had been banished to Bristol for dealings with Runners and Crime Bosses. Ramsey Kellan. We found him in Sector Fifteen and he gave us the information we needed.” He rubbed the side of his face, he really wished he could just take a nap, but continued to fill Reyes in.

“Somewhere along that time frame, we were outed as being in Bristol, and looking for her brother.”

“Over a decade as an undercover, and your first blown cover happens with the girl.” Reyes laughed, greatly amused.

“Yeah.” Henry frowned, not finding it funny, if his cover with you hadn't been blown, so much of this wouldn't have happened. “As I said, our cover got blown in a pub in Sector Three of Bristol. Benji Hernandez sent his best guy to track us down there. I was able to get us out of the pub and down an alleyway, where I boosted her over a wall, to keep her safe, and faced the guy. We fought, he tazed the fuck out of me, and the next thing I knew, I'm waking up in a bright room, cuffed hand and foot to a chair.”

“They tried beating and reasoning me into telling where she was, but I refused.”

“Where was she, when this was going on?”

“The hotel room we got before going to the pub.” Henry replied with a sigh.

“But, she was clearly found.” Reyes pointed out. “How?”

“I told her I would return in an hour. When I hadn't returned by morning, she got worried and decided to try and find me. Which ended up with Benji's men, who had been keeping an eye out for her, capturing her and bringing her in.”

“And the brother?” Reyes pushed, leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs.

“They saw each other as she was being thrown in a van to be taken to Benji. His handler, Knox Monroe, had found out that they were siblings and outed him, and he ended up in the room with us.” Henry replied, gingerly shifting to find a more comfortable position.

“So, where is Keagan?”

“Dead.” Henry replied, bluntly. “Benji gave her a gun and forced her to decide which one of us would die first.”

“She killed her own brother?” Reyes asked, stunned and gobsmacked.

“No.” Henry shook his head, the image still burned in his mind. “She couldn't do it. She wouldn't choose either of us, she almost turned it on herself. Before, Michail managed to take the gun from her.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the image out his mind, the sound of your screams as you were forced to watch.

“He took his own life, so she didn't have to choose.”

“And Hernandez allowed the pair of you to leave afterwards?”

“No, I'm sure he would have forced either her or I to kill the other, then kill the last one himself.” Henry answered, opening his eyes again.

“Then, how did the two of you make it out?” Reyes asked, tilting his head at Henry.

Henry looked at Reyes. “Do you know Alpha Marshal Ashe James?” He asked, his eyes scrutinizing his boss.

“I do.” Reyes nodded back, his brows drawing together. “My predecessor, Eric Banner, told me, when I took over his position, when he retired, that he had a man on the inside of Bristol and to expect his reports regularly.”

“He was the one that saved our asses.” Henry explained with a sigh. “He was the one that stunned me in the alleyway. When Mikey killed himself, Ashe took the opportunity to pull his weapon and dispatched Benji and his men.”

Reyes blinked at Henry. “Are you telling me that Hernandez is dead?”

“I am. Unless, there's some way Nanite Gel can repair a hole in the brain.” He replied, with slight sarcasm. “Which I know there's not. So, he's now out of the way.”

“This is great.” Reyes grinned at Henry. “That'll be a massive blow to the Hernandez family, their operations and Bristol. Especially, when she's healthy enough to testify against Twist and his trafficking business.”

“It will be.” Henry agreed, but the only thing he was concerned with was the two of you getting well again. “I'm guessing, they'll be postponing the trial for a few weeks.”

“I still have to call the Cleric and Royal Councils and report everything that's gone down. But, I'm sure they'll delay the trial, for at least, a month.”

“Good, I want to take care of her first.” Henry added, nodding and relieved.

Reyes frowned at Henry and leaned back in his chair. “What is it between the two of you?” He asked, he had the suspicious feeling in his gut about the two of you for a while, but had only just had the time and place to ask.

Henry's cheeks warmed slightly and glanced away from Reyes, making his boss laugh out loud, seeing it in Henry's body language.

“You're in love with her.” He blurted out, tickled at the notion. “The great Upper, Henry Cavill, is in love with a Slummer, that's meant to be his Servant and Slave.”

“She's not my Slave! And, don't fucking call her a Slummer, either.” Henry roared, huffing angrily through his nose, like a bull about to charge. “I never registered her, and I never will register her, either.”

“Oh, I know you never registered her for an Ownership Bracelet, Henry.” Dylan continued to chuckle at his friend. “I checked and I got a copy of the paperwork you both filled out for her Life Pin.”

“And, you didn't say anything?” Henry asked, surprised.

“Not my business what you do with your private life, Hank.” He replied with a sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, you pressed me into buying her.” He hissed back, eyes wide.

“I did.” Reyes nodded, pressing his lips together. “We needed the paperwork, a trail to link Twist to trafficking, and to Benji. What you did, or didn't, do with her outside of that, was purely on you, and her.” He confessed, running a hand through his short black hair.

“I was also hoping you'd find a lover or mate.” He added, clearing his throat.

“You were what?” Henry barked, taken aback.

“I should let you rest.” Dylan sighed, getting up, then carefully rested his hand on Henry's shoulder. “It's good to have you back, and alive. You did good, taking care of her and everything else. Take all the time you need to recover, the Council will be here, when you're ready to get back into it.”

“Thanks, Dylan.” Henry replied, giving him a respectful nod of his head, still brewing on what he said.

“Do you want me to call your family?” Reyes asked as he stopped at Henry's door.

“No, I'll call them, when I'm ready.” He shook his head, feeling that new wave of stress hit him. “Last time you called them about me being in the hospital, I almost died, and ended up needing a kidney replacement.”

“Fair enough.” Reyes laughed, and saw himself out.

A day later, Henry slowly limped into your hospital room, across the hall from his, and found you sitting up in bed, eyes glued to the tv and eating a jell-o cup. Your eyes shot over to Henry as he came in, setting your cup down and turned off the tv, relieved to finally see him. The two of you had only been given random updates on each other through your shared nurse, who also, gratefully, passed messages between you as well.

“Henry, should you be out of bed?” You asked as he stopped at your bedside.

“Well, I wasn't the one shot in the leg.” He chuckled and grinned at you, before leaning in to kiss you. “I just had to see you for myself.” He confessed, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

You took a deep breath, tilting your head into his hand. “Like I got shot in the leg.” You chuckled back at him.

“Other than that, Nugget.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I feel fine. Sore, but fine.” You assured him with a nod. “How about you, Puppy?” You asked, looking him over in his hospital gown, a warm and playful smile spreading across your lips.

“Same. Sore and ready to go home.” He smiled back, his stomach full of butterflies.

“I'm ready to go home too.” You concurred with him, sighing at the thought.

The butterflies in Henry's stomach wilted and died, a nauseous, heart-shaped lump forming in his tight throat, hearing you wanted to go home. His shoulders dropped, trying to get a hold on his heartbreak, before you saw it and had your mood ruined.

“You know what I've missed about it?” You asked, looking up at him, just as he managed to hide his disappointment.

“What?” He replied, pained.

“Kal.” You chuckled at him, oblivious, until you saw his shocked face. “What? You think I would miss you, when we've been together practically the whole time?” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“No.” Henry squeaked, confused and relieved at the same time. “I just thought..” He paused, looking away from you.

“You just what, Hen?” You frowned at him, seeing his face and became worried. “Henry, sit down.” You ordered him, becoming concerned for him as you put down the arm rail, so he could sit on the edge of the bed with you.

“Tell me.” You whispered, gingerly wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I thought you were talking about going back to your family's home.” He whispered, faintly. “When you said you were ready to go back home, and that you missed them.”

“Well, I do miss them, Henry.” You told him, pressing your cheek to his bruised and nicked shoulder. “I would love to see them again. But, I wanna stay with you.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Unless, you don't want me too?”

“I do want you too.” He replied, quickly. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want you to come home and stay with me.” He confessed to you, nosing the hair at the top of your head. “And, Kal.” He added, softly.

“Your place has become more of a home to me, than my parents' place has ever been.” You told him, honestly.

You had grown a lot in the time you shared with Henry, and a lot had also changed you. You didn't get kidnapped in your own city, imprisoned in a pitch black and freezing cold cell, either not fed or fed food crawling with unmentionables, cut off from most contact with people, other than the traffickers that had put you there, when they dragged you out for another line up for another snobbish, stuck up and entitled Upper, or to beat you into submission, without something changing you.

You still had nightmares about being in that cell.

You also changed from all the things Henry exposed you too. New foods, tv shows and the luxury of being in the upper Sectors of London, like taking you to that Royal Dinner party with his family. Henry had taken the mostly naive and sheltered Slummer and opened the world up to you. You would always appreciate and love him for that, and for taking care of you and protecting you through the long months after saving you from Twist.

Henry and Kal had become your new home, and the three of you had made a new family.

“I love you, Henry Cavill, and nothing will ever stop or prevent that.” You told him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“So, you'll come back home with me?” He asked, looking down at you, hopeful.

“I don't want to be anywhere else.” You replied, smiling back at him.

Henry's face broke out into a smile and cupped your face in his hands. “Neither do I.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours and kissed you.

“Henry!” A frantic voice came from across the hall.

“Mum!” Henry called back, breaking away from you. “Mum, over here.” He yelled out, limping to your room door as his mother rushed out of his empty room.

“Oh, thank god, Henry!” She cried, rushing him and throwing her arms around him.

“Easy, Mum.” He winced, but hugged her back. “How did you know I was here?” He asked, he hadn't gotten around to calling her and his family yet.

“A report came across my desk about you being injured in the line of duty with a Slummer, and that you were still recuperating here in the hospital. I was afraid it was serious, when you hadn't called me to tell me you were all right.” Marianne explained, shaking her head at her son. “What were you doing with some Slummer that caused you to get so hurt?” She demanded, upset.

“I hope they get the punishment they deserve for getting you into such danger.”

“Mum.” Henry snapped eyes wide and looked back at you.

Marianne blinked and looked into your room, seeing your sheepish and hurt expression, then looked up at Henry. “She's a Slummer?” She asked him, surprised, as she recognized you.

Henry took a deep breath, biting his lip. “We need to talk.” He said, stepping aside, so Marianne could enter your room and followed her, closing the door behind him.

“What's going on?” She asked, taking a seat as Henry sat back down on the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his.

“Several months ago, I was undercover in Sector Thirty-One. I was tasked with infiltrating a trafficking warehouse run by one of Benji Hernandez's men. I did so, with my usual skill and process, but after finally getting an appointment with the guy and seeing the people that had been imprisoned there, Dylan told me I had to—make a purchase—to nail the traffickers and for them to get properly arrested and prosecuted by the Councils.” He explained to her.

“One of the people they had kidnapped and had for sale, was her.” He said and looked at you, giving you a soft and loving smile. “So, I purchased her, and was meant to take care of her, until the trial happened and she testified.”

“So, you bought a Slum-”

“Don't call her that.” Henry hissed, angrily, but recalled himself. “Don't call her that.” He repeated, calmer.

Marianne took a deep breath, glaring at her son. “So, you bought her, in a sting operation, took her home and acted like none of this happened, taking her to events and other functions.” She summed up, studying the two of you. “When she is, technically, your Slave.”

“Yes. But, I don't and didn't want her as a Slave. That's why I never registered her for a Bracelet.” Henry replied, licking his lips.

“So, how did the two of you end up in Bristol, of all places?” She asked, looking between you.

“I ran away, to find my brother, who got himself into a situation, as a Runner, in Bristol.” You answered, before Henry could. “I wanted to go there to try and convince him to come back home. I didn't expect Henry to come after me, when he found out where I went.”

“But,” Henry sighed and bit his lip. “I did. I was worried about her safety, and Dylan asked me, unofficially, to bring her and her brother back here. So, she could testify at the trial and her brother could face justice for his hand in the whole thing.”

Marianne looked at you, her expression stern. “And where is your criminal brother?” She asked, stiffly.

You gulped and licked your lips, staring at your covered legs and picked at the fuzz on your blanket. “He's dead.” You whispered, choking up and tears filling your eyes. “He gave his life, so Henry and I could live and get away from Benji and his men.” You blubbered, crushed.

“Sshh.” Henry hushed you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you against him.

Marianne blinked between the two of you, taken aback.

“They tried torturing her location out of me, that's why I'm so injured. They wanted to kill her to stop the trial against Twist and their operations. I refused, for obvious reasons. She tried to save me, but got caught. When they realized her twin brother was her sibling, they brought him in as well. He died for us, and she got shot in the leg during the escape. Another undercover Marshal helped us get away and back here, to London.” Henry finished explaining to his mother.

“That's what happened.” He sighed, his eyes still on you.

“You're in love.” Marianne blurted out, seeing it as plain as day now.

“Yes.” Henry nodded, looking up at her. “I don't care that she was born in the lower Sectors, mum. I love her, with my heart and soul, and she loves me.”

“I do.” You replied, gulping down your tears and clinging onto him.

Marianne sighed and pressed her lips together, she had waited, a long time, for Henry to finally find someone to fall in love with and share his life. He was the last of the five Cavill boys to find love, settle down and start a family. If she was honest, she didn't care about what social standing the girl he fell in love with was, as long as he was happy, and by the looks of it, you and Henry were more than happy and in love with each other.

“All right.” She whispered softly, nodding her head. “I approve.”

Henry lifted his head and blinked at his mother. “Really?” He asked, shocked to hear it. “You don't care that she's from the lower Sectors?”

“Honestly, Henry? No.” She replied, sighing and shaking her head. “Love is love, and nothing is stronger than true love, not even differing social status.” She told him, honestly. “But, you both know that if, and when, people find out about it, there will be issues. They'll gossip and make comments, some might even turn away from you, shunning you for being with a Sl—someone of a lower standing.” She said, looking between the two of you with an authority of a Royal.

“Do you think you both, and your love, can survive that?”

You and Henry looked at each other, a silent conversation happening between you, before Henry looked back to his mother. “Yes.” He answered, firmly.

The two of you had gone through a lot worse than people talking behind your backs and shunning you.

“All right then.” Marianne replied, standing up. “Then, you have my, and no doubt the rest of the family's, approval, respect and support in the choice of your relationship.” She approached the bed, hugging Henry and kissing his cheek, then turned towards you.

You gulped at her, like a mouse getting stared down by a hungry cat, before she leaned in and hugged you as well; you were surprised by her move, but gave her a hug back. Breaking the hug, Marianne left the room, leaving you alone with Henry again.

“That went incredibly better than I thought it would.” Henry commented, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“You can say that again.” You agreed with him, staring at the open door of your room. “What do we do now, Henry?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Now, Nugget.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “We get you well enough to go home.” He said, squeezing you against him.

Four days later, with the help of some crutches, you left the hospital with Henry, going back to his flat in Sector Two. Kal was over the moon to see you guys again, Charlie having dropped him off at the flat that morning. Henry had body block the Akita to keep him from knocking you over and harming you, until you were able to sit down on the couch and he was allowed to greet you; pressing himself against you and licking at your face.

“Yes, yes!” You laughed, hugging his thick neck, trying to calm him down. “We missed you too, Bear. We missed you just as much.” You told him, kissing his face back and giving him scratches.

After getting settled back in, Henry carefully picked you up, making you laugh as he did.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you through the flat.

“We are both absolutely filthy and need a proper shower.” He told you, going into the bathroom and setting you down on the sink counter. “Lucy!” He called out, looking up.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill?” His flat's AI replied.

“Start the shower on preset two, please.” He said, pulling off the clothing his mother had brought him, before you both left the hospital.

“Right away, sir.” Lucy replied, and the shower came to life.

“Here, let me help.” He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Thanks.” You smiled, then eased off the counter, balancing on your good leg and grasping Henry's forearm.

Marianne had even been kind enough to bring you clothes as well. So, Henry's hands dropped to the ties of your loose sweatpants and untied the knot, pushing them down your hips to pool around your bare feet. You half limped and half hopped under the spray of the hot shower head, making you moan and groan as it cascaded over your battered and sore body. Henry chuckled and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your wet hair.

“I love you, so very much.” He whispered to you. “I'm glad you came back with me.” He added, even softer.

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his hips. “I love you too, Henry, and I don't want to be anywhere that you're not.”

“Neither do I.” He replied, kissing you gently on the lips.

Dried blood, dirt and grim swirled around the shower drain as you and Henry helped clean each other off. You scrubbed his skin with an exfoliating sponge, careful of his cuts and stitches, as he washed your hair, then switched, Henry washing you as you washed his hair.

“There's almost no better feeling than that shower clean feel.” You said, limping into Henry's bedroom and snagged one of his shirts out of his closet, slipping it over your head. “It's such a euphoric feeling.”

“What feels better than that?” Henry asked, coming in after you and pulling on a loose pair of pajama bottoms.

You smirked up at Henry, impishly. “I think you know.” You chuckled at him.

Henry laughed, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, tenderly, but passionately on the lips. “I agree with that.” He said against your lips. “But, you know what else feels euphoric?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Tell me?” You giggled at him.

“A nap in that bed.” He said, pointing to his bed.

“Oh yes.” You agreed, biting your lip and staring at it. “The clean and divine smelling sheets, the warm and cloud-like mattress and pillows.”

“It's an orgasm in itself.” Henry cooed, staring at his bed with a wanting lust.

“I vote we sleep in it for the next year.” You said, looking up at him.

“I vote, the next decade.” He added, looking down at you.

“Deal.”

Henry scoped you up, carrying you to bed, and laid down with you. Cocooned under the soft and clean sheets, both of you moaned, as you melted into the mattress, like warm butter. You snuggled together, wrapped in each other's arms, and almost sound asleep the moment everything settled in around you. 

“Lucy, go to night mode.” Henry mumbled, his body feeling like a ton of rocks, he was so tired.

“Yes, sir.” Lucy whispered back.

Everything went dark, heavy drapes closed over the windows, the lights went out, the doors locked and the air purifier went on, with the soothing sound of ocean waves filling the bedroom, and you and Henry were out cold within minutes.

You slept the rest of the day and well into the next, only getting up because your stomachs were growling for food and your bladders were screaming for release, then you both crawled back into bed and slept even longer. Henry was the first one to officially wake up from your long and deserved hibernation, he laid in bed with you, stroking your hair and the nap of your neck. He traced your face, placing delicate kisses to your eyes, between your brows, the tip of your nose, both cheeks and finally, softly, to your lips.

“Henry.” You whispered, a smile tugging on your lips, before your eyes fluttered open and met his sparkling blues.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked, the tip of his finger ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Warm, content and happy.” You answered, snuggling in closer to him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “You?”

“The same.” Henry replied, nuzzling your hair. “We should go see your parents.” He said suddenly, biting the inside corner of his lip. “They deserve to know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead to his chest. You had been trying to avoid this, avoiding telling your parents that you had been kidnapped and sold by traffickers, to the man you were now madly in love with, and that their son was dead, having killed himself in the pursuit of saving you and Henry from the same outcome.

How do you tell them that? You asked yourself.

“I don't know how.” You mewled, squeezing his thick bicep, like it was a lifeline.

Henry frowned into your hair, stroking the small of your back. “With honesty.” He whispered back, his heart hurting for you.

You stood in front of the door to your family's flat and it felt alien, you didn't feel the familiar nostalgia of coming home, of seeing your family after a grueling and mindless fifteen hour shift at the supermarket. It felt like you were there for the very first time, as if you had never been there before and didn't belong. You could hear the noise inside the flat, your brother running around the place, playing with his toys.

Henry rested his hand on the small of your back and gave you an encouraging smile. Biting your lip, you mustered the courage to knock on the door, it didn't feel right to enter the pin and walk in. You fidgeted as you waited for the door to be open, absentmindedly rubbing your thigh as it throbbed with even the slightest bit of your weight on it.

Finally the door ripped open and Christophe looked at Henry first, his eyes growing with shock, then looked to you, where his face lit up with surprise.

“Issy!” He shouted, and launched at you.

“Fuck.” You snapped, catching him in your arms as Henry caught you in his, keeping you both from tumbling to the floor. “Easy, Christophe. I don't need any more injuries.” You tried to scold him, but only ended up laughing at him as he hung from his arms around your neck, feet dangling.

“Where have you been, Issy!” He demanded, letting go of you and looking between you and Henry. “Who's this?”

“Is mum and dad home, Chris?” You asked, smiling down at him, nervously ruffling his hair.

“Yeah!” Christophe nodded and rushed back into the flat. “Mummy! Dad! Issy's back!” He screamed running around the house.

You looked to Henry and took a deep breath, shoulders rising, rolled your eyes, and stepped into the flat. Henry followed behind you, as your parents rushed into the living room, hot on each other's heels.

“Oh my god!” Your mother gasped and scrambled to you.

“Easy.” You warned her, unable to take a second person jumping you, and motioned to your leg as she lifted a brow at you.

“What's happened to you?” Your father asked, blinking at your wrapped thigh.

“I was shot.” You sighed, figuring it was best to be open and honest, and not sugar coat too many things.

“What?” They both roared, horrified.

“You might want to sit down.” You said, motioning towards the sofas.

Looking at each other, your parents shooed Christophe back to his room and sat down on one couch while you and Henry sat on the love-seat, across from them. There was a long, and awkward, silence, before any of your spoke.

“I'm sorry, I've been gone for so long.” You started, squeezing Henry's hand for support and comfort. “There's been a lot going on, and I didn't, we didn't want to risk your, or Christophe's, safety.” You tried to explain the best you could.

“What are you talking about?” Your father frowned, shaking his head at you and Henry.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, you came out with it. “After I went looking for Mikey, that day, I was tricked and taken by a group of Traffickers in Sector Thirty-One. I spent several months in their warehouse, I don't want to go into details, I think that's best.”

“Of course.” Your mother nodded, clutching your father's hand.

“Henry here, is a High Marshal with the Marshal Council.” You introduced him. “He was undercover, trying to get information on the people running the trafficking warehouse, when he—uh—“ You gulped hard.

“He purchased me from them.”

“You what?” Your father hissed at Henry.

“It was part of his job, papa.” You cut him off, before his temper flared too much. “He had to do it for paperwork and other Council stuff. After he did that, he took me back to his place in Sector Two.”

“Is that where you've been this whole time?” Your father asked, his eyes narrowed angrily at Henry.

“It is.”

“And you couldn't contact us?” Your mother asked, upset. “Sent us something to tell us you were alive and all right?”

“She wanted too, many times.” Henry finally spoke up. “But, her life was in serious danger, and if she contacted anyone close to her, like yourselves, you would have been in grave danger as well. So, we didn't contact you for that reason.” He explained to them, hoping to ease that conflict.

“And how did you get shot?” Your father asked, still angry.

“I found out where Mikey was going.” You answered, quietly. “He was heading to Bristol, to advance his training as a Runner.” You gulped and looked up at Henry. “I ran away from Henry, and went to Bristol, trying to find him. I knew he was going to be in a load of trouble and I wanted to try and prevent that; to make him come home.” You explained to them, starting to shake.

Henry wrapped an arm around you and hugged you against him. “You can do this.” He whispered into your ear, gently.

Nodding and clearing your throat, you continued. “Henry came after me, trying to get me to return to London with him.”

“But, she wouldn't come back without Mikey.” He added, nodding his head at you, his eyes only on you. “I was meant to bring her back, so she could testify against her captors. But, I was also meant to bring Michail in, for his part in the Running business.”

“When we got to Bristol and started looking for him, people were looking for me, and they found us.” You picked up the narrative. “They took Henry after he made sure I was out of the way and safe. They hurt him.” You said, looking at his still bruised and cut up face. “I tried to go after him, but they got me as well.”

“While all that was going on, they somehow found out that Mikey and I were related and brought him in as well, locking us all in the same room.”

You stopped talking, trying to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed and turning into a sobbing mess. Your parents sat there for a long time, watching you try to control yourself and got the feeling something very bad had happened, worse than everything you were telling them.

“Where is Michail?” Your mother asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He's-” You licked your lips and shook your head, unable to get it out of your mouth.

“I am sorry to inform you both.” Henry replied for you. “But, Michail didn't make it.” He said gently, using his High Marshal voice, the only way he knew how to say it to your grieving parents.

“They were forcing me to decide which of the three of us would go first.” You sobbed, shaking. “Mikey made the choice to take his own life, so we could live.”

Your mother wailed and threw herself on your father, howling and sobbing, screaming at the top of her lungs about the loss of her beautiful and precious boy. You sat there with Henry, clinging onto him and wincing at each terrible and heartbreaking cry your mother made into your father's neck. Your father sat there, stoically, but silently crying as he held her and rocked back and forth.

“I'm sorry.” You whined at them, drained. “I tried. I tried so hard to bring him back.” You mewled at them, crushed.

Your father's eyes were on Henry as they both comforted the women they loved. “And you, what do you get in all this?” He asked, suspicious. “You bought my daughter, are you going to keep her from her family, still?”

“No, sir.” Henry replied, frowning back at him. “I love your daughter. I have treated her as my equal from the moment I saw her, and she will always be my equal. I don't want her as a Slave or a Servant.” He looked at you and wiped your tears away.

“I just want her.” He whispered, smiling gently at you. “Forever and always.”

[ciel-elyseen]

tw: mentions of suicide, alcohol, drugs (just one), depression, angst

- i promise i write more than just this shit, lol.

</3.

with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and your seemingly unattainable hopes and dreams in the other,

you climb onto the ledge of the bridge that arches over the river.

about a ten-minute drive from you is what you wish you were.

happy.

perhaps arm in arm with a good friend who’s telling you some dramatic tale about a guy she met at work.

youthful.

you heave a sigh in sad disappointment.

who are you disappointed in?

surely no one else but yourself, as your mother would say.

you’re the reason why you’re at the bridge in the first place.

the area around the bridge is quiet, as it should be, you check your watch, at 1:03 am.

the bridge, or 50/50, as its known as to the locals, is infamous for a plethora of things.

late night thinking.

bashful kisses after a date that went well.

a haven for a good cry.

suicides.

50/50 has seen it all.

tonight is no different,

though,

you don’t even really know what you’re there for.

the gravel behind you rustles.

you turn,

a man stands behind you, hands shoved in his sweatshirt pockets.

you turn back to face the blackness of the river, bits of light from the city and the moon casting a shadow.

“i don’t know if there’s ever been two people here at one time,” you say, taking a swig from the bottle of bourbon.

the man says nothing, just walks over to where you sit and hoists himself up, sitting next to you.

he takes your bottle and puts it to his lips, staring into the abyss.

you look at him incredulous.

“uh, yeah sure, have some why don’t you,” you scoff.

“name’s changkyun. you?” he says, casting a glance at you from the side.

you ponder for a minute.

“whatever you want it to be,” you chuckle, taking another drink of bourbon.

it’s halfway gone.

“sapphire,” he says.

you smile.

“sapphire it is.”

you sit in silence for what seems like forever.

“what are you sitting up here for? someone like you should be out partying, living your life with no regrets,” he exaggerates, throwing out his arms in dramatic fashion.

“someone like me?” you raise an eyebrow, mildly annoyed.

“you’re pretty. witty. people like you are always living life large,” he hums, kicking his feet back and forth like a child would.

“pretty people have issues too. weird family detachments, cocaine addictions, divorced parents, blah blah blah,” you roll your eyes.

he shrugs.

“what are you doing here is the better question. you live the good life, really, traveling the world, women throwing themselves at you, screaming your name. it’s a man’s wet dream,” you snicker and then sigh again, “yeah i know who you are. i’m not obsessed, but i pay attention to the world of idol-ry every now and again.”

he rolls his eyes back at you, the bourbon is now gone.

his smile fades.

“i haven’t gotten a proper night of sleep in five years. i’m always fucking doing something. i have no time to rest. it’s: wake up at six a.m., eat a shitty breakfast, down my first espresso and black coffee of the day, no sugar or milk, i might add,” he points at you dramatically, “can’t fall asleep in the car otherwise i won’t wake the fuck up, and then after schedules it’s three a.m. and back to sleep i go.”

he sighs deeply, head drooping.

“my mom hates me, kicked me out a few months ago. my dad died when i was in high school and my last relationship went up in flames. i go to work at the same shitty job, making just enough to keep me alive,” you pause, sighing audibly.

 “which i don’t even want to be sometimes, but here we are; and i have no idea what the fuck i’m doing, which led me here this evening,” you finish.

changkyun’s eyes meet yours and he holds out a hand,

“it’s been a pleasure to meet you this evening, sapphire. looks like we saved each other tonight.”

and you think he just might be right.

[bread-elf]

DWC 2021 - Day 7

Disclaimer: Some sensitive contents in this post are described vaguely, but may not suitable for some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.

Soul Warlords of Draenor, pre Legion pre-patch Drax’ara Duskrunner feels his bruised and battered body ache, shoulders burning as his arms are wound up tight behind him around the pillar. He knew he wasn’t the only one bound up, so were his brothers as well, captured by a personal enemy of his family. The Orc Warlock prowls around his makeshift prison, taunting and humiliating his brothers with obscene gestures and torture tools. He can hear the rage stemmed in his brother’s groans and yells. Not only that, he could hear the sniffling and sobbing of some of the women that were trapped here with them. Completely innocent of these transgressions, just having had the unlucky circumstance in having an romantic interest in the brothers. One of them didn’t even have a genuine interest in one of the brothers, a small human woman by the name of Amber, who had just enjoyed spending time with one of them as a friend.

Drake kept his eyes closed, hearing all the sounds of distress and torment around him. But there was one he couldn’t hear, though he knew she was here somewhere, bound up just like him. Dread filled his heart, not knowing the state of her condition. Once again he tries to call forth the Shadows he uses so often, but runes etched onto his skin flare up and he gets singed by them, forced to stop as the pain rockets through his body. “You should know by now that isn’t going to work.” The Warlock begins to tread near, as if he had been watching in secret all this time. Drake might have believed that, if it wasn’t for the fact in his hand he held a pair of bloodied forceps. “When I get out of here…” Drake begins to threaten, but it’s cut off as he shudders in pain. He tries to contain it, but the old Orc starts to let out a raspy laugh. “Hahaha! Oh no no no, Duskrunner, you don’t understand-” The Orc’s robes trail behind him as he steps closer, kneeling beside Drake. Once down he rests one arm over his propped knee casually, and the other grabs hold of the Kaldorei’s shoulder. “This is it. This is our final dance. Our feud ends here!” His free hand motions outward, still holding the forceps, and even comes around and taps Drake on the chest with them. “No more games. I’ll be taking what’s rightfully mine; your souls.” Drake spits on him, causing the Orc to recoil a bit. His hand draws away from Drake’s shoulder, and gives the elf a fierce punch. Something snaps and Drake feels his jaw slack after the initial blow. “Wallow while you still have the chance! I’ll be taking the soul of your ‘beloved’ first.” The Orc takes his heavy steps away as Drake begins to struggle with his bindings for the thousandth time. Off in the distance outside Drake could hear some wolves howling. He couldn’t tell where in Azeroth they all were, but it had to be deep in the wilderness and away from any forms of civilization. A few moments later, someone inside the makeshift prison begins to start howling as well. One of the women, it sounded like Amber. But it gets the Orc’s attention, and Drake can hear him storm on over towards where she must be. “You stupid HUMAN!” The Orc roars out, followed by the sound of a loud smack, then a wail from the small human. As the beatings go on Drake hears the wolves from outside howl again. But his heightened hearing picks up something else, his long ear giving a twitch. Some sort of metal was straining, partially covered by the sounds of the howling and fighting. The Orc stops and starts to walk away, but the human begins to once more try to howl again, but oh so weakly. But the Orc rounds back on her again. “What sort of pathetic nonsense are you doing?! Did I break you already?!” Another smack, a hard one, and there’s an immediate silence that follows from Amber. However, there’s suddenly a loud bang, stealing the Orc’s attention. “Huh?” It happens faster than Drake can process. Someone gives a battle cry, and in front of Drake’s view the Orc is suddenly shoved hard to the ground, the culprit a very tall Draenei woman. Clothes tattered and one of her horns missing, she looks battered but by pure willpower she overpowers the Orc by strength for a moment. Yet Drake could hear sounds happening from elsewhere in the area, a low growling as he then catches the scent of wildlife, of wolves. The Orc gains his bearings, and collects his strength. Fel fire is summoned in his hands, harshly grabbing hold of the Draenei who had put him off. The cries out in pain, already weak as is and unable to fight back, and the Orc shoves her away roughly. The Draenei tumbles hard to the floor, Drake unable to do anything, but then more beings scuffle into view. “What the-?!” The Orc is completely surprised by the pack of wolves that barge in, snarling and barking at him as they all suddenly approach. A large pack too, at least ten wolves that Drake could count right off the bat, though his attention is turned away as he sees the small human Amber crawling towards him. Face swollen with bruises and blood, looking far more

than just worse for war, but with trembling hands she crawls up to help undo the bindings that kept Drake in place. Watching her carefully, the skin on the back of her neck bristled almost like the wolves that now harassed the Orc, but Drake didn’t think too deep into it. It takes a moment, but she manages to get him free, and he moves his arms away to begin to stand. The runes that prevented him from using his shadow magic still affected him, but all he needed was his hands to strangle the life out of the Orc. His footing staggers as he steps forward, blood rushing and already having lost some, but he had to help his brothers. Through Amber’s antics others were beginning to get freed as well, the weakest being ushered away, though Drake finds a large pair of shears, old blood stains coating the rusty blades, but it will have to do. “You foul beasts!” The Orc had resorted to throwing fel fire at the wolves, most backing away to avoid the blows but a few still getting seared. “I’ll make rugs out of all of you-” He’s cut off as Drake suddenly intercepts him, the rusted blades aimed for the Orc’s heart, but the old warlock still had hardened warrior senses. And with how weak Drake already is, the warlock manages to outdo Drake in strength and knock the blades aside, and soon enough the Kaldorei as well. “Oh, I have had enough of these games!!” The Orc no longer amused. The fel fire begins to vanish from his hands, and instead an eerie and sickly glow of green attunes them. “You’re going to be the first! Damn the others!” Hands outreached, a zap of energy suddenly penetrates Drake, and he begins to feel his very life essence begin to drain away. “N-No-” Drake tries to stand, but suddenly collapses, getting weaker and weaker by the second. The glow of his eyes began to dwindle bit by bit, finding it harder to keep himself even upright. But the Warlock can only have a few glorious moments of that before he stops abruptly, a choked gasp escaping him as his body lurches from a glaive gouging into his back and through his chest. He stumbles a bit, having trouble processing the blood beginning to spill, but when he falls Drake can see who had the skilled aim to throw. Tattered and beaten much like the others, Jiroki stands there gasping heavily for breath. But her eyes are fixated on the Orc who struggles on the ground, unable to see Drake or anything else around her. “Th-this is n-not- the end-” His voice had become much raspier, beginning to cough and spewing some blood. “I-I will- have-” He can’t finish his words due to the blood, looking right at Jiroki. But the woman holds something out for him to see, a green growing crystal. The Warlock’s eyes widen. “No- NO-” By some miracle the Orc begins to push himself to stand, seeing his soulstone in the hand of the Kaldorei woman. Jiroki collapses to her knees, resting one hand on the stone floor while the other holds up the stone, and she begins to bash it against the ground repeatedly, intent on destroying it. The Orc makes a rapid succession of steps towards her, but Drake then plows right into him and knocks him over, keeping the Orc down with whatever last bits of strength he can muster. The soul stone cracks and pieces crumble off as Jiroki continues to smash it, some bits cutting into her hand and even smashing her fingers hard on the pavement, but she’s not content until the inner core is ruined and it breaks into pieces. An expulsion of foul magic emits from it, causing her to recoil back, but not recoil as badly as the Orc begins to do. His soul fragment being torn asunder, and the rest of his soul having nowhere else to go as his own life essence fades. To the very last he tries to rebel, until he’s an angry, bitter mess on the floor. Drake shoves the body away from him and starts to crawl towards Jiroki, who began trying to smash remnants of the crystal into more pieces. He reaches forward and snags hold of her wrist, trying to get her to stop, but she fights back and tries to persist for a time longer before he forces her into her arms. “Stop, stop-” Trying

to call her back to her senses. “He’s dead, you did it, stop-” Jiroki can’t even tell that it’s Drake trying to grab her, screaming at him and trying to pull away. Though shortly her body begins to tremble as it sinks in, her anger vaguely ebbing away just enough. The moment a sob forces its way out of her he claims her and rests his head over hers, holding her tightly as she then clings to him. @daily-writing-challenge

[theveniceangel]

Sonic Dark Shadows, Chapter 2

*That Night, On St.Vincent Street, Sonic, Shadow, and Kylie are seen walking around the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary* Kylie: *She looks around* Where the heck are they? I would've expected more.. screaming and crying? Shadow: Be patient, Kylie, they should be around here.. Sonic: *sighs* I hope so, I can't imagine what kind of- *Suddenly, the sound of a man screaming echoes through the area* Sonic, Shadow, and Kylie: There it is!! *They rush towards the source of the screaming* *Sonic and Kylie's eyes go wide with horror* *A man is seen being corned by six Dark Gaia Spawn* Sonic And Kylie: What the!? Shadow: Wh-What're those!? Sonic: Uh... Enemies from a past adventure. Kylie: Wh-Wh-What're they doing here!? What's going on!? Why are they back!? *Sonic let's out a fierce growl* Sonic: That doesn't matter right now, what matters is getting rid of them. *Sonic turns his attention to Shadow* Sonic: Let's get 'em! *Sonic and Shadow charge towards the Dark Gaia Spawn, with Kylie following behind them* Kylie: H-Hey guys! Wait for me! *The Dark Gaia Spawn close in on the guy, seemingly ready to pounce* *The man is desperately trying to get away* ???: St-Stay back! Get away from me! *One of the Dark Gaia Spawn screeches at him, and bares it's sharp fangs* *The man screams for dear life, there is seemingly no hope for him* Shadow: Chaos Spear! *Shadow's spear impales the Dark Gaia Minion's chest, it starts gasping, before evaporating into a cloud of dark gaia energy, and wisping away* ???: *gasps* *The Dark Gaia Spawn turn around, only to be greeted with Sonic, Shadow and Kylie charging at them* *Sonic grabs one of the Dark Gaia Spawn, and swings them around, both bashing it onto the ground* *Sonic snarls at the beast, angered by the mere presence of these horrendous monsters* *Meanwhile, Shadow teleports behind one of the Dark Gaia Spawn, and gives it a roundhouse kick to the head* *The creature screeches in pain, before turning towards the black and red hedgehog, and snarling at him* *Shadow glares at the creature* Shadow: It is pathetic to target those who cannot defend themselves.. *The creature growls at Shadow, before going in for the attack* Shadow: Chaos Lance! *Shadow fires a chaos lance at the creature, causing it to evaporate* *Meanwhile, one of the minions is walking towards the guy* ???: No! No! Kylie: Get away from him!! *The creature curiously turns around, only to see Kylie Dear charging at it, with a frying pan in her hand* *She swings her pan at the creature, managing to whack it on the head* *The creature screeches in pain* *Kylie continues to beat the creature with her frying pan, showing no mercy to her familiar foe* Kylie: You think you can just show your faces here, and we'd be ok with it!? Well you thought otherwise! *And with that, the enraged girl delivered one final blow to the head, causing the creature to fall onto the ground, and evaporate into a cloud of Dark Gaia energy, and wisping away* *Kylie smiles brightly, and jumps into the air* Kylie: Woohoo!! Who's the miserable weakling now!? *She holds up her frying pan triumphantly, only for her victory dance to be cut short, when she notices the other two Dark Gaia Minions closing in on her* Kylie: Oh gosh! *She goes to swing at them, but one of the creatures grabs her arm* Kylie: H-Hey! *She struggles to free her arm from the creature's grasp* Kylie: L-Let go! *The creature yanks the frying pan out of her arm, and throws it away* *Kylie's face goes pale, realizing she has lost her only weapon* Kylie: *gulps* *The creatures walk closer and closer to her, taking advantage of her newly vulnerable state* Kylie: U-Uh, h-hey, I was just kidding! W-W-We can talk this out! U-Uh..Are you hungry? Well, how about a knuckle sandwich!? *Kylie tries to punch one of the creature, but it grabs her arm before she can deliver the blow* Kylie: Ah!! *The creature grabs her by her upper torso, and screeches at her* Kylie: Ah!! L-Let me go!! *Kylie Dear's screaming catches the attention of

Sonic and Shadow, who immediately turn their heads towards the commotion* *Kylie struggles to break free of the creature's grasp, as it opens it's gaping mouth, revealing it's sharp teeth* Kylie: *screams* Let go of me!! No! No!! *Suddenly, something grabs the creature's upper jaw, preventing it from closing it's mouth* Kylie: Huh!? *The shocked brunette peaks her head around the creature, thankfully to see Sonic with his arms stretched, holding onto the creature's upper jaw* Sonic: Don't even think about it! Kylie: Sonic! *Shadow teleports behind Kylie Dear, and pulls her out of the creature's grasp* Kylie: *grunts* Shadow: Are you ok..? Kylie: I-I am now. *Sonic pulls the creature towards him, and punches it in the face* Sonic: *He growls at the creature* *Suddenly, the second Dark Gaia Minion charges towards Sonic, and tackles him* Sonic: *yelps* Kylie: Sonic!! Shadow: I've got this! *Shadow charges at the creatures, and the two heroes, and the Dark Gaia Spawn get tangled up in a rough brawl* *Kylie Dear is seen watching in horror, as her brother, and one of her closest friends are ruthlessly fighting the dreaded creatures* Kylie: Oh gosh! *She covers her eyes* *The sound of Sonic snarling is heard, later being accompanied by a chomping sound, and a Dark Gaia Creature screeching in pain* *Kylie Dear starts breathing heavily, as she's forced to listen to the horrific sounds of the fight* *Suddenly, the noises stop, Kylie reluctantly opens her eyes, and gazes upon the cause of the sudden silence* *The two Dark Gaia Creatures are seen lying on the ground, later evaporating, and wisping away* *The boys are covered in scratches, and gashes* Kylie: Guys! *The two heroes turn towards their distraught ally, as she rushes towards them, and hugs them* Sonic and Shadow: Ah!! Kylie: Are you guys ok!? They didn't hurt you too bad, did they!? Sonic and Shadow: Uh.. *The distraught girl gazes upon her friends, and gasps in horror at the injuries they've received* Kylie: Oh gosh, you're hurt! Sonic: Yeah..they got a bit snappy. Kylie: *groans* Come on! Let's get you back home! *She grabs the two by their arms, and walks away* Sonic: Ow ow ow! Shadow: Watch the arm! *Back At The Apartment* *Tails and Kylie are seen tending to Sonic and Shadow's injuries* *Kylie Dear is wrapping bandages around Shadow's arm* Kylie: That was really stupid guys, you can't just run into danger like that! Shadow: They were going to hurt you..! Kylie: I don't care about what was going to happen to me, all I care about is that you two got hurt! *She holds her hand out* Please hand me the scissors, Tails. *Tails grabs the scissors from the table, and hands them to her* Tails: Here you go. Kylie: Thank you. Sonic: Well what were we supposed to do, let that thing eat you!? Kylie: I didn't say that! Sonic: Then what are you saying!? Kylie: I-- *sighs* Look.. I appreciate the rescue, but.. please be careful next time, if anything happened to you guys, I don't know what I would do.. *Sonic and Shadow look at each other, and then look back at Kylie* Sonic: Nothing's gonna happen to us.. I promise. Shadow: And if something does happen, we'll push through it like we always do.. *Shadow places his hand on Kylie Dear's face* Kylie: Really..? *Shadow gives her a slight smile, and nods his head* *Sonic walks towards Kylie, wraps his arms around her, giving her a bear hug* Sonic: Now come on, where's that memorable smile? Kylie: *giggles* Sonic..! *She chuckles a little* Sonic: *chuckles* There it is! Kylie: *laughs* You're such a goof! *She looks at him* *Sonic releases Kylie from his arms, and looks up at her, he then gives her a bright smile* *She smiles back at him* Shadow: *sighs* I should get going.. *Shadow gets off of the couch, and walks towards the door* Kylie: Shadow wait! *She runs after him* Shadow: Hm? *He turns towards her* Kylie: *sighs* Thank you..for saving my life, you and Sonic, I really appreciate it. *Shadow gives her a nod* Shadow: Anytime.. *Shadow opens the door, and walks

away* Kylie: *giggles* *sighs* *She looks down* *The Next Day* *In Metro Square* *Kylie Dear is seen sitting on a bench, near a fountain* *She's looking down at the ground* Kylie: What the heck were they doing there..? I thought we got rid of the Dark Gaia Spawn..! Is Dark Gaia back..? No, the earth would be broken if he was.. ???: Kylie? *Kylie screams in shock, and immediately looks at the person who spoke her name* *Amy is seen standing next to the bench* Amy: Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you! Kylie: *sighs* It's alright, Amy. Amy: Hmm..Is something bothering you? Kylie: Well uh.. you could say that. Amy: Well, you can always tell me, we're gal pals. Kylie: *chuckles* Yeah, we are. *sighs* Amy..did you hear about anything.. strange last night? Amy: Hmm..Now that you mention it, I did hear some screeching coming from down town, and then I heard it again near here, right in Metro Square. Kylie: Yeah... well, I might know what you heard.. Amy: What is it? Kylie: Well uh... *Kylie looks around to make sure no one's watching them, she then whispers into Amy's ear* *Amy's eyes go wide with shock* Amy: Wait what!? Kylie: I know right!? It doesn't make sense! Amy: I-I thought you and Sonic got rid of them! Kylie: We did! Amy: *groans* I swear, if one of them even thinks of laying their grubby hands on me, I'll smack them with my hammer! Kylie: Calm yourself, Ames, save it for later. Amy: Ok.. Kylie: Listen.. *Kylie's puts her hands on Amy's shoulders, and gives her a serious look* Kylie: I need you to go to our friend's homes, and warn them about this threat, if we warn them ahead of time, hopefully it'll be easier to take care of it. Amy: *She nods her head* Ok, can do! Kylie: Thank you, Ames. *Kylie stands up, and goes to walk* Amy: W-Wait! What're you gonna do? *Kylie looks back at her worried friend, and gives her a reassuring smile* Kylie: Don't worry, I'll be careful, I'll talk to the gang, and see if we can try to figure out what's going on. Amy: Well..ok, but be careful! I wouldn't want anything to happen to any of you. Kylie: I will be. *Kylie walks away* Amy: *groans* Do be careful.. *That Night* *Kylie is seen walking around* Kylie: Dagnabbit, stupid traffic took up all my time! *sighs* Well that's what I get for walking down main street.. *The sound of screeching is heard in the distance* Kylie: What the!? *Kylie looks up to see a bunch of Dark Gaia Spawn being flung into the air in the distance* Kylie: Holy shoot! *The curious girl runs towards the commotion, only to find that traffic is being held up by Dark Gaia Spawn, attacking the innocent civilians, and being thrown against the ground* Kylie: Holy! *The sounds of horns honking, people ranting and screaming, and the Dark Gaia Spawn screeching fills the area* *Kylie manages to make her way to the middle, only to be left horrified by what she's seeing* *Something is seen beating up The Dark Spawn, and throwing them at the ground, causing them to evaporate into Dark Gaia Energy* Kylie: The heck is that? *Suddenly, a Dark Gaia Creature rushes towards her, and jumps at her, ready to pounce* *Kylie notices the creature and screams in horror, but before the creature can get to her, something grabs him, and yanks him out of the air* *The creature screeches in fear, clawing at the ground for dear life* *Kylie turns her attention to the creature, only to see the silhouette of a different creature, holding the Dark Gaia Creature in it's hand* Kylie: *gasps* *The beast grabs it's victim by the head, and bashes it's body against the ground* Kylie: Holy heck! *Once the Dark Gaia Creature has gone lifeless, the beast drops it's body onto the ground, where it evaporates and wisps away* *Kylie Dear is left frozen in shock and horror, both shocked, and almost amazed at what she's seen* Kylie: Whoa.. *The beast turns it's attention towards her* Kylie: Yipe! *Her face goes pale, and she starts breathing heavily* *The beast stands still, staring at the frightened girl, and growling softly* Kylie:

What the..? *The beast then turns around, and runs off into the night* *Kylie is left speechless, she was expecting the beast to attack her, not run away* *The only thing that was heard in the moment, were the sounds of horns honking, and people ranting* Kylie: What.. just happened..? *Meanwhile, in another part of town* *Amy is seen walking around, humming to herself* *She makes a right turn, and walks down an alleyway* *A shadow is seen on the wall, which suddenly moves* *Everything seems to be going well, until Amy hears the sound of a twig snap* Amy: Huh!? *Amy gets out her hammer, and turns around* Amy: H-Hello!? Wh-Who's there!? *There appears to be no one around* *Suddenly, a sinister giggle is heard* Amy: I--I'm warning you! *Suddenly, a pair of glowing eyes is seen, shining in the shadows* Amy: *gasps* *The entranceway to the alleyway is seen* *The sound of maniacal laughter is heard, which is soon accompanied by Amy screaming* *The focus cuts back to the alleyway, but the only thing that is seen is Amy's hammer* (To Be Continued.) Sonic The Hedgehog belongs to ©SEGA. Sonicverse Kylie Dear belongs to Me.

[tsukkisbean]

24 cakes pt.1 | oneshot

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mildly suggestive

warnings: none!

a/n: so this kind of turned into a oneshot but oh well. i also tried to make it so that you could technically read the two parts separately if you prefer fluff/smut over the other but idk how well that worked out. anyways, pt 2 has been scheduled to come out in 2 hours. n e ways TSUKISHIMA BEST BOY!! also this is a reupload bc my original post disappeared. if you already saw this NO U DIDN’T

the smell of smoke engulfs your apartment and you quickly run to slide open your balcony door. turning on your heels you make your way back to the kitchen. clambering atop the counter you try to wave the air clear with your palms. when the piercing sound of the smoke alarm finally cuts out, you plop down, letting your legs dangle over the edge of the counter.

your eyes land on the stovetop where your burnt creation sits. you let out a frustrated cry. you’ve made this recipe more times than you can count on your fingers because somehow they’ve all ended up in disaster. first, there was the time you underbeat the whipped cream, and ended up with a sticky mess. then there was the time you accidentally knocked the batter onto the floor. not to mention the time you dropped the cake right as you pulled it out of the oven.

this time you had gotten so wrapped up in your phone call with tsukishima you didn’t realize that your oven timer was going off. by the time you had come to your senses, it was too late.

you rub your temples in annoyance. despite starting weeks in advance to make sure you had the recipe down, it was now the day of your boyfriend’s birthday and you had yet to successfully finish the recipe even once.

taking a quick glance at the clock, you push yourself off the counter to throw away your burnt masterpiece and begin pulling out ingredients once more. tsukishima was supposed to be over in a few hours, so if you wanted to have enough time you had to start now.

you’re about to combine the dry ingredients together when there’s a brisk knock on the door. dusting your hands on your apron, you make your way to the front entrance. you swing your door open, and slam it shut just as fast. 

the knocking starts up again, this time more persistent and more aggressive. your fingers fumble with the door chain, sliding it into place before cracking the door open ever so slightly. you’re about to peek out into the hallway, but before you can get a good view, your visitor tries to force the door open further causing you to jump back in surprise.

“y/n? what the hell are you doing?” the person on the other side says, irritation evident in their voice. when you don’t respond they speak again, this time with a much softer tone, “y/n please let me in. are you okay?”

“mhm” is the only thing you manage to squeeze out though it sounds more like a squeak. gently pressing the door closed again, you remove the chain to let your visitor in. when your boyfriend comes into full view, you flash him a bashful smile, “sorry, kei. i was just caught off guard, i thought we agreed that you’d come over at 9pm.”

the tall male scoffs, raising his hand to give your forehead a flick, before perching forward to press an apologetic kiss against the red mark, “nii-chan got held up at work so he won’t be here until tomorrow.”

you try to pull off your best scowl, only to have him to snort at you, “so? are you going to let me in or are you going to keep making faces at me?” he cranes his neck to look past you, his height giving him a clear advantage.

reluctantly, you step aside and he lets himself in, removing his shoes and changing into his slippers in the process. as the two of you step into the kitchen, you avoid eye contact, already able to picture the smug expression on his face.

his arms slip around your waist, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. despite the sweet actions, the nuance in his voice says otherwise, “aw y/n were you trying to bake me a birthday cake? you really shouldn’t have.”

you pull away from him, sticking out your tongue in response, “fine in that case i’m going to make this strawberry shortcake for myself.” you tap your chin pretending to deep in thought for a moment, “or maybe i’ll ask yamaguchi if he wants some.”

you expect a snarky remark but he says nothing, instead he strides over to one of the drawers to pull out an apron. you watch as he hooks the bib around his neck, and fastens the string around his waist.

he picks up the recipe by the corner, letting it dangle in the air. he shoots you a questioning look but you shrug your shoulders and snatch the paper out of his hands. “so i’ve already tried to bake this recipe a couple of times, it’s bound to have a couple of stains here and there.”

“how many times is a couple, really? three? ten? fifty?”

you mutter something under your breath, fingers fiddling with each other. tsukishima leans in closer, cupping his ear with his hand, “sorry, can you say that again?”

you roll your eyes, this time your voice at a normal volume, “twenty-three.”

this time tsukishima laughs with his whole chest, using his pointer finger to gently push your head, “twenty-three? i’m surprised you haven’t burned the entire place down.”

placing your hands on your hips, you challenge him, “what? you think you can do better?”

he shifts in his spot so that your eyes are level with his, “oh i know i can do better.”

with that, he snatches the recipe back from you, doing a careful readthrough of each step. you watch as he scoops a cup of flour, neatly levelling it with a metal spatula. just as he’s about to pour the flour into the bowl, you lunge forward, bumping your hip against his side. a white cloud rises into the air, coating the both of you in flour.

tsukishima grabs you by the wrists, clicking his tongue in annoyance “tsk, do you really hate losing that much?”

you feign innocence, flashing him your sweetest smile, “sorry, i lost my balance.”

unable to think of a comeback he releases you, turning his attention back to the task at hand. as works through each step, you shadow him, interjecting a few comments every so often.

wrapping your arms around his waist, you rest your face against the side of his body, “are you sure that’s soft peaks it’s looking a little runny still”

he tilts the bowl towards you, lifting the mixer up so you can see how the egg whites droop over slightly, “yes i’m sure.”

you take your chance again when he moves onto the next step, “be careful not to add the sugar too fast or-”

but to your dismay he’s already one step ahead of you,“then the stiff peaks won’t form, i know.”

in a last resort to try and distract him, you throw in one last punch, “are you really sure you want to fold your meringue in now? it’s looking a little soft still.” obviously fed up with your antics, tsukishima grabs the metal bowl, flipping it above your head.

instinctively, you duck your head down and cover your head with your hands. cracking an eye open, you’re met with his usual smirk. and so, you shuffle over to the other side of the counter situating yourself on one of the bar stools.

you watch silently as he works through the final steps with ease. once the cake is placed in the oven he turns his attention back to you.

his long frame leans over the kitchen counter and kisses the tip of your nose, “sorry, but it looks like this is just one more thing that i’m better than you at. although 24 cakes does seem appropriate for today’s occasion, huh?”

you huff, crossing your arms against your chest, “technically you’re not finished until the cake its cooked, iced, and decorated.” turning your head slightly you side eye him, “besides you may be better than me at some things. but you’re definitely not everything.”

a sly smile appears on tsukishima’s face, “oh yeah? i can think of plenty of things that i can beat you at right now.”

your palms hit the counter as your body shoots out of its seat, “oh yeah? let’s go then. right here, right now.”

(a/n: if you want to read the smutty ending of this then please check out my blog at 3:00pm pst (in 2 hrs)! i’ve scheduled the next post for then. otherwise read on hehe.)

your entire body quivers under your boyfriend. never have you wanted to scream at him so bad before. but you bite your tongue and hold yourself back for the time being. there was no way you were going to lose to him, not when you had so confidently declared that you were going to beat him.

“left hand yellow, y/n.”

you let out a triumphant yell as your hand is already planted on a yellow spot. but the feeling is short lived when you realize that you now have to maneuver yourself to reach the spinner. it’s obvious your boyfriend is thinking the same thing from the way he shoots you a smile.

but you refuse to lose, not when you’ve held out for this long. before your hand reaches the spinner, a blaring noise fills the room.

the two of you look at each other, and this time it’s you who shoots him a knowing smile. he glowers at you as he twists his body to stand up. once he stands up fully erect, your arms and legs give out, your body crumpling onto the floor.

as you lay there, a delicious scent fills your nostrils. automatically, you rise to your feet, skittering over to join your boyfriend by the oven. he takes notice of your presence, and defensively holds his arms out, “don’t you dare come anywhere near my cake. you might ruin it.”

your mouth hangs open, reaching out to give his chest a playful shove, “hey i’m good at baking. i just had a few…mishaps.” your voice trails off momentarily, “plus i just beat you at twister, so technically we’re tied for today!”

tsukishima clicks his tongue, obviously irritated at the fact that he most likely would have won if it weren’t for the timer going off.

“let’s play another round, loser has to wash all the dishes.” he extends his hand out to you.

grabbing his hand, you give it a firm shake, “you’re on! prepare to lose, kei.”

your grip loosens but before you can completely pull your hand away, you’re tugged against tsukishima’s body. in one swift motion his lips capture yours in a chaste kiss. after a moment, he pulls away slightly, letting your lips brush against each other as he speaks, “whatever you say, love. but just remember today is my birthday.”

a/n: hello!! i’m putting my final author’s note here just because i didn’t wanna spoil the ending hehe. anyways i hope you guys liked the ending now i’m thinking about doing twister hc with haikyuu sooooooo look out for that :)

[wtfevenismypage]

Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey

request: Hotch x male reader where the reader gets taken by the unsub but the readers like being a sarcastic shit and making his situation worse and when you manages to escape hatch finds out about the sarcasm and general disregard for how serious the situation was and is worried but also happy and pissed

Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Depictions of torture, kidnapping

A/N: Have I told y’all how much I like writing sassy readers? 

A scalding pain in your rib shocks you awake.And upon looking around, you discover it’s a knife, slicing patterns and scribbles into your skin.

“Shit.”

You whine out, throwing your head back in pain.

“Look who’s awake.”

“Hey. Got any eggs? Bacon?”

You chuckle to yourself, delirious due to the pain. You had a generally high pain tolerance, but being cut up like a piece of meat will hurt anyone. 

“Nope. No eggs. No bacon. Only a knife and two hands.”

“Ooooo kinky. I like it rough, how’d you know?”

He doesn’t seem to find your totally funny joke funny at all. He digs the knife a little bit deeper, eliciting a loud groan from your lips.

“You think you’re funny?”

“Oh I think I’m hilarious.”

You speak between groans, unable to not joke in a situation like this. Sarcasm is a human’s best defense in your opinion, it could piss people off to the point of your release and that’s exactly what you needed.

“See bud, you chose the worst person on the team to kidnap, I am unbreakable. Many have tried, all have failed.”

You smirk through the pain as he stands, walking away briefly before returning with a camera. You almost laugh.

“Why the hell do you guys keep doing this? Every time one of us gets kidnapped people film it. You gonna show my team?”

“Not them. I’ll be streaming to the dark web to see who wants you. Maybe I’ll cut off your fingers, keep ‘em for myself.”

You just chuckled as he turned it on, streaming it to the dark web where your team was surely watching.

“Ugh, Hotch is gonna be so mad that I got caught. I can only imagine the lecture I’ll get.”

Your jokes really don’t seem to be impressing the short man. The grimace on his face seemed annoyed and angry, he wanted to slice you up into little pieces already, but he was all about giving a good show. 

“Stop talking or I’ll cut your throat.”

“Awww, but then you won’t hear all of my precious screams! Don’t you want to hear them? I bet other people will. They’ll be so disappointed in you.”

You can practically feel Your unit chiefs glare on you as you continue to taunt the man. Hotch was well aware of your joking ways, how you never took anything seriously unless one of the agents on your team or another innocent was in danger or injured.

“That’s it you brat. I’m gonna make you scream.”

He raises the knife to your bare stomach, plunging the smooth blade in, gaining a loud groan from you as he yanks it out, admiring the way the blood spills out of your body.

“Shit.”

You groan, Breathing heavily as he continues to stab you once more. You refuse to give him what he wants though. He wants a reaction, a scream of pain, anything but your bullshit. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere. What? You want attention? You won’t get any, I’m the one getting the attention, as always, and you, you are just in the shadows pulling the strings.”

That earned you an aggressive slice across your torso, a gasp of pain hissing out of your lips as groans and moans follow.

“Was it a sibling? Huh? You were always living in their shadow, constantly compared to them? Hurts knowing that they were always better?”

His expression darkened and you knew immediately that you were right. A sibling that was in the light, He was their shadow.

“She wasn’t no better than me! I deserved the attention not her!”

Your breathing became labored as you bled onto your pants, the pain becoming a sharp ache as the adrenaline keeps you awake. Shockingly, the only thing keeping you alive was the large slice directing itself from your right pec to your lower left side of your tummy.

“You’re right. She isn’t any better than you. Just please, stop with the knife. I get it okay? It isn’t fun being in someone’s shadow, trust me I know. The higher ups are training me to be the next unit chief, and they never stop comparing me to Hotch. I mean come on! We’re complete opposites! And really, no one could live up to him! Dude, I understand you.”

His face brightens, a look of sympathy on his face. Oh boy Hotch was definitely going to kill you. 

“You do?”

 You struggle to plant a smile on your face, sweat and a tear or two mixing together on your cheeks. This guy sickened you to your core.

“Yeah! I promise you, untie me and I promise I’ll make sure you escape. You don’t deserve what happened to you man! I’ll be sure you get out of here and you’ll get away with it, but I can’t do that with my hands behind my back.”

You shrug your shoulders, Heaving violently as he quickly crosses behind you and unties your wrists and ankles. They feel tight, achy. Itching to kick this guys ass.

“Alright, give me a second to gather myself, or else I’m gonna pass out.”

You say, leaning over and breathing shallow breaths as he crosses back in front of you. To catch him off guard, you grab the back of his neck with both hands and bash it into your knee. 

Two tight grips latch onto your wrists as you continue to beat him up. He groans and tries to fight you off, but fails, falling to the floor unconscious.

“Alright, goodbye dark web, and possibly my team, I have a hospital to crawl to.”

You groan as more blood seeps out of your wounds as you walk away, hunched over.

There was no way in hell you were going to make it back to the station without bleeding out, but maybe someone will see you from a street and take you to a hospital.

That’s really the best bet for now.

And as soon as you reached the the pretty much empty street, you could feel your mind weighing itself down, shutting down your arms, legs, and eyes at last as your entire body crashes down on the asphalt.

-

-

-

-

-

You wake up with a steady beep next to your head. Chatter of people rushing by your room with a beeping of a phone a few feet away. Your eyes flutter open slowly, a sharp ache in your torso.

Penelope is sitting right next to you, her hand gripped in yours as she scrolls through her phone, streaks of tears on her cheeks.

“Hey Garcia...”

You manage to rasp out, her head darts up, staring at you in shock.

“Oh my god! Y/N I thought I lost you! Never do that again!”

You chuckle as she begins crying again, squeezing her hand tightly as she pulls turns to the hall, calling a doctor in.

-

-

-

-

-

It’s been a day since you woke up, and a few people came to visit you. Spencer stopped by with Morgan, the two brought you some milk, because according to Morgan “the milk in the hospital tastes like gasoline” and Spencer told you all of the vitamins that this brand had put in it.

Penelope hadn’t actually left, And Emily came in to bring you your favorite scarf as a little token of home. Rossi and JJ brought you pasta and played poker with you and Spencer (Spencer let you win).

The only person who hadn’t visited was Hotch. And that fact made you nervous. The only reason you could think of was that he either blamed himself or he was upset with you and didn’t want you in his sight.

You opted it was the latter.

So when you bolted awake from a nightmare, Forehead dripping in sweat and Hotch’s hands at your shoulders, you were terrified. He reassured you that you were safe and calmed you down before sitting back down.

“Hi sir...”

“Sir? Y/L/N call me Hotch. I’m here to check up on you and take a file. You up for that?”

You manage to nod, wiping the sweat off of your forehead before sitting up slowly, groaning at the feeling of the scarring skin on your torso.

“Alright, walk me through what happened, if at any time you feel uncomfortable you can stop. No explanations needed.”

You nod, an uneasy smirk on your lips. You were struggling to keep your sarcastic easy-going front up and you knew Hotch could see straight through it. You were just glad he was patient enough not to say anything.

“Well, after you sent me home I obviously didn’t go home. I went to a bar. A guy there told me to follow him once I was drunk off of my ass, so I accepted his gracious offer.”

You let out a dry chuckle, recalling the night until the end.

“When we got to a private room, he uh... He brought a cloth up to my mouth once we were in the bed. And... Next thing I know I wake up with... With a knife in me.”

Breathing and the beeping of the machines behind you was all that could be heard for a moment before you continued.

“I tried to remain strong... He really wanted to see me break. But I uh... I continued to use my obvious charm and sarcasm to piss him off more. Which only uh... It only made things worse.”

He sighed, staring at you in disbelief.

“You know, I saw what happened, we were all watching. All of your training for situations like that just flew out the window. Why?”

His tone was sharp, harsh. He wasn’t angry, more disappointed than anything.

“I... I don’t know... I just panicked and went freestyle! I blacked out and forgot! I’m sorry alright! I escaped though! I got out and learned his motivation!”

“Yeah, and he escaped.”

“Oh I’m so sorry your highness! I was more focused on getting out of there alive and getting information than bringing him in! And anyways, now we have more to add to the profile! I saw his face we can track him down!”

Hotch’s eyes flashed between your heaving state and the machine next to you, your heart rate was rising at a rapid pace as you spiraled into a coughing fit.

“Alright, you’re right Y/N, calm down. We’ll catch him, but you need to stay here and rest. Please.”

He pleaded, setting a warm hand on your thigh which seemed to calm you down instantly. You settled back into the uncomfortably stiff hospital bed, closing your eyes for a moment as everything sinks in.

“I’m tired Hotch. You saw the rest that happened yeah? Well there you go. There’s your file. Now just... Leave me alone.”

You whine like a little boy, one of your hands tracing your stab wounds on your stomach as tears slip out of the closed slits of your eyes.

“Y/L/N, I’m relieved that you’re alright. And I’m sorry that I sent you home, I should have let you stayed longer as you asked to. I-”

“Hotch, stop it. I don’t blame you in the slightest and neither should you. I should have gone home instead of going to a bar and I shouldn’t have drank or followed that guy. Don’t blame yourself for my idiocy.”

You hesitantly placed a hand over his, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. You kept your eyes shut however, not having the guts to meet his eyes.

Meanwhile Hotch was having an internal battle on whether or not he should press a soft kiss to your hand or not. You were tired, ragged and torn down.

But with a calm breath, he raised your hand to his face, and pressed a slow and thoughtful kiss to your palm. His lips were soft and warm, they sent shivers up your spine and left a tingly sensation on your skin when they left.

“Rest well Y/L/N. I’ll visit tomorrow.”

He left you alone again and you smiled widely, the first real smile in a while. He knew how to match you perfectly. He knew you so well.

And oh boy was this going to be interesting.

PERMANENT TAGLIST(OPEN) @pinkdiamond1016 @spencer-reids-snow-white @sheepfather @eusuntgroot @libradolan @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @zhangyixingxing1 @secretpickleprofessordean @aquarius-pisces-rose

IF YOUR NAME IS CROSSED OUT I COULDN’T TAG YOU, SORRY!

[hysterialevi]

Vargr - An AC: Valhalla Fanfic

Fanfic summary: Sigurd finds Eivor after a vicious wolf attack and brings him to safety.

Point of view: third-person

Fanfic idea by @molstkiwi​​ (thank you for the suggestion!)

This story is also on AO3

SOMEWHERE IN NORWAY

NIGHTTIME

He could hear them. 

He could still hear their screams.

Even though the gods had carried him far away from the mayhem wrought by Kjtove’s hand, Sigurd could still hear the hurricane of distant shrieks that clung onto the air, and traveled endlessly into the night’s abyss.

There was a line of fire sitting just above the horizon, and even though his vision had been impaired by a disorienting blur, Sigurd could see the longhouse crumbling into ash as the flames of Múspellsheimr itself ravaged the very bones of its structure.

As for Eivor -- the boy was nowhere to be seen.

He was thrown off their horse when Kjtove’s men shot it down, and much to the boy’s dismay, Sigurd had landed on a crown of rocks just above the frozen lake that he himself had been trapped on.

There was no one else to rescue them at the moment, and it didn’t seem like anyone was coming anytime soon.

“...E-Eivor...?” Sigurd murmured weakly, writhing in the snow. “...Are you there...?”

He planted a firm hand against the rock, trying to push himself up. His head was still throbbing from the bash he endured earlier, and despite his attempts to ignore it, an intense pain now battered his skull, racking his brain like the strike of a club.

“...Eivor...” Sigurd repeated, his voice scraping against his throat. “...Where... where are you...?”

Rolling onto his back, the boy turned around to face the vast blanket of darkness hovering above him as a string of turquoise lights rippled through the void, painting the land below in a shimmering haze.

He could see a lone raven circling in the air like a messenger sent from the Allfather himself, and in the midst of all the different sounds that clouded his ears, Sigurd heard the creature let out a single caw, crying out to him as if it were beckoning the boy to follow.

He didn’t know what was going on, or if Eivor was even still alive, but for some reason, Sigurd felt a newfound panic gripping his chest, causing his body to stir once more.

“...Eivor...!” He said as loudly as he could, “...say something...!”

Contrary to what he expected, someone actually responded this time.

“Sigurd...!” A familiar voice cried out, followed by the distant growling of a wolf. “Help me!”

A sharp scream suddenly pierced through the shadows, shattering the stillness of the night.

Sigurd jerked his head up in alarm, realizing what was going on.

“Eivor!” He exclaimed, forcing himself up from the rock. “Hold on!”

Practically throwing himself over the edge, Sigurd instantly climbed off the small cliff he had landed on and hurriedly made his way down to the bed of ice, desperately trying to reach his younger brother.

The boy had gone silent ever since he let out that scream, and considering how there was now a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him, Sigurd assumed he had already been mauled -- if not killed.

“Stay back!” He shouted as he descended onto the ice, trying to lure the wolf’s attention away from Eivor. “Leave him alone!”

Flicking his eyes across lake, Sigurd spotted an axe lying on the ground and immediately darted for it, doing his best not to strain the ice beneath his feet.

He wrapped his hand around the hilt and hauled the weighty weapon up from the ground, slamming it in the wolf’s direction as the blade went slicing through its fur.

“Get away from him!” Sigurd yelled, raising his arm as he prepared to deliver another blow.

Just before he could cut the wolf down however, a storm of ravens suddenly soared through the air and targeted the beast with a relentless hostility, forcing the wild creature to retreat into the woods. 

He didn’t know where on earth these ravens had come from, or why they decided to help, but they seemed to share his protective nature and scared the wolf away from the fallen child, giving Sigurd the chance he needed to save him.

“It’s okay, Eivor...” he whispered softly, sliding the axe into his belt. “Just hold on. I’m going to get you somewhere safe. You’re going to be alright. Just please, hold on...!”

Slipping his arms underneath the boy, Sigurd lifted Eivor into his embrace and quickly rushed him away from the brutal scene, not wanting to run into any more of Kjotve’s men. 

He had no idea where his father was, or if he had survived the raid, but just based on the muffled shouts he heard echoing in the distance, Sigurd knew Kjtove’s clan had begun to spread out into the wilds -- possibly to search for survivors -- and were rapidly nearing his location.

“Shit...!” He cursed under his breath, bringing Eivor into the woods. 

Weaving his way through the cluster of trees, Sigurd trudged through the thick snow as his boots sunk into its depths and slowed with its persistent clutch, wearing him out more and more with every move.

The orange glow of nearby torches could be seen painting the white bark of the woods around him, and in the beams of its light, Sigurd saw the menacing shadows of Kjtove’s men slithering along the uneven surface of the trees, dancing like ripples in a lake.

At first, they didn’t appear to notice the boy, but after an unfortunate step on a fallen twig, they suddenly heard an abrupt snap, causing them to jolt their heads in his direction.

“Over there!” One of them alerted, pointing into the forest. “There’s someone in the woods!”

Picking up his pace, Sigurd instantly broke into a sprint upon hearing the man’s cries and charged through the seemingly endless labyrinth of trees, swiveling around the plethora of arrows that came flying towards him.

The light of their torches was growing brighter with each passing second, and once Sigurd reached the edge of the forest’s hold, he found himself running out into the open, leaving him completely vulnerable to their attacks.

“Get the horses, you fools!” A man ordered. “Don’t let him escape!”

Tightening his grip on Eivor, Sigurd mustered as much strength as his body would allow him and bolted across the frozen fields, fleeing for his life at a pace that he didn’t know he was capable of.

Meanwhile, Kjtove’s men fervently galloped towards the boy from behind and trampled their way through the barren meadows, causing the earth to tremble underneath the strength of their mounts.

A hurricane of snow billowed in the raiders’ wake, and as they chased Sigurd into the uncharted corners of Norway’s wilderness, a flock of ravens began gathering above them, gliding along with the wispy movement of the Northern Lights.

“Don’t give up now!” They shouted. “We’ve almost got him!”

Whipping their reigns with a firm tug, Kjotve’s men urged their horses to go faster as puffs of mist rose from the animals’ flared nostrils, spreading into the ice-cold wind that was currently searing into their flesh.

In the meantime, Sigurd continued with his journey and frantically searched the area for any means of escape, only to spot a bridge sitting quietly in the distance. It spanned across a wide river that divided two large rock formations, and had nothing more than a few strings of rope to hold it in place.

It was narrow, rickety, and weathered with age. If Sigurd could get across, it’d be the perfect opportunity for him to trap Kjotve’s men on the other side.

He decided to go for it.

Ignoring the intense ache that now gripped onto his legs, Sigurd clenched his jaw in pain and rushed towards the bridge, practically levitating off the ground with how fast his feet were moving. Kjotve’s men were no more than a few meters behind him now, and if he didn’t get to the bridge in time, they’d soon cut him down like they did with the rest of Eivor’s clan.

Racing towards the edge of the cliff, Sigurd didn’t even spare a second thought before sprinting across the bridge’s loosened planks of wood, causing the structure to wobble under his weight. 

By now, some of Kjotve’s men had dismounted their horses due to the small width of the bridge’s path, but based on the fact that they were unsheathing their weapons instead of chasing after him, Sigurd realized that they were planning to cut him down first.

“...No, no, no, no...!” He muttered to himself, making haste for the opposite side.

But it was too late.

Just as Sigurd began to step off the bridge, he suddenly felt the wood beneath his feet collapsing into the emptiness below, urging him to throw Eivor onto the solid ground ahead of him.

Meanwhile, Sigurd’s heart froze in fear as he plummeted towards the raging river, causing him to let out a panicked shout. There was a multitude of jagged rocks sitting in the water, and as he watched Eivor’s unconscious body vanish into the distance, he could’ve sworn he saw the gates of Valhalla themselves, waiting to welcome him.

Right before he could fall to his demise however, Sigurd suddenly felt something wrapping itself around his arm, holding him in place. He was suspended in the air like a fish on a hook, and upon gazing upwards into the illuminated sky, Sigurd saw the stark silhouette of a man holding onto his wrist.

A breathy chuckle escaped his savior’s lips, leading the boy to instantly recognize his voice.

“I got you, you crazy boy...!” Styrbjorn called out. “Come here.”

Letting out a strained grunt, the battle-worn king steadily pulled his son up from death’s embrace and hauled him onto the ground next to Eivor, sighing in relief once he was safe.

It looked like the rest of Styrbjorn’s clan had already regrouped with their leader, and judging by the small crowds of people scattered around the region, Sigurd assumed that most of them had survived.

“Father...!” The boy exclaimed, panting out of fatigue. “I... Kjtove’s men... they... they almost...”

Styrbjorn placed a comforting hand on Sigurd’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Breathe, boy. You’re safe now. You have nothing to fear.”

His son gestured to Eivor. “But... Eivor...”

Following Sigurd’s gaze, Styrbjorn’s eyes widened in concern when he finally noticed the wounds embedded into the child’s neck, leading him to cradle Eivor in his hold.

“Blood of Tyr...!” He whispered in shock. “What happened to him?”

Sigurd crawled next to his father. “A wolf attacked him after we fled the village. I tried to help him, but I... I was too late. It already bit his throat. He could die, father! We... we need to--”

Styrbjorn held up a reassuring hand, observing Eivor’s injuries. “--Worry not, my son. We will help him. He’s not beyond saving just yet.”

“...And his parents? What about them?”

The king’s expression sagged with grief. “...They’re both dead, Sigurd. Kjotve slaughtered them in cold blood just before you arrived. I’m afraid Eivor is the only one left.”

Sigurd stared at the man in disbelief. “...What? It’s just him? There’s no one else?”

Styrbjorn shook his head. “Not that we know of. But let us not dwell on that. There will be plenty of time for mourning later. Right now, we need to focus on getting Eivor to safety and mending these wounds.” The man stood up from the ground, carrying Eivor in his arms. “Thank you for saving him, Sigurd. You did well today.”

The boy remained seated on the ground, still worn out from the chase. “I haven’t saved him yet. Just, please... make sure he’ll be okay. He’s... he’s like a brother to me.”

Styrbjorn nodded in understanding. “I know, son. We’ll bring him to Svala. She will take good care of him. You have my word. Now, come along. We should get out of this treacherous place whilst we have the chance. Kjotve’s men still lurk in the shadows.”

He turned to the rest of his clan, raising his voice so they could hear him. “Everyone! It’s time to move out! Stick close, and keep your eyes sharp.”

Standing up from the snow, Sigurd mirrored his father’s actions and followed the trail laid out before them, gladly removing himself from the threat of Kjotve’s clan. Every fiber in his body wanted nothing more than to collapse into the comfort of a warm bed, but for the time being, he was just relieved that he had been able to get Eivor away from that wolf.

Part of him feared that the boy had died already when he first saw him. He was just... lying there. Like a discarded doll. Lifeless, defenseless, robbed of everyone he loved most in life. The gods had been cruel with Eivor’s fate today, and Sigurd was not eager to tell him all that transpired once he awoke.

For now though, he simply kept his mind on the task at hand. If Eivor was going to survive, he’d need Sigurd to be at his best. And he did not intend to let him down.

“Sigurd!” A man called out, drawing the boy out of his thoughts. 

“Gunnar,” Sigurd replied to the blacksmith. “You made it.”

“Indeed. One of Kjotve’s rats nearly planted his blade into my heart, but by the grace of the gods, I live to fight for another day. Though, I’m more concerned about you. How do you fare, little drengr? You seem distressed.”

Sigurd brought his gaze back to Eivor, watching in worry as Styrbjorn carried his limp body away.

“I fear for Eivor’s life, Gunnar. He may not be dead yet, but what if he dies before we get him to Svala? He doesn’t have much time left.”

The blacksmith patted Sigurd’s back, attempting to calm the boy’s nerves.

“Do not underestimate Eivor, Sigurd. He is young, yes, but he has the blood of warriors running through his veins. He is stronger than he looks. You know this.”

Sigurd didn’t share Gunnar’s confidence. “But he’s just a child. A boy. Braver men have fallen to the kiss of a wolf in the past. What makes you so certain that he’ll survive?”

“Because the Nornir gave you the chance to save him,” the blacksmith answered. “You had half of Kjotve’s clan chasing you through these woods, and yet, against all odds, you made it out alive. Why else would the Nornir spare you like that, if not to save Eivor’s life? That boy has always had the gods’ favor. They will not let him die without a fight, and neither will you.”

Sigurd took Gunnar’s words to heart. “Well, that’s one thing you’re right about.”

The blacksmith smiled warmly. “Do not fear, my prince. Eivor will pull through. You’ll see. It will take more than an oath-breaking leech like Kjotve to bring him down.”

Gunnar picked up his pace, walking ahead of the boy. “Come, now. We shouldn’t linger. Eivor’s life teeters on the brink of death, and whether or not he is pulled back from the edge depends on us. Especially on you.”

Sigurd shrugged. “How much can I do? I’m no healer.”

The other man chuckled. “You mean, aside from rescuing him from a wolf and escaping the clutches of Kjotve’s raiders? You may not be a healer like Svala is, Sigurd, but you have your own ways of saving people. And that’s why you’ll make a good king someday. I can tell.”

Gunnar beckoned the boy. “But enough about that. This night has been long, and we have many dead to send off to the corpse hall. Your father is going to be a busy man in the days to come, and he will need you at his side. ...As will Eivor.”

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 35

Read on AO3. Part 34 here. Part 36 here.

Summary: So, like, at least we're all in a graveyard already?

Words: 3400

Warnings: gratuitous violence... again

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Another early update? Can't help myself--I've been quarantined myself (I'm usually working all THREE of my jobs lmfao), this week, so I've had a little extra time to write. Sometimes I worry how self-indulgent this fic is, but then I remember that it's for fun and who cares.

Y'all's comments seriously make my life better, and I can't thank you enough for your kind words and for letting me know what you think. It's so encouraging to know people are enjoying my indulgence LMFAO. Please stay safe, and I love you so much! <3

If looks could kill, Kylo Ren’s gaze was genocide.

Like lightning itself, he caught you and dove behind one of the tombs, more bullets pinging off the marble. His face was tight, chin quaking while he shoved your back to the grave, staring into your wound as if it were a canyon. Pain still dulled by adrenaline, you watched him, fighting to focus on your breath--you’d started shaking, too, mind hijacked by shock and terror. You didn’t know how much you were bleeding. You didn’t want to look.

Kylo glanced up--his eyes caught something, or someone--and he turned back to you, swallowing as he snagged the bottom of your nightgown and rended it with bare fists. He shredded a thin strip of cloth from your skirt and lifted your arm, wrapping it above your wound. You whimpered, heaving with panic, but he was quick, his makeshift tourniquet halting the frightened ache as it stymied the bloodflow.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

His gaze flicked beyond you again. “Quiet.”

While crouched, his hand snuck into his jacket, clicking the safety of his gun and cocking the hammer. He stilled, tracking his target--you held your breath--before rising and popping off a single shot. Behind you, a cry of pain, and Kylo lunged, jumping the tomb, stalking through the grass. You spun to watch, clutching your arm to your side.

The gunman had fallen to the ground, groaning as Kylo approached, a hunter seeking his spoils. Though he was meters away, collapsed at the edge of the clearing--perhaps that meant, mercifully, he’d missed the desecration of the dead--you could tell he was wearing an Angel’s uniform. Your Commander snatched the intruder by the helmet and tore it off, wrenching him up, and slammed his skull against a headstone, gun at his head.

“Talk.”

The man wheezed, wriggling in Kylo’s grip, who whacked his temple on the grave, sneering, his self-control whittling by the nanomoment.

“Two seconds.”

“I’m a scout!” He seethed, trying to twist to meet Kylo’s eyes. “I’m a scout, I’m--please don’t kill me--”

Kylo bashed him with the butt of the pistol. “Who.”

“Enric Pryde!” His hands went up in deference. “It’s a bunch of his men coming. They said you’d be here with a Handmaid.” He gasped, shaking his head. “It’s a coup, they want you dead or alive!”

A pause. Your Commander was still, frozen in rage.

“Please, let me go, I’m only a scout, I was told to find you!” The soldier was still turning, pleading for mercy. “I, I mean, personally, I would never try to hurt you, sir, but I saw th-the Handmaid, and I didn’t think you’d, you’d care, she’s just a Handmaid and we were told to kill her anyway--”

Kylo swiveled the man’s head, drove his teeth against the edge of the grave and snarled, stomping his skull into the stone. A sharp crack as his jaw snapped, brain crushed to the granite, limbs limp and eyes bulging from their sockets. Face blank, Kylo ground his heel into the man’s scalp, splintering the bones and spilling blood onto the dirt before throwing the body to the side like trash.

Your hand clapped your mouth, jaw dropped, and he marched over, a silhouette of death in the storm, lodging your heart in your throat. When he reached you, he squatted, examining your arm, raising it in his hand and eliciting a wince while he monitored your movement. His jaw stiffened, his eyes met yours, so furious that the air fled your lungs, and before you could speak, he gathered you and threw you over his shoulder.

“They’re coming,” he said. “Don’t move.”

Trembling, you nodded. “O-okay.”

His body was solid, and you let yourself hang, at first lifting your head to watch your surroundings, then rejecting the neck strain. If this man wasn’t the same one who had just coddled you in the downpour, the same one who’d whispered angel into your ear when he made you cum, you would’ve been horrified, striving to escape. But as he strode forward, and you watched his parents’ gravesite grow distant, you felt like a child--one who, instead of fearing the monster under her bed, had invited him inside of it and sought safety in his embrace.

An intake of breath, he tensed--pop, pop, pop, pop--you screamed, scratching at his back, and he jostled you in his grip.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

You grimaced. “What was that?”

“Vermin.”

He said nothing more, changing course, and when he turned, you saw four bodies piled at the bottom of a hill, swallowed by the grown, wet grass. You exhaled, swaying with him while he crossed to what you knew to be the forest. When you entered the understory, damp leaves flooded your nose, the canopy draping you both in clouded darkness. Thankfully, adrenaline was still coursing through your system--the pain at your arm was numbed, though it felt like a lead weight, and your senses were heightened. The world sharpened in your eyes, storm booming in your ears. Kylo was a predator, moving in long, careful steps, creeping through the trees, muscles rolling like stone underneath you.

Your brain spun, trying to process what you’d heard; you remembered the name Enric from the Council meeting, he’d been that silver-haired sycophant who’d mentioned all of his concerns. Though you’d known Kylo to have enemies in Gilead, you hadn’t realized just how many there were--or how serious they seemed about righting his errors (errors, you noted silently, he’d made for the benefit of you).

The squelch of boots in puddles--he stopped, spun toward the perimeter. Yards away, you heard it too: hushed voices, a group of men squeaking through the plot of tall graves adjacent to the forest. Your pulse quickened, you tapped his back.

“We can just leave them,” you whispered. “We don’t have to--”

With a shrug of his shoulder, he rolled you down his arm and plopped you against a tree, not bothering to offer a glance before he trudged forward, hunched, his pistol gripped in both hands. You shifted, free arm assisting as you scooted around the trunk, your Commander skulking through the shadows, a panther electrified with bloodlust. As he approached, you could count four--no, five men, two posted together, peering around a giant slab decorated with three metal crosses, two behind them, each hiding behind big graves, and one at the back, peeking above a short, fat headstone. They were all Angels in military gear, all armed with bayonet-knife rifles, all whispering in panic.

“Split up. Two of us push forward, other three take the clearing--”

Kylo sidled up to a tree trunk, spying beyond it.

“All of Bravo just got killed in the clearing.”

He swooped low, darting behind another tree, his footfalls muffled by the storm.

“We can’t just stand here, we’re sitting ducks! He could be in the forest right now!”

Thunder rumbled, masking him as he emerged from the woods, bearing down from behind his prey.

“I mean, it’s one guy with one gun, how deadly can he really be?”

That was the Angel closest to you--and now, especially, to Kylo, who was only feet away, back against a tall, engraved dedication, neck craning to analyze.

“You don’t know anything about Commander Ren, do you?”

That same Commander Ren stepped from the stone, pistol pointed at the closest man’s head, at the base of where his helmet met his neck.

“No.” Lightning snapped. “Why?”

Thunder cracked, the muzzle flashed--blood spat the air and the soldier fell, forehead smacking the granite as he crumpled to the ground.

The Angels in front of him spun in a string of curses; at Kylo’s left, the man shot from the hip, but Kylo side-stepped, spinning on his heel with his gun raised--pop, pop. That Angel ducked, tackling the ground, while the one to Kylo’s right ran with a roar, bayonet brandished like a spear. Kylo scowled, caught the barrel in his massive hand, and jerked it up, throwing the man from his feet and slamming him into the muck.

The two from the front had vaulted the big grave; Kylo’s head cocked, and he snarled, plugging each of them with a bullet. One wilted, back breaking when he hit the stone behind him, and the other toppled to his knees, clutching his chest, blood spewing from his mouth. Behind your Commander, the two he’d laid to the ground were standing, stumbling toward him. He leapt the corpse and headstone, wrenched a metal cross from the display, and whirled. The two men stalled, raised their weapons, but Kylo dipped, sneering as he drove his pistol into the mouth of one Angel and the cross’s edge into the throat of the other. A pull of a trigger--brain matter burst through the soldier’s helmet, he dropped; the other quaked, gargling fountains of blood, his carotid cleaved in two.

Spattered in scarlet, Kylo twisted the cross in the man’s neck and shoved him to the mud, failing to see the last Angel, still sputtering, struggling to stand. He wobbled, fumbling for his rifle, his hands slipping on the muddy grip. Forgoing that, he floundered and ran, flinging onto your Commander’s back with a howl. You squealed, covering your mouth--every instinct told you to try and help, every reality kept you chained to the tree. Teeth bared, Kylo wavered, thrashing as he wedged the man’s arm from his neck and pitched forward, throwing him over his shoulders and smashing him into a puddle.

He coughed a fat wad of blood onto Kylo’s face--Kylo seethed, pinned the Angel’s neck with his heel and blew his skull open. The body twitched with death, and Kylo exhaled. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and turned to the forest, marching through the thickets, heading to where he’d left you.

Up close, he smelled of iron, red spackling his face and hair and hands. He squatted and examined your arm again, testing its tension, watching your face for pain. It was a way of checking, you knew, that you could still feel it, that you hadn’t drifted into shock.

A muscle under his nose fluttered. “Say your name.”

You blinked--another test--and said it.

Kylo stood and tossed you over his shoulder, clutching you close while he trekked through the woods and into the graveyard. Though you couldn’t see, you’d remembered how you’d arrived--beyond the valley before him was a handful of mausoleums punctuating the long-neglected cemetery grounds. You could only whimper as he tread forth, the dead-see grass trampled to mud under his terrible stride.

Behind you (and in front of him) you heard the screeching of vehicles. Kylo went rigid, dashing right; it was only split seconds before bullets whizzed by you and you screamed, burying your face in his sopping coat. He spanked you--spanked you?--in admonishment, sliding through the sludge at the back of a vine-entombed mausoleum, only to carry you behind a large, marble headstone. You splashed in the warm rain, and sought his gaze; his eyes were glittering with excitement, his chest swelling. He was as you’d seen him in Snoke’s mansion: an animal crazed, thirsty to kill. You shivered.

Kylo offered only silence when he dumped you behind the grave, lightning shattering the sky--you poked your head above the stone, flinching when your arm throbbed with latent pain. As he slunk to the mausoleum, two Angels rushed the right corner; he ended them both with single shots to the head.

Back pressed to the wall, Kylo waited. To his left, two more soldiers breached his sight--he yanked the rifle around the corner and wrestled its owner to the dirt. The man behind him barreled forth, weapon raised; Kylo surged toward him and clobbered him across the face with his pistol. He seethed--your Commander holstered his own gun, yanked the rifle free from the Angel’s hands, and riddled them both with bullets. They toppled, a bloody pile at his feet.

You felt your wound, at this point, pulsing and hot in your flesh--you thanked whatever power above you was keeping your system pumped full of epinephrine, as you had the sneaking suspicion that once it wore off, hot would fail to begin to describe it. More gunshots, you looked up; an Angel on the right was shooting blind, aiming around the corner of the mausoleum. His bullets went wide, missing Kylo by yards, and Kylo swept forward, jerking the man from the corner and jabbing his bayonet into his throat.

He gurgled, a red waterfall pouring down his neck, the knife abandoned inside as he crumbled to the ground. His partner appeared, stabbing past the wall--Kylo dodged, wrenched the rifle forward and wrangled him into the crook of his elbow. The man yelped, flailed under his strength, and Kylo tugged him back, tearing his weapon from his hands. Two more Angels approached from the right; your Commander flipped the rifle into the air and caught it by the grip, mashing the man’s throat in the headlock. He pivoted, stiff arm pointed over his shoulder, and sprayed hail through their heads--they slumped into the other and tumbled, lifeless, to the ground. Hearing them fall, Kylo curled his long fingers around his current victim’s helmet, gripped it, and snapped his spine; the soldier flopped and Kylo released him with a sigh.

To the right and left, you saw two sets of three men approaching, each taking a side of the mausoleum. Perhaps sensing this, Kylo confiscated another rifle, peered around the side; bullets whizzed by, and he cursed, looking between you and the wall at his back. He leered at you--you knew that meant get down--and you did, only catching the start of your Commander snagging a fistful of vines and clambering the wall.

A blink of lightning, rumble of thunder, the slosh of boots in rain. Waiting in silence was near-impossible, given the burgeoning burn in your arm, but the thought of being discovered tempered your pain response. Hoping to keep your heart pumping, you scooted, peeking from the ground, seeing Kylo atop the mausoleum, a frenzied fiend, poised to pounce. The two sets of men turned the corner at once, rifles ready, only to meet each other, halting in confusion.

One of the men whipped his head around. “Where’d he--”

To your unfortunate luck, he spotted you.

“Hey!” He aimed his rifle and spun, losing balance in the muck.

The others noticed you, whirling weapons in your direction. Your heart skipped. You forgot to breathe.

The men aimed, and Kylo Ren launched from the roof, flipping into a pirouette, lightning wings exploding from his shadow. He slammed between you with a thunderclap, unleashing a torrent of death into the line of soldiers, bodies splattering like a gruesome glissando against the mausoleum. They scraped the stone, slouching sacks revealing a rainbow, oozing rusty rivers to the ground.

Your Commander exhaled, kneeling in the storm for several breaths before climbing to his feet, rounding on you, eyes aflame--as he did, a persistent Angel scrambled to stand. Bayonet-first, he barreled toward Kylo.

Kylo pivoted with a growl, grappling his own rifle and charging the soldier; with his superior reach, his bayonet pierced the man’s chest, and he drove him back, howling with fury, until the soldier slammed the wall. Sneering, he ripped the knife free, letting him collapse, leaving behind a bloody blot in the center of the crimson cascade painting the wall.

The wind wailed. Kylo’s shoulders fell, the only physical evidence of his exhaustion, water racing over his frame. After an empty moment, he turned and crossed over to you, face still etched with wrath. Whimpering, you cowered. You knew you’d fucked up.

“Do you listen?” he said through clenched teeth. “I gave you one order.”

You nodded, shame heating your cheeks. Kylo crouched, seized your chin, pinching your jaw in his thick fingers, smearing the scent of copper over your skin.

“Move without my permission again,” he said, “and I’ll make that bullet the last of your worries.”

You gulped. “I understand.”

He released you, glancing at your arm. Something flashed behind his eyes, and he leaned forward, easing you over his shoulder before standing.

“What is it?” you asked. “What’s wrong?”

But he said nothing, choosing instead to push through the rain. The ache at your arm was ballooning into a bubbling pain, streaking through your nerves, stealing your focus. Kylo cleared the final yards of the cemetery, carrying you to the parking lot. When you heard his boots hit clover-crusted pavement, he stopped, tense. He was silent, not even a breath drawn into his lungs. You didn’t speak. Or move.

Kylo lifted you from his shoulder, stepping behind one of the large black vans that had apparently shuttled the squads he’d obliterated, and planted you behind it. You stumbled, slightly dizzy, grabbing the side view mirror for balance. He observed your stability before blazing you with a glare and stalking toward the Audi.

Lightning flared, you saw Kylo circle the hood, head toward the passenger side--and then he snagged something behind the car, wrested it forward. Another Angel appeared, arm screwed in your Commander’s clutches, and with a single rough jerk, his pistol fell from his hand. Kylo caught it, wormed the soldier’s arm behind his back, and slammed him chest-first into the hood of the car. Another flicker of lightning, and his helmet was gone, the gun at his temple.

“One chance. Where’s Pryde. How many work for him.”

The man whinged. “I-I swear, I don’t--”

Kylo blew his brains over the Audi, chucked the pistol, and beat the man’s head into the hood. Heaving, he adjusted his grip, and struck it again, and again, and again, snarling as he bludgeoned a crater in the car with the bleeding skull. You watched, heart careening, shuddering with a reel of pain when he cast the body to the side and turned to face you, wracked with dying desperation. The storm had doused him watercolor crimson--a morbid, melting candle dripping red wet wax.

Perhaps it was conditioning, or perhaps it was the amplifying agony, eroding your rationality. Whatever it was, you found yourself utterly breathless at Kylo Ren’s brutality--yet only out of gratitude, out of knowledge that it was borne, bred within the very same hollow where he sheltered and nursed his affection for you.

With an exhale, he searched around the Audi, checking the undercarriage and examining the beneath the hood and trunk--scanning them, you supposed, for tampering. Apparently satisfied, he returned to you, and swung an arm under your knees, supporting your shoulders, cradling you to his powerful frame. You winced, letting your arm dangle, and he hustled you to the car, popping the back door open and stooping to lie you across the seats. Grimacing, you inched back--heat flushed your flesh in memory of the last time you’d been splayed over them. If Kylo remembered too, he didn’t show it; he waited until your feet were clear of the threshold before shutting the door and hopping in the driver’s seat.

“Stay still.”

He cranked the engine, gunned the gas--the car bounced as it flattened the Angel’s body to the asphalt--and peeled out of the parking lot. You groaned, squirming as fire seared your veins. The hurt had grown an angry heartbeat, now evident in the wake of dissipating adrenaline. Shivering, you drew in air through your nose, looping your free arm through the loose seatbelt in an attempt to anchor yourself.

“Where are we going?” Your voice was soft under the churning motor--he was flying down the streets.

“Quiet.”

Silence filled the car, and you released a slow, scared breath. Kylo glimpsed you for a blink, gaze glinting with fear. His throat bobbed.

“Home.”

You nodded, and allowed your eyes to close.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Empty and Full (1/1)

Title: Empty and Full By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: CA: TFA Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: “Steve Rogers kept his refrigerator stocked with cold, leftover, fast food chicken.” Angsty Steve with emotional eating. Written for the Steggy Bingo Bash prompt “Chicken.”

A/N: Potential TW for eating disorders/issues. This def came from a very visceral place for me as I do use food to deal with emotions, so if that is something that may be triggering to you, please skip this. Sorry that the Steggy is minimal… this idea took over for this prompt and there was no letting it go.

~*~

Steve Rogers kept his refrigerator stocked with cold, leftover, fast food chicken.

He’d tried it on a whim fairly early after his defrosting, encouraged by Natasha to “get some flavor” in his life after he’d commented on how the food he remembered seemed so bland in comparison to everything he was experiencing in this new time.

He made it through a thigh and breast from a bucket of KFC before tossing a half-eaten drumstick back into the bucket, shoving it in his refrigerator with the paper lid barely pushed in place. It was too spicy, too fatty, and didn’t quite taste like his mom used to make.

He forgot about it for a few days until a nightmare woke him, sweaty and swearing, swinging at shadows as the memories floated behind his eyes. Barely breathing, heart pounding in his chest, he paced through his apartment, needing something to distract him.

He’d opened the refrigerator looking for cold water, but saw the red and white striped bucket first. He pulled it out, eyes trained on the golden edges he could see through the lid. He sat heavily at the kitchen table, thoughts of water abandoned. He lifted the lid, pulled out the half-eaten drumstick, and bit into it.

It wasn’t that the chicken filled him up in some way. He wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t particularly empty feeling.

It wasn’t that it made him feel happy, because it seemed almost nothing really brought true happiness since he’d left Peggy behind as he jumped on the Valkyrie.

It wasn’t even that the chicken was particularly good, because it was over spiced and cold and still too fatty under the skin in some places.

But the peppery fire in his mouth distracted him. It made him focus, brought him to the 21st century where you could buy a bucket of fried chicken for more than some people made in a week back in his old time, and that was chump change here.

It made him remember he was here, now, and that it wasn’t a dream. He’d left everything and everyone behind. Bite after bite, he tried to forget of each and every person he left. Tried to forget her soft brown eyes and bright red smile.

It made him face the fact that everyone thought he’d died, that to them he really had, and if he hadn’t been found, he might have languished for decades to come.

He bit into a thigh, thick with soggy breading, and wondered if this was what hell felt like.

He ate until the bucket was empty and he was scrounging the bottom for the crispy leavings of the batter, hoping for one more spicy moment of…

Penance?

Regret?

Punishment?

He wasn’t sure what this was; if he was forcing himself to eat or eating to ignore all the thoughts swirling in his memory.

No better or worse, just fuller, he washed his hands and went back to bed, the sheets now cold and crisp instead of sweaty and confining.

After the chicken he didn’t dream.

The next morning, his stomach felt greasy and heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was the food itself or if he felt like he should be repentant for his midnight binge. The red and white bucket stared at him from where he’d left it on the table, challenging him, making him face the emotions he felt last night.

He crushed the bucket and stuffed it in the garbage.

It was nearly a month of avoiding fried chicken all together before Clint insisted he try buffalo wings. The morsels were hot and spicy, barely a bite but somehow satisfying, especially when washed down with a cold beer and enjoyed with the camaraderie of the other avengers around the table.

When he woke that night, same as every night before, his eyes were still swimming with images of beastly aliens and crumbling New York streets. He flung himself out of bed, same as every night before, and searched for something that would center him. He bypassed the television and the radio, moved past sketchbooks and journals until he was at his refrigerator.

The wings burned like fire without tempering by dipping sauces and he let the spices distract him, drown out the pain, and didn’t chase them down with beer or milk or water because he needed that sting to center him and even his own body saw to it that the sting only lasted so long. He licked the bones and then his fingers clean, not caring that he was a sloppy mess. He put this head down on his folded hands, taking long, deep breaths and counting how long it took for the burn to die away.

He heard her voice in his head. Herd her scold him in her perfect English accent for overindulging. He imagined it turned to a gentle laugh, then a caress on his cheek, then a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth and a sassy remark about him tasting spicy.

He didn’t want to hear her hitching voice in his memory anymore. Didn’t want to think about leaving her behind, crying over the radio.

He didn’t want to wake up with her voice echoing in his head, her sad, broken tone as she realized what he’d planned to do echoing in his mind. He didn’t want to hear the invitation one more time, or to know that he left her without their dance.

He wiped at his eyes, angry that they watered, and told himself that it was just the leftover hot sauce on his fingers that made the tears pour over his cheeks.

~*~

From then on, he sought it out. He didn’t fight it. He tried every restaurant and fast-food joint he could, keeping his refrigerator stocked with spicy, greasy chicken. Popcorn chicken was better than nuggets, and tenders were better than both of those, but the real, true, on-the-bone chicken was the best.

It made dealing with the nightmares easier, focusing only on the way he bit through the cold wings and thighs and not the images that he couldn’t erase from his mind, the pounding of his heart that he couldn’t stop. Focusing on finding all of the meat, on getting each bit of battered skin before discarding clean bones gave him a task to keep his mind from wandering back to haunting memories.

It didn’t stop him from waking up screaming in the middle of the night, it didn’t make the sleep when he went back to bed any more restful, but it made him feel like he was taking charge of it somehow, made him feel better about pulling open the refrigerator and sitting at the table in the darkened kitchen. If he prepared for it somehow, it became part of his routine. If he was ready for it, maybe, one day, it would leave him.

Steve Rogers kept his refrigerator stocked with cold, leftover, fast food chicken. It never lasted long, sometimes disappearing the very day he bought it. Each time he set another cardboard take out box in there, each time he slid another restaurant bag in the drawer, he hoped that in a week or so he’d be forced to throw it away because it was old and he hadn’t needed it.

That day hadn’t come yet.

He still hoped.  

[anika-ann]

No Apologies Needed - Pt.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader       Word count: 2380

Warnings: swearing, forced PDA, alcohol

Summary: Your friend left you alone in the bar only to make out with a cute guy she just met. So the plan is to go home. Except things rarely go as planned, do they?

Then again, this change of plans in the form of a handsome stranger seems rather pleasant. Until it doesn’t.

Story Masterlist

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You couldn’t believe she had convinced you to do it again. 

You couldn’t believe you had taken the bait, again.

A girls’ night out, she had said. Just the two of us having drinks, she had said. No boys allowed, she had said.

The first brunette passing your table caught her attention, but Nicol had tried to be a good friend and keep her promise, ignoring his suggestive wink. You wanted to congratulate her for the restraint.

And then another one had come and you were left alone in the bar, just like always. You were so stupid. Why had you come here? You weren’t exactly number one fan of bars. You just let Nicol tag you along, only to be abandoned. Every. Single. Time.

You finished your drink – the second one ever since your so called friend had left you – and considered taking off. You couldn’t see Nicol anywhere, probably because she was having a wild make-out session with the hot brunette no.2, and you were feeling a bit tipsy yourself – which was never a good state. One more drink and you might make a decision you would regret lately. Also, walking New York’s streets at night was bad enough itself; you didn’t need to add your drunken ass in the mix.

You slipped into your jacket and swung you tiny purse over your shoulder, making your way along the wall to avoid the people who had got encouraged by alcohol enough to start some sort of a dance.

“This isn’t funny at all,” you heard someone behind you complain in what was almost a whine. You rolled your eyes at the male voice and pulled your purse closer as you felt the man’s presence right behind you.

Yeah, getting mugged on top of all that, no, thank you. You quickened your pace, pushing past a girl who seemed to have more than enough; and you were not thinking alcohol. More like… you didn’t even want to know.

Nicol, I really hope your boy-toy is freakin’ worth it. You realized that you should shoot her a text at least – that you were heading to the apartment you two shared, for her to read when she wouldn’t be… busy. With that thought, you headed to your salvation – the exit.

It was when you heard him again, the guy almost sneaking behind you; his voice sounded differently now, more resigned than annoyed. Desperate even.

“Dammit!”

A strong hand gripped your arm and you choked on air as the man spun you around swiftly.

“Hey-“ you snapped at him – him being a hooded guy – your lungs gathering enough air to let out a scream.

“Please, play along.”

Those words shocked you, but you had no time to question them as you were suddenly backed against the wall, the stranger’s mouth on yours.

You gasped at the feeling, unintentionally parting your lips, only to meet his warm breath.

“Please,” he whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek and at the surprisingly tender gesture, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, your rapidly beating heart slowing down just a little.

Somehow, your brain was working one hundred percent – at least certain areas, while others were just too drunk to function. You had got the message – he possibly didn’t like the prospect of kissing you unexpectedly any more than you did and only did it because he was trying to get someone off of his back.

Your pulse wavered in fear and for a second you wanted to push him away – but then the memory of his soft apologizing tone hit you and you just couldn't do it. You suddenly didn't care why he needed to hide – whether it was a crazy clingy ex, a drunken friend or a drug cartel he owned money to. It didn't matter to you, as insane as that made you.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your bloodstream – or the fact that his lips felt very nice against yours, or the broad shoulders you had managed to notice during your super-fast panicked inspection of the stranger who had grabbed you. The lips didn’t seem to be close enough and neither did his body. You sneaked one hand around his waist, gasping when you felt the firmness of his muscles, unable to stop your hand from reaching a bit lower to what you expected to be a booty feeling just as firm. You were not disappointed and boy, if that sensation didn’t warm your belly in the most delicious way.

Your other hand slipped under the hood of his sweatshirt and you could feel him stiffen as he probably thought you were about to expose him. But you simply slid your fingers into his locks, earning a soft sigh from him. It apparently encouraged him to press his body closer to yours.

Now that was a believable make-out session for this kind of place and you would be damned if your evening just didn’t turn way better than you had expected. The man’s lips were still dancing with yours, slowing down, until there was just a ghost of a touch of them on yours, his fingers resting lightly against your cheek, while his other hand was on your hip.

When had he started touching your hip?

You were breathing heavily, attacked by his unobtrusive cologne that somehow felt vintage. You crossed out a low-life persona from your mental list of people who might have just kissed you, because someone who smelled this nice couldn’t be hanging out on the streets most of his days. Also, you couldn’t smell large amount of alcohol on him, which only supported your theory.

And wow, your brain was so busying itself with stuff that weren’t important.

You licked your lips, gulping. Well. Now should come the awkward part. You couldn’t make yourself open your eyes.

“So… are we good, Stranger?” you asked hoarsely, your throat too tight to allow you to speak clearly. You fought the urge to swallow again.

“Depends,” his equally rough voice caressed you and your fingertips tingled. Jeeez, girl, get a grip, god knows who this guy is- “Is there a white male, 5 feet 9 tall, dark hair, athletic built, wearing black t-shirt and jeans or a white male 6 feet 3 tall, blond, muscular, in dark blue t-shirt and jeans in sight?”  

Your heart jumped to your throat and your eyes snapped open at the first words he said. White male about 5 feet 9 tall, athletic built-? What kind of a person described people like that? What the hell did you get yourself into?

…not that you had been in it voluntarily. At least from the beginning, later on it was— shut up.

You raised your gaze from his neck – because he was just that tall – and let your eyes roam around the room, searching for the men he had just described. You had no clue, it was rather the way he had said those words than their actual meaning that got stuck in your brain, but you didn’t think you saw anyone who looked like that… and seemed especially intimidating on top of that, because you guessed that if a walking rock like this hooded stranger himself felt the need to hide…

“No, I don't think I see anyone who would match that description,” you whispered dutifully, fighting the urge to add ‘Sir’. He was just giving a vibe of a man you should be addressing ‘Sir’.

With your mouth dry, you looked up to the man’s face still partially hidden in the shadows of his hood.

Beautiful eyes met yours with unbearable intensity. You stomach clenched, but not uncomfortably. Oh boy, he was a looker; bright blue eyes, blond hair, ripped body… you realized you were still touching him – quite inappropriately – and let go of his shoulder and… bottom, yeah. Though it was as hard as if there were magnets between you, the sensation just way too pleasant under your fingertips only a moment ago.

He must have come to a certain conclusions hearing your strangled voice, because his gaze softened, allowing you to breathe in properly.

“I'm sorry for... throwing myself at you like this, Ma’am.” Here it comes. Ma’am. I really should have called him ‘Sir’. “I really am, I would never-“

You felt the tension building in your shoulders ease with the way he sounded; slightly embarrassed and... well, utterly adorable. This guy was a good guy, you decided. There was no way he was not on the side of the angels, not with the sincere apologetic eyes and the tone he spoke in.

Crazily enough – and you blamed the alcohol, really – it made you smile rather confidently.

“Hate to break it to you, but you did literally nothing that would require an apology.”

Even with the poor light and the hood, you would swear his cheeks flushed with a little red. It was so cute you would cry. Putting a respectful distance between the two of you – and you did not feel sorry for the loss of contact, not at all, that would be weird –, he cleared his throat.

“I’m— at least... may I buy you a drink as an apology, Ma’am?”

The Ma’am thing again. Had he been raised in a freaking castle? Military, you dumbass, maybe he is military-

“Uhm... o-okay,” you stuttered, completely forgetting you had decided to stop drinking for the night. It would be impolite to decline, right? Plus, after what just happened – or was still happening? – you could use a drink.

He gave you a bashful yet brilliant smile and your heart melted, your legs turning into an uncooperative mass of jello. Seeing your hesitation, he offered you a hand. It was an utterly sweet and chaste gesture – especially given how the two of you had been touching just few moments ago.

You found yourself staring at him as he led you to the bar. He seemed to grow now, holding himself like… well, like a military man, perhaps. The grey hoodie looked size too big around his middle, but was struggling in the higher area – his shoulders and arms were wrapped tightly and you could almost hear the fabric cry. His jeans were… wrapping his bottom pretty nicely, making your cheeks flush with the memory of touching it without any warning or permission. You quickly raised your eyes, afraid he might catch you staring if he turned to you unexpectedly.

Even when seating himself on a bar stool and catching the bartender’s attention, he left the hood on. He only let go of your hand when you were both sitting and the man behind the bar approached you. You ordered another margarita while he had a scotch. He paid for you both of course.

His body was slightly directed to you, remaining somewhat polite, but his eyes were rather on his drink, not meeting yours; until they did.

You almost fell of the stool as you were surprised by gaze staring right into your soul.

“I truly am sorry for assaulting you, Ma’am. But I would like you to know I’m very grateful for your cooperation,” he exclaimed, voice less measured than you would expect with the way he carried himself.

You felt burst of blood in your cheeks when he called the make-out session and your wandering hands a cooperation.

“It was no trouble… Sir.”

You could see the corners of his lips rise as he offered you his hand again, this time obviously to shake yours.

“My name is Steve.”

You accepted his hand, nodding, and sheepishly whispered your name back. You wanted to ask whom the hell he was running from, why he had picked you of all people around, who he was, but you couldn’t make yourself to do it. Possibly because you were well-aware of the fact he wouldn’t answer any of those questions.

Instead, you raised your glass, gesturing towards his. You had no idea what you should make a toast to, so you didn’t say anything, just attempted a tiny smile. Steve reciprocated it and sipped his scotch, only to put down the glass down a second later.

He sighed then, sounding a bit irritated. You studied him carefully, wondering what you had done to cause the change in his mood. He made a subtle motion towards his neck and you noticed his fingertips brushing his ear.

Your heart skipped a beat before it broke into a gallop. Jesus, was he... was he wearing an earpiece? Comms? Was he actually… some kind of a spy?! What the-

“I'm sorry. I have to go.”

“Oh,” you only let out intelligently as he downed the glass in one go. Christ. He stood up hastily.

“Thank you-- thank you again for your help, Ma’am. It was nice to meet you,” he said with a nervous smile and headed towards the exit abruptly.

He couldn’t see the quick smile you gave him as you followed him with your stare.

“Was my pleasure…”

He was almost by the door when a redhead woman, also in a hood, only worn lower, wrapped her arm around his shoulder with a grin. Now you were taken aback utterly, possibly even more than earlier that evening. What the hell?! Was this his girlfriend? Or-?

Even from the distance, you could see Steve’s lips mimicking a very clear 'shut up' at her and then the woman turned directly to you, met your eyes and gave you a playful wink.

You blushed harder and not just from alcohol. The strangest thing was that… the wink didn't scare you or made you feel guilty or something. The gesture wasn't saying 'that's my man, bitch', but more like a 'good job, sister, I hope you enjoyed'.

And then they were gone.

You hypnotized at the door long after they had left, your imagination running wild. For some reason, the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith came to your mind and you had to roll your eyes at the ridiculous picture of Steve and the woman being a married spy couple.

You returned to your drink and shook your head in silent wonder. The alcohol was starting to taste a bit funny on your tongue; just another indication it was time to finish your last drink and go home.

That was the plan anyway.

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Part 2

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​ 

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Thank you for reading! Tags always opened, just like my inbox and whatever ;)