#chapter 1 the yawning grave

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

How I DIDN’T Become a Villain…

ch.1 piece

•

“Wow,” Danny commented with his mouth full. “You managed to get a shit ton of stuff done. Good thing no one walked in for hours.”

“Dude, first off, nice manners,” Ray said sarcastically, the left corner of his lip lifting with the tone. “Second, shut the fuck up. I keep telling you, you’re gonna jinx us.”

Danny snorted, swallowing the food in his mouth.

“C’mon, nothing’s gonna—"

Ding-ding-ding.

Danny froze like a deer in headlights. Ray, on the other hand, threw his hands up with an exasperated sound before bringing them down loudly against his thighs. He turned his head to direct a glare that screamed I told you so, pointing aggressively at the out-of-sight entrance.

Danny raised his hands in surrender, eyebrows high. He was about to defend himself when a shudder ran down his spine. His body tensed instinctively, chest tightening in anticipation of that familiar cold. It never came. A deep unease settled in his chest instead. He fought down that fight-or-flight adrenaline that was flooding him, trying to push him into unnecessary action. His eyes widened at the feeling. One he hadn’t felt in years.

He clenched his fists that were still in the air and physically shook the feeling off. Ray let his death glare drop to raise his eyebrows at him questioningly.

“Uh, you okay?”

Other than feeling twitchy all over and like someone stomped on my grave?

“Yeah, peachy.” He cringed at the croak in his voice. “Just shivers. The usual.”

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 08. LOSING DOGS

a/n: i can't really explain why i took so long with this chapter. possibly because of how much i don't want this series to end and we're so close. but also it's just been hard to find the inspo as of late. but thanks to a movie day with @soulores where we yearned and screamed and laughed over this man, and well me rewatching the deadpool movies 1 & 2 for wade inspo i managed to finish this. it's been a ride delving into their angst and i hope you enjoy! we're one more chapter away from the ending and from this man's happy ending.

summary: time spent apart gives logan a chance to grieve - to mourn the family he lost. it gives you the opportunity to come to terms with what loving the wolverine means. the consequences that come with the choice of betting on someone like him. after all, he's not a violent dog...he just tends to bite harder than necessary.

word count: 7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, grief, dual pov chapter sorta, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, wade wilson therapist, laura kinney is here to stay everyone, crying, pain, emotional turmoil, ptsd, time.

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You don't sleep anymore.

This wasn't due to a lack of exhaustion—you were always tired—you simply couldn't bear to withstand the dreams longer than necessary. They filled your head with their brutality. Ripped apart your psyche in such a short time frame, only to leave you split open and bleeding for the buzzards and vultures to pick at. You were surprised Wade never commented on how you resembled a walking corpse day after day.

Walking amongst the living as your soul was claimed by the dead.

Nightmares quickly became your waking reality. A piece of what Logan left behind burrowed in your chest, settling further than you could ever reach. But that remained the horrid truth. You didn't want to get rid of it—you couldn't fathom the thought for longer than a few seconds. The remedies given by Wade, Laura, Ness, were all flimsy bandaids that you stripped off when they weren't looking—hoping that the darkness within would eventually consume you whole.

What existed in your mind—in the very depths of your heart—were all you had left of the man who disappeared without a trace.

Staring at the ceiling was easier. Tracing the cracks in the plaster, the worn in marks of people who lived here long before you ever would. You pretended that he lay beside you—his body inches away from reaching for you. In search of a slice of contentment to counteract the yawning grave that threatened to bury him alive. You could play along in this delusion, create a world of your own as your vision blurred.

Maybe if you wished hard enough...it would come true.

Eventually the need for sleep won, dropping shovel after shovel of dirt. Intent on burying you six feet under in a spot that was never meant for you. Memories played on a loop, a reminder of what could never be—a fate that had been mistakenly written in the stars— and you accepted it with a solemn heart that sang a long forgotten song.

One you never should have learned.

A creak echoed in the living room, your door left ajar in case you had to run. But the cadence of her footsteps had grown familiar to your weary ears. The drag of boots across hardwood, a shuffle here and there in her attempt to stay quiet. She hardly left your apartment anymore. Taking a spot on your couch like a guard dog you never asked to keep—a protector who took on the role her father was meant to fill.

Laura often fell asleep on the leather piece of furniture never meant to be utilized as a bed. You peeked your head out once to check if she needed anything, only to find her laying with her body faced closest to the door—a cracked picture frame of a much older version of your Logan placed on the table beside her. Her brows were furrowed, face pinched in fear, and for the first time you understood her relationship to the Wolverine.

She shared much more than his DNA.

She was plagued by his nightmares as well.

Your heart cracked a bit further at the knowledge that she might never have another night of peace in her life. Forever taunted by a past that should have been happy.

Sighing, you turned onto your side, staring at the neon glow of your alarm clock—a polaroid of Logan propped against the lamp. Wade took it months before you got the chance to meet the man who would drastically shift the course of your life. Two days ago you found it on your pillow—a chocolate bar beside it. Wade's attempt at making you smile.

Even if all it managed to do was make you cry.

Broken wet sobs that left your body wracked with shivers, your heart numb to each emotion that might have existed before he walked away. You'd gone over their explanations in your head numerous times. Mulled over each word and soft whisper of why. Yet nothing registered but the emptiness—the hollow ache that spilled over with grief.

No matter how often you patched it back up, he still managed to break his way back in. The reminder of his absence only served to split you down the middle—rendering you incapable of anything but pain.

"I miss him too."

Your body jolted at the soft sound of her voice practically filled to the brim with melancholy. She stood in your doorway, hands limp at her side, and for the first time you saw her as who she really was. A child who lost her father not once, but twice. Wordlessly you dragged the blankets back from his side of the bed, rolling to face her as she clambered onto the mattress still clad in jeans and a t-shirt.

You offered your own pajamas a week ago in the hopes of making her more comfortable. Only for her to reveal she slept in her clothes even at the mansion.

Just in case.

"What was he like? Your father." The topic of the older Logan rarely came up for you, his memory somehow entwined with the man you fell in love with. But Laura knew him best. She'd seen him at his worst, only to watch him become the father he was always meant to be. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to."

She sighed, shifting around as if to shed the layer of vulnerability that scratched at her. "Angry."

You smiled. "Always?"

"No," she breathed. This breached onto territory she wasn't used to, memories she never liked to look back on, but for some unknown reason...it made you smile. So she persisted in spite of the discomfort that gnawed at her stomach. "He took care of Charles for a long time before he found me. Or well before I found him. But he had a lot to be angry about."

"I imagine." And you could.

Humans were their own enemy at times, destroying all that was good in the world. After witnessing what Fortuna went through—where her path lay—you understood how people would rather villainize what they didn't understand. Logan faced it each day, the difference of being someone who slipped by unnoticed yet could never truly reveal himself.

A man that carried the grief of all he lost and persisted despite the pain.

"He would have liked you," Laura mumbled, her eyes growing heavy with sleep's desperate call.

"I don't think–"

"You're like Charles." Her eyes slipped shut, body sagging into the mattress, while you were stunned into silence. "That's why."

She fell silent before the words managed to sink deep into your mind—puncturing a spot of love that existed in spite of all this agony. A place that Logan claimed all to himself. Yet as you lay there, tracing the lines of his daughter's face with your eyes, you felt her memory merge with his. Creating a small corner of your world for her to reside in—a home in your heart.

Tucking the blanket around her shoulder, you met sleep's call with a pleased sigh. It gripped you tight, closing its arms around your steady beating heart. Unbeknownst to you as the clock struck two in the morning, a shard of your broken heart wedged itself back into place. Healing over with a jagged scar sewn together by the girl who longed for permanency in a world that offered her the bitter end of a short stick.

The girl who asked for her father and got a mother instead.

Burnt pancake batter filled your senses, burning the insides of your nostrils as you were roused from sleep to the sharp off key singing of Wade in your kitchen. The spot beside you was empty, the sheets cold, and with a ragged sigh you sat up. Rubbing the sleep from your bleary eyes. What slowly became your favorite part of the mornings—waking up beside a man who did everything he could to keep you between warm sheets—suddenly shifted into a horrid dream.

You were alone. Again.

The familiar prick of tears stung your eyes faster than you would have liked. Although that might have been the pancakes.

In sluggish movements, you dragged a flannel over your t-shirt to combat the frozen chill beginning to settle in the New York air. Fall was right around the corner, leaving you with a list of things to do before the apartment was back in working order. The window still sat unfixed—plastic taped over the gaping hole per Wade's instructions—and the radiator gave out after Fortuna's whip went through it.

"Just call me angel of the morning," Wade crooned, flipping another charred piece of bread onto a stack that began to lean four pancakes ago.

Laura watched it warily, her fingers gripped around a can of shitty soda you picked up for her two days ago. Coffee was offered as an alternative to her sugary habits; she offered to steal in case you were low on funds. You figured it was easier to appease than argue.

"Do you even know how to cook?" she muttered, taking another gulp.

"Such a ray of sunshine. It's like Logan is still here with us." Wade poured another glob of chunky batter onto your now ruined cast iron pan. "Tell me does that come from your genetics or is it a fancy power they gave you?"

She snorted, her claws coming free to stab at the pile and drag a pancake to her plate. "Genetics."

"I figured." He slid the syrup her way, the bowl in his other hand nearly tipping the batter onto the floor. "Use a fork, you alley cat. Housewives do not get paid enough to cook a fantastic meal and serve it too."

"You're not getting paid," Laura mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Exactly." His head glanced towards the stove, eyes narrowed in mock irritation. "We should talk about that huh Feige."

A pancake slipped off the stack, hitting the counter with a heavy thud and you began to wonder if the bread was in fact what he said it was. Ever since you woke up in the mansion, Wade had been your chef morning noon and night. Each meal entirely came with  

Laura squinted at the smoke rapidly rising to the ceiling. "Maybe you should cook them for shorter periods of time."

"Don't question my methods, I'm a pancake champion Oliver." Her face scrunched, disgust flooding across her narrowed gaze. "Oliver and Company? Orange alley cat led and taught by the smooth dog Dodger?" She shook her head. "Greatest take on Oliver Twist to exist?"

"Never heard of it."

He dropped the bowl, jabbing a finger in her face quick enough to startle you where you hid by the doorway. "I hope you're ready to have your life changed Howlett Junior by the voice of Billy Joel taking away all our worries. Right sweet angel?"

Your attempt to meld yourself into the wall proved unsuccessful when Laura turned to smile at you, trepidation rising to the surface in her eyes. They watched you with an air of indecision. After Logan left you became a ticking time bomb—each second passing quicker than either of them expected—and one day when it was least expected...you'd explode.

Every emotion you tried to push down would shove its way to the front, rendering them unavoidable. That's what terrified you the most. It scared them too—you could see it hidden beneath looks of false joy and hopeful glances. They wanted you to heal, to survive this grueling time of solitude.

You simply didn't know if you had it in you to appease their worries.

Peeling away from the doorframe, you moved closer with soft unsure movements. So unlike the person from before who got over the unrelenting fear of being seen, of one day being known. He read you like a book, flipped the pages with enthusiasm and love, and you thought what resided in your own heart was enough to keep him reading. You believed he might put pen to paper and script what lay in the path of your lives spent together.

But he stopped reading weeks ago, shutting the half empty story to save you from the grief that devoured him from the inside out.

He let you remain unfinished. Perhaps that's how you were always meant to be.

"Tell me somewhere in that sexy mind of yours there's a version of Oliver and Company, cause I can't be surrounded by uncultured fiends," Wade rambled, tossing two pancakes onto a clean chipped plate he slid your way.

"I know of it," you replied. The meek echo of your voice sent a wave of shock through your system—so different, so unrecognizable.

You wanted to be known again, to exist in the confines of someone's mind. Wade and Laura offered up theirs on a silver platter—promising not to tarnish the fracture spirit housed in your weary body.

The burnt flavor of bread nearly made you gag, but Wade's smile forced you to swallow with a half hearted grin. "Isn't it a cartoon?"

Wade huffed. "And we’re comic book characters. What else is new?" Chewing happily on his own plate, he drowned his breakfast in a heaping wave of syrup that dripped onto your flour covered counter. "The offer to watch it today is on the table."

You swallowed thickly, nose wrinkled at the bitter flavor that stuck to the back of your throat. "Actually I'm gonna go into work today."

They froze. Unease stirring to life in the small kitchen as they regarded you with the hesitation you'd grown sick of facing. You couldn't be a recluse for the rest of your life, spending days watching movies on your couch with Wade—sharing quiet dinners with Laura at the table that housed a vase full of decaying flowers. Things wouldn't come to a halt because a man exited your life—they couldn't.

Logan left to heal.

It was time you did the same.

"I don't have much sick leave left," you began, the argument ready to leap off the tip of your tongue. "And my shift ends at six, which gives me enough time to pick up some actual dinner."

"Wolverine 2.0 goes with you," Wade replied—the stern lilt of his voice jarring you for a moment.

"Wade–"

"She goes."

There remained no room left to place your well thought out points in, no space for you to budge on his only demand. You supposed this was better than having both of them show up out of the blue. Your boss hardly let you get away with Logan showing up once or twice; two heroes would send them over the edge, eventually leading to your job being terminated.

You sighed, pushing the food around your plate for a second. "I guess she can learn something. Since she's supposed to be in school."

"You know I'm right here," she interjected, shoving the empty dish towards Wade.

"Hush. The adults are talking." He threw a wink your way, eyes glinting with a mischief that dimmed the day Logan left. The sight filled your lungs with air, hope settling at the base of your empty heart. "I'll pack the lunches."

Warmth filled the empty crevices of your body—sparking life into a part of you that had been vacant for weeks. "You don't have to."

"Shush. I've got to take care of my little breadwinner." He pinched your cheek hard enough to send pain flaring down your neck. "Besides I need to live up to my role as wifey or Ness will stop calling me that in bed."

Laura groaned, her eyes shutting to the sight of Wade's brash smile. "Gross."

"Ew," you replied, unable to hide the grin that cracked across your dried lips. "I didn't need to know that."

"Au contraire. If I had to hear you and Logan go at it for hours at a time. Kudos by the way it sounded like he gave phenomenal dick. You get to listen to me yap about my sex life."

Laura sped past you, vanishing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut with her boot. You couldn't blame her reaction. Hearing about her father's life drudged up pain that still existed in the back of her mind. Grief that she'd have to work through. Yet if she was anything like Logan, you'd have to face your own broken trauma in order for her to finally face hers.

"Yap?" you inquired, desperate to move on from the topic of him.

"Yeah. It's what all my fellow Gen Z’ers are saying."

With brows furrowed, you bit back the swell of laughter that bubbled up your throat. "Wade you're older than me by–"

His hand clapped over your mouth, muffling the remainder of your sentence. "Shhhh." A quick glance was thrown to the side. "Last I checked this is the Logan show. Not the Wade show. Well...not yet anyways."

"Hey Wade," you mumbled beneath a scarred palm that gripped your cheeks together. "Thank you."

For the first time all week...Wade gave you a smile that finally reached his eyes. Irises plagued with the same flicker of sadness that weighed heavy in your heart. The feeling of loss within a found family—of things changing faster than you could process. In an instant you were back to square one, struggling to keep your head above water.

Only this time you weren't swimming these dark waters alone. This time Wade and Laura clung to you, dragging what remained to a shore of a different color. A life yet to be explored.

"Anytime angel," he whispered with a kiss to your temple—drawing you close enough to feel his heart beneath the thin t-shirt. An organ that beat for one more person, that carved out space for his small inkling of hope.

For the family made up of two mutants, a blind woman, a sugar bear, the love of his life, and you.

The clatter of keychains echoed past the empty rows of shelves, bouncing off high ceilings decorated with yellowed lights. You caught sight of a small X-Men insignia stitched onto the side of the faded gray backpack. The stitches were frayed, the initials of L. K. H. placed right above it in sloppy angled sharpie, but the sight explained enough. Her entire life was stored within these aged pockets, in a pack held closed by a broken zipper and some faith.

"I like the Deadpool one." You watched her gloved hands toy with it for a moment, eyes glancing down the rows of darkened shelves every few moments.

Even here in the midst of silence and history, she remained on guard.

You wanted to promise a sliver of peace beyond all that she went through—a place where nothing happened except the shuffle of books and moving of boxes. Only to realize that you'd never be able to tell her something so untrue.

She'd never be entirely safe again. That made you want to rip at the world until your hands went bloody and raw. Until there remained a guarantee that she'd be able to sleep at night, that when her father came home things would be different.

"Peter made it." She picked at the black polish on her nails—the bottle swiped off your vanity a week ago in the hopes you wouldn't go looking for it. "Said a member of X-Force should have the marker."

"Didn't...they all die?"

"Yeah. So it's more of a warning I guess?" She grinned, wide and bright and so carefree it tugged sharply at your heart.

You placed another stack on the cart, fiddling with the order. If you kept yourself busy you could stop thinking about him. You could shove each memory and shared moment of bliss to the back of your mind. This was your chance to find a small semblance of normalcy after so much damage, a change in the rapidly shifting path of your life. You used to enjoy shelving pieces of history—find contentment in the familiar pattern of routine.

Now his eyes haunted your mind. His touch was a ghost along the back of your neck. His smile was reflected to you in the face of his daughter—the crinkles around her eyes an exact copy of his.

You were doomed to repeat history, destined to break as Fortuna did with a shattered heart and the hope that one day he might come home and find you. He'd open the apartment door set in place by his calloused hands and find you right where he left you—waiting as time stopped and dust gathered and your heart called for a man lost in time.

"I've got to shelve these," you said, voice thick with unshed tears you swallowed down. "But feel free to pick a book okay?"

She nodded, dragging a small journal out of her pack—a chewed up pen with it. "Wade gave me your lunch."

"I'll come find you in an hour?"

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were said more for your benefit than hers—a way to appease the constant flicker of unease in your mind. Perhaps this is what she lived with her whole life. The pain of yearning for someone to come back to her, to stay.

You'd be that person.

You would stay.

Smiling one last time, you pushed the cart into a row sparse with books—the light clicking on above your head as your footsteps echoed off the wooden floor. Your boss texted you quick instructions before she took the upstairs shift, the piles left behind for you to sort through. It seemed that classes were back in session, each book taken out regarding some form of historical information on New York.

Your eyes caught the titles while you worked. Sliding books into their proper spot and discarding the paper slotted in as a placeholder. It became a mindless task. A job of familiarity that your muscles immediately recognized—your arms moving of their own volition. Giving free reign to your mind that turned over information at a rapid rate.

What happens now? What would life turn into?

Now that you were back in a place that held so much of your soul you found that fitting back into the mold felt wrong. You were a human who got caught up in the affairs of mutants. It had happened before to others like you, it would certainly happen again. Yet you weren't sure you could handle the pain of being tossed into the ring with no means of protection again.

Your heart barely survived the first time.

To do it again would mean signing your name along death's dotted line. Only this time the pact would be sealed with your own blood.

A tilted stack of books slid onto their sides, grabbing hold of your attention quicker than expected. You slammed a hand against them with the hopes of saving yourself from extra work. Only for the one in your other hand to slip, hitting the cart with a thud and shoving it a foot away. Your mind went into overdrive—the noise of metal clanging against the tall shelves reverting into the all too familiar crack of a whip.

You gasped, leaping back as if the pile burned right down to your bone—the books toppling to the ground in rapid succession. A domino effect that would leave you crouching for a good twenty minutes to put everything back in its rightful spot.

"No," you exclaimed, your voice unwavering amidst the anxiety that filled your stomach.

Something ripped at the base of your spine, crackling through your body like a livewire. It pulled at every nerve, every tendon and muscle, until you were positive this was more than an overwhelming amount of stress. Your vision went black, a glare of light flashing behind closed eyelids, as the world went still and time rolled to a deathly halt.

Blue washed off your stiff form in rolling waves, curling around your stretched arms and down to the fingers that nearly curled around a book held in midair. A rush of cold air flooded your lungs, expanding them in your chest with a strength you'd never experienced before. As if the missing piece within your DNA finally settled into place—a spot always meant to hold something else.

A power that flared to life with a burning wave of heat.

It welcomed you like a long lost friend. Burrowed into the broken parts of your chest with a promise to put you back together. Time trickled by as your heart started up again—beating slowly against your ribs. Surging past each part of you that intertwined with this newfound link.

You sucked in another breath, eyes fluttering open with a flash of cerulean to see Laura struggling along the bookcase. Her face screwed up in pain, claws buried in the wooden shelves to drag herself forward. She moved an inch at a time, her cry unable to fill the vacant air as she struggled to rip you from the power that fractured your mind.

Such an inconceivable topic: time. Centuries prickled across your skin, millenniums made a home along each bone that grinded to a stop, decades offered you a life that might have ended at the age of eighty.

Infinity. Immortality. An end that rivaled Death.

Oh...what bliss.

"Yes," you relented. An answer to the question that would never be said aloud.

Another pulse of energy flowed off your shoulders, spilling across empty shelves—rattling the boxes that began to topple to the floor. If you weren't careful you'd bring destruction to a building that became your second home. But the consciousness you relied on was suddenly nowhere to be found.

"Stop!" Laura's voice struck you across the face, punching into your chest with enough blistering pain to wake up your mind to what was happening within you.

Slamming your hands against the shelves that stood on either side of you, the light of blue sputtered out, dying quick enough for you to get a hold of your body. Time fell back into place, the books you nearly dropped crashed to the floor with a loud clatter of thuds, and you collapsed. Your knees hit the floor harshly, pain coursing up your legs. Yet you could barely keep your eyes open.

"Laura," you wheezed, body sagging against the shelf.

She collapsed beside you, gathering your hands into a vice-like hold. "What happened? What the fuck was that?"

"Fortuna..."

"Is she alive? Is she here?" Her head raised, eyes scanning the vacant area for signs of your variant self.

"She–" Your vision swirled with spots of black, your head fuzzy with the prick of power that wanted to consume you. "I–"

"We gotta get you home," she muttered, shifting her strength to lift you to your feet—body braced heavily on her as she walked. "I'm calling a cab. Stay with me okay? Just stay awake."

The distant ring of her phone echoed in the background as she dragged you with her, a familiar muffled voice coming through the small speaker. Wade. You wanted to speak to him. Ask him what just happened. But only one person would hold the answers—only one person would make you feel alive again. You sucked in a shaky breath, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. The image of him—his smile, his love—filling your broken mind.

"I'm taking her home," Laura muttered into the line.

Her voice became a buzz in your ears. Sharp and unrelenting and inescapable. Your vision went dark, mind succumbing to the painful twisting of your gut—the need to be anywhere else overtaking every other thought. Laura called your name, shook your shoulders, but the world faded away before you could reach out and grasp it; your body sinking beneath the depths, drowning in the soothing waves of time.

“How did you sleep?”

“No nightmares.”

“Are you lying to me Howlett?”

“I’m not lying,” he confessed. “I didn’t really dream of anythin’ this time around.”

Your own laughter pricked at your ears. “Don’t tell me. It was because of me.”

“I think it might be bub.” His touch ghosted across your skin—breath a wash of hot air against your skin. “Guess you’re my cure. Been lookin’ for awhile.”

"Logan," you murmured, eyes fluttering open.

His smile lit up the darkness in your chest—eyes crinkled and lips parted in a sigh of love. "Yeah bub?"

"Y-You're here..."

A hand curled around the back of your neck, drawing you in close enough to make the steady beat of your heart flutter. "Where else would I be honey? I woke up with ya."

"But you've been gone." Your brows furrowed, the haze in your thoughts blocking anything other than him. "I was with Laura–"

He stilled. "Laura?"

"She was helping me," you mumbled, attempting to force your eyes to stay open. "At the library."

"You're just dreamin'," he chuckled.

"But I'm not–"

Lips that haunted you in your sleep brushed across the bridge of your nose—his fingers scratching at the base of your scalp with a hum. "You haven't met her yet honey. How could you be with her at the library?"

You wrenched your eyes open, clutching at the covers that lay over your bodies in an iron grip. "Fortuna–"

Logan's body went still, his head rearing back to stare at you in abject horror. "How do you know her name?" he rasped. "I never told you..."

"What are you talking about?" The buzzing filled each sense, each part of your already numb body. "Wait. No. I need more time," you begged, tears rushing to the surface.

His face blurred, your name a distant call on the tip of his tongue as the waves crashed over your body. Dragging you back to a shore meant for you. Darkness swallowed you whole in an instant. Until you could barely catch your breath—the speed of time rushing to a quick stop. Within the hold of darkness, the drifting peace of nothingness, you heard it.

The vibrant sapphire call of a woman you believed to be the enemy.

“Do better than me."

"Love him the way I couldn't.

You gasped, thrashing against the vice hold that wrenched you apart. The voice whispered soothingly in your ear, a warm compression against a heart that longed for more than this unfathomable excruciating ache.

She drew you to your feet, hands clasped around your wrists, and helped you stagger to the ocean's edge. She faced you with a mirrored smile that faded weeks ago—her eyes bright and flickering with peace.

"Do what I couldn't." Thumbs pressed into the base of your wrist. "Protect them. All of them."

A thick sob ripped from your chest—eyes blurry with tears that refused to stop. "How? I-I shouldn't be this."

"It was always meant to be you. Not me."

"W-What?"

"When Death asks for your hand. Take it. She will lead you home." The scathing brightness of sunlight burned your closed eyelids, pushing you towards something familiar. A place you knew would protect you. "Until then. Show them that time was never the enemy. We're simply their companion."

"Fortuna!" you cried, the form of her slowly dissipating back into the realm of darkness not yet meant for you. "I can't do this! I'm not supposed to be this!"

"Tell him I'm sorry."

Hands grasped at your shoulders. The cold press of metal against the bare skin of your arms jolted you awake—lungs expanding with air that felt like home. The floral scent of your laundry soap filled your nose, the warmth of your bed dragged along your body, and the brush of hair on your neck drew you back to the present. Your eyes fluttered open, chest heaving for any amount of air you could draw in.

"Laura?"

She sighed, dropping the hold she had on your shoulders. "You did it again."

"Did it again?"

"Looks like someone got jealous of all these special powers around her," Wade teased from the doorway of your room—a glass of water in his hand.

"What?" you croaked, suddenly aware of how raw your throat was.

He huffed, settling on the side of your bed. "You've got a bad case of the McFlys. Traveling to and fro in the timeline. Don't think the big guy upstairs will like that very much."

"God?"

"Victor."

You choked. "Who?"

"Or maybe it's Loki," he huffed. "I get that show's timeline confused. Anyways up you go. Drink this. Nurse Wade's orders."

With reluctance you downed the glass of water, Laura's watchful gaze burning into your from the chair. They moved with hesitation brimming to the surface of their eyes—a glaze of uncertainty prominent in each shift of their bodies. They were scared. Whether it was due to what you were turning into or what you could become. You couldn't be certain at this time, but the fear still lingered in the air.

Thick and bitter and so unlike the two mutants who'd become your family in the past few weeks.

"What's happening to me?" you whispered, Wade's hand reaching for yours with a placating grin.

"I've got one guess and it's dredging up memories of that fucker Francis, but dormant mutant gene." The panic in your eyes had him reaching for your other hand. "Hey look at me angel okay? I know how to handle this."

You shook your head, that unsettling twist in your gut rising to the surface. "I'm not...No. That's not possible. I would have..." You hiccuped, oxygen becoming harder to reach for as his words began to settle along your skin. "I would have known," you whispered.

"I didn't." He drew you close enough for his nose to brush your forehead. "That little surprise landed in my lap like a bad case of chlamydia. It's rare, but it happens."

"Why me?" you uttered, unable to process anything other than Laura's sharp gaze."

He sighed. "We don't get to pick and choose. Something must have triggered it."

Fortuna's hold on your jaw, the rocks scattered along the dirt digging into your back. It all came back to you. Her final words bleeding with an act of sacrifice—a promise to gift you with the curse she was unable to handle. Do better than her. Protect them better than her. Wield the ebbing and flowing of time better than her.

She awoke a part of you that had yet to come to life. A dormant section of your DNA that might have forever gone unnoticed if her powers hadn't unlocked it. She gave you everything, dropped the burden on your shoulders, because she knew something you didn't at the time.

You had people—a family, a lover—to keep you stable.

You had the one thing she couldn't save.

"It was always meant to be you. Not me."

Laura sat up, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "It's time."

Wade glanced over his shoulder. "We don't know where he is Oliver."

She sneered, digging out the small phone from her vest pocket. "I do. I gave him the keys."

"Call who?" you rasped, barely able to process that you were back home somehow.

Until her eyes met yours and drew you back to the surface with a name that burned right through your heart. "Logan."

The sharp thwack of an axe against wood filled the still air. Mist clung to the area, settling over his shoulders with a wet layer of frigid condensation. He felt it weigh in his hair, sink into his flannel, and send a wave of cold familiarity through his body. A place he never thought could exist in a different universe somehow stood the test of time. The Logan that came before was somehow more like his variant self than expected.

He sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead—the split open skin of his palms healing over before he could get a glimpse of them. The axe remained lodged into a mangled tree stump. Slivers and pieces of all that he chopped scattered in the clearing. He'd have to pick them up eventually, but he chose to stick with the same motion.

A piece of muscle memory he'd grown used to.

The sun began its descent beneath the thicket of trees, nightfall coming once more to a home occupied by a single person. Merely him and the stack of unread books left behind by a man who shared his taste. He yanked the flannel off his body, tossing it to the chair on his small porch, setting another log into place with a breath.

"Fuck," he muttered, cracking his neck slightly.

A mug of cold coffee sat discarded on the small table he constructed two weeks ago. A means to an end. A way to keep his racing mind busy from the pain that echoed like a bad dream in his head. He'd forgone the whiskey bottles stored in the liquor cabinet, opting for the bitter tang of the wine you preferred with your dinner.

The image of your smile kept him awake most nights. The sound of your laughter playing on a loop like a scratched record he clung to. This was his salvation. Your memory, your joy. It kept him going on days where the horrors threatened to drag him beneath the surface of the Earth.

He dug his grave long before he met you. Whether or not he crawled into it relied on one simple fact.

Though he dragged you through hell—became the cause of so much suffering within your life—you still loved him. You were waiting for him to come home.

"Desperado," he hummed, yanking the axe out of the splintered wood. "Why don't you come to your senses."

Discarding the tool to the side, he gathered what wood might be needed for a small fire. It wouldn't have any effect on whether he stayed warm or not, but it would put him at ease after such a grueling task. Tomorrow he'd go back to work at the yard—his measly paycheck enough to keep him fed with meals cooked in solitude.

He tossed them beside his fireplace, wiping the dirt and mud from his hands with the damp flannel. Life shifted the second Laura handed him the keys to this house on the edge of nowhere. Back to a routine he once knew so well. To a life that once offered him the facade of peace. He might have deluded himself into thinking it would happen again—that he'd get the chance to breathe again.

But your memory clung to his soul. You refused to release him from the spell of your love.

Fortuna's memory remained at the back of his mind like a long lost friend—someone who once offered him a future filled to the brim with hope. And then there was you. His honey. His lover till death. You were the reason he kept himself breathing, the reason his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

You were his savior, guiding him through the grief with a warm smile and a kiss of life.

The shrill ring of his phone broke the haze of memories he found himself in. Dropping into the chair beside his bed, he unlaced his boots—yanking the device out of the drawer on his dresser. He rarely needed it anymore. The contact he had with the rest of the world now whittled down to the people he worked with and the cashier at the small market.

With a sigh, he flipped it open in the hopes it was Wade calling to finally bug him about returning. It wouldn't be unusual. Weeks went by sluggishly, dripping like honey from the jar as he attempted to fix the broken parts of his heart.

Leaving without saying goodbye is what hurt the most. His silent kiss pressed to your cold forehead, his lingering gaze that did what he could to burn your features into his mind. He wanted you with him. Here in this small home. He wanted to hear your laughter fill up the empty spaces, the warmth of your love shining in the air with a palpable physicality that stole his breath away.

Logan ached for you.

But you didn't deserve a man riddled with demons. Certainly not the version of himself that left you behind.

Laura's name flashing across the screen set that familiar unease back in his stomach. The terror that something happened again—something brought you pain when he wasn't there to protect you—filled the crevices of his heart. And with a shaky breath, he answered.

"Laura."

She interrupted him before empty pleasantries could rise to the surface. "You need to come home."

He swallowed thickly. "What happened?"

"I can't explain over the phone, but it's bad. She's not gonna cope without you here."

"What the fuck do you mean cope?" he bit out, his eyes flashing to the small framed image of you that sat proudly on his nightstand. "Is she hurt?"

"No."

He sucked in a breath, relief washing over his shoulders. "Is she okay?"

Laura hesitated. "She's...broken." The word struck him with a visceral anger—an emotion that nearly caught him off guard. "She needs you here Dad. Wade and I can only do so much and if I knew she was dormant I could have helped sooner."

Dormant.

He stiffened, fingers tightening around the phone hard enough for it to crack. "What do you mean by dormant?"

Laura sucked in a breath. "She's..." A beat of silence filled his chest with a fear he never knew could exist in this universe. "She's like us, Dad. She's like her."

Like her.

The world shifted on its axis as he sat there listening to Laura's shaky attempts to explain what occurred. How you needed him this time around. His heart rammed an unsteady beat in the confines of his chest. An echo that rang with a crippling hollow promise of loneliness. Only this time it didn't scream for him—it raged for the person he loved.

The person he left behind.

"Send her here," he said. And before his mind could comprehend the words spilling past his lips, he made a vow he failed to keep—a promise he'd fulfill until his final breath. "I'll keep her safe."

note: this is incredibly late than what i originally planned, but life has been chaotic. and to everyone in the us who are struggling, i hope you take care of yourself this week. we got this and i love you.

[heedthetenofwands]

piratecaptain!johnprice x mermaid!femreader

in search for treasure, the 141 crew and the Shadow fleet finally land at their X on the map. But, where they expected gold, they find merfolk. And where Captain John Price expected just another mission, he found you.

tags: slowburn, angst with a happy ending, fluff, mutual pining (to yearn is to earn), pirate au

Chapter 1

The sun winked at the pirate boat as she peeked over the horizon and through the clouds. Price smiled at her arrival through squinted eyes; their routine was familiar, but the sight always left him awestruck. The warm tones that flooded the deck meant he knew the men who slept beneath would wake soon.

He put out the candle to his side as he assessed the map once more. This thing they were after – what lay under that X – would be the most valuable treasure they would find yet, or so says Shepherd. The bounty would mean more supplies for the crew and a helping of meat at the market. Gods knew the last time they had protein that wasn’t fish.

“Mornin’ Cap’n.” He heard his quartermaster grumble as he joined him. Price glanced over to see Ghost, a dark headband over his hair and temple, with black fabric covering the lower half in his face. The fabric was marked with a faded image of the lower half of a skull. He turned to Price, kohl smeared eyes narrowing in on the map, “We're almost there aren't we?”

Price nodded then furrowed his brows in thought, “It’s doing my head in that we’re still in the dark.”

Ghost hummed a sound of agreement. "You sent that letter to Shepherd. He should reply soon.”

A loud yawn suddenly draws their attention to someone walking up the stairs from the lower deck to join them.

“Morning.” Gaz greeted them while rubbing his eyes. The early morning wasn’t the boatswain's scene – ‘pretty boy needs his beauty sleep’ Soap would tease before an eyeroll from said pretty boy. He came to stand on the opposite side of the table to Price and looks down at the map too.

A beat passes before, “Where’s Soap?” Price asks. The Scot could get skittish when there had been little action at sea - it had been three months since any sign of another ship.

Gaz sighed. “Harassing the chefs, captain.”

Price laughed, “He realises that they have no control over bread for breakfast?”

Gaz chuckles, “Nope. Has a whole conspiracy that they’re keeping the meat to themselves.”

Price smiles slightly at that, before he registered the shouts of the lower crew. Cries of ‘land ahoy’ sounded and speculative whispers soon spread round the deck as he and the rest of his team stepped out of the upper cabin to find the island they had been looking for. Price instinctively reached for his telescope to scan the area further. Bringing the looking glass to eye-level, he could see tall forests that no doubt hid bountiful flora and fauna deep in the jungle of the island, but the mainland was not where they would seek. Instead, he moved to focus on the caves to the far left before he yelled for the men to prepare the anchors and boats.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The battering heat of the sun was blocked by the looming cave walls as the pirates and their rowboats were swallowed by the midnight tones of the cave’s depth. The men helped each other light their torches as the boats followed down further into the cave. Price was confident that this was what they had been looking for; it was a perfect cove to hide a treasure.

They followed the narrow confines of the cave’s walls until the stream ended and they arrived in the cave’s centre. Price decided that he and his team would scope the area that was located further into the cave before he would let Graves and his Shadows perform a wider search. He relayed this much to the pirate who responded with a nod leaving him to let Soap and Gaz row to get ahead of the boats and closer to the shrouded land.

It was only when Price stepped off the boat and help up his torch to scope the ground did his eyes widen as he took in the image. As far as he could see, were merfolk asleep along the shoreline, covering practically every inch of where the waves could lap at their forms as they slept on the sand.

Bloody hell.

He and his men had been led to a merfolks’ rest.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The history of the merfolk and humans was rife with bitter blood and violent encounters. Price vaguely remembered the fragile truce that had recently transpired between the two, and he wasn’t going to be the one to crush it all for the sake of whatever treasure they were sent to find. He stepped backwards to return to the boat, keeping his eye on the merfolk in case they awoke. The men must have seen them too – their hushed murmurs fell to a choked silence - but Price couldn’t help a startled grunt at his body being pulled from under him. A strong and swift form had grabbed his legs and was dragging him into the deeper depths of the waters: down, down, down.

You were not letting this man or his men near your people.

You had been awakened by the light of his torch, a small but immediate starkness to the cave’s shadows allowing your eyes to narrow in on how the glow of the flames danced across the man’s face. He had prominent dark brown facial hair, and a dark coat covered his large form; you could see his eyes widen at the sight of what he had discovered. You knew what you had to do if you wanted to avoid a massacre; it must be done, you tell yourself once more as you watch him struggle for breath in your grasp.

However, this wasn’t Price’s first mermaid encounter. Bringing his knees to his chest as quick as he can, he brings your form close enough to grab your head and slam it to his knee. The force of it is dizzying and the few seconds of disorientation it costs you steals your victory. 

By the time you open your eyes, you were being pulled from the water by a pair of large and rough hands, and a shocked gasp escapes you as the human lifts you so your back was held tight to his chest and his knife hovers above your neck. You keep your eye on the edge of the blade and attempt to calm your breathing. Your neck would be cut if it came any closer to your erratic breaths. Then, you lift your gaze to meet the horrified stares of your kind. You had failed so miserably. The knife at your throat was only a hint of the torture that would await everyone.

As you felt your mind resettling, you took note of how this human was holding your body up. He was strong, you could give him that. He shifts his hold on you to the side of his body so he could see the merfolk.

“We don’t want any trouble.” He spoke out. “We didn’t know you were resting here.” You clench your jaw at that, holding your tongue from saying something rash. It was obvious the others weren’t convinced of his words either as they started moving – he was in their territory right now - but he only narrowed his eyes, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He brings the knife too close - far too close - and as the panic rushes through your head you rear your face back, your arms push try to wrench his grasp on your but his grip remained strong. Your quickened and uncontrolled breathing lets his knife nick repeatedly at the surface of your neck. The growing trail of blood stops the merfolk where they are. They retreat from the human, and he mirrors their actions, pulling the blade away once more from you. The caves echo your last panicked gasps and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“Get on with it, human.” You seethe. You can feel his eyes narrow on the back of your head. You stare forward.

“Alright, here’s the deal.” His voice rumbles. “Like I said, we’re not here to cause trouble, you lot let us out of ‘ere, and I’ll release her at the entrance to return to you.” Your mouth dries up and your tail curls at his command. Liar.

The merfolk murmur at his words, many throwing you concerned and worried glances. Quickly, the talking stops and everyone is looking at you, waiting to see what you had to say. Closing your eyes, you know you had accepted your fate when you had been caught. You knew how men gutted creatures they hooked from the sea and still, you opened your eyes, looked at everyone for the final time and smiled as you nodded. You vaguely feel the human’s eyes watching you, before stepping backwards into the water. You keep your eyes on the surface of the water as he passes you into the arms of another human, he too hovers a knife over your neck, but it all came second to the numbing surrealness of the whole ordeal. This was it.

You hear your captor tell one of them to tie your hands. You grunt as a man you could only refer to as ‘skull-face’ drops you onto your stomach, you’re left winded by the sudden impact of the rough wooden floor of the boat. He ties your hands and when it’s over, he turns you to your side and leaves to join the captain.

You close your eyes.

You try to keep your head held up, so the side of your face wasn’t pressed into the sandy wet floor. The boat picks up speed and you hear the rush of water as the men follow the path to the cave’s entrance.

As if to comfort yourself before the end, you curl your tail inwards. But as you do, your fin catches the end of a blunt object. Tilting your head down and opening your eyes, you can see a small knife that lay at the end of the boat – it’s handle was close to your fins. If you stretched just enough, you could obtain it.

Your heart awoke with fervour at the chance to strike before they could put you down. You whip your tail towards the knife. It's just short that you have to absolutely stretch your tail's length to grip the end of the handle. With the blade in your tail's hold, you're worried that the men had heard your movements.  You glance at the four, but their backs are still to you. Quickly, you swing your tail backwards and you manage to wedge the knife at the ropes which tied your hands.

You feel your heart hammering against your chest as you slowly move the knife back and forth and, finally, cut the rope around your hands. With your hands free, you brace your hands on the boat floor to push your torso up and turn your body to have your back on the floor. The exhaustion leaves you careless as the sound of your exertion causes the men to turn their heads to the back of the boat. Seeing that you're free, skullface immediately draws a pistol.

At first, you freeze. But, remembering your limited time alive anyway, you brandish the small knife at him with one arm while the other pushes against the floor to help you move your body to the back of the boat. Quickly, you feel your back hit the wooden end of the boat and all you can hear is your shallow breathing as you hold your puny knife at gunpoint.

The two men beside him have stopped rowing too, their gaze upon the stand off, shoulders tense and eyes wary.

“Stand down.” Your captor – their leader - commands. Skullface stills at that, and moves aside to allow him to walk towards you. You only glare and tighten the two-hand grip on the handle as the captain walks and kneels on one knee in front of you. Something about his tired eyes and the escape of a small sigh stops you from lunging towards his neck with the blade.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you.” And it’s stupid, the way you could almost believe him. You blame the burnt exhaustion you find lacing his tone instead of the sharp edge you had come to associate with the man. You don’t move the knife away. He’s unfazed. “What’s your name?”

You don’t waver, “Let me leave. Right now.”

“We will. When we reach the cave’s exit.”

“Liar.” You fire back immediately.

You hear another human’s voice from one of the boats that had been trailing behind. "What are you doing, Price?” He shouts – an irritated bark.

“Nothing, Graves.” Your captor responds back in a raised voice, “Give us a minute.” He tells him before turning those blue eyes back to you. “Look, we had no idea you were here.” He holds a hand over your heart, a gesture you recognised to mean as one of sincerity on land but here, on the sway of the ocean surface, it fell flat. Recognising your unconvinced look, he sighs, “Your people, they seem to care for you. They would have never let me, or my crew leave unscathed if it weren’t for your safety." He sees your brows furrow a little. A curiosity of where he was going with this speech soothed your hostility. “And whether you believe me or not, it’s the same f'me. If securing your safety brings my men a safe passage out of ‘ere. I’m not risking it.” With that, he holds out a hand, palm up. You remove your gaze from his as you try to gather your thoughts.

When you reflected on earlier, it made sense. Considering everything, it genuinely seemed that these humans had no idea that they would meet merfolk. You meet his eyes and the stern, but calm, gaze holds your own as you seem to surrender the blade to his hands.

But you swore to never let your fate rest on humans again. And that is what drives you to turn the blade on yourself.

You ignore the captain's yell as you drive the blade towards your heart. But he's quick and is able to wrap his hands over yours. Not enough to stop you, but he manages to divert your path from your beating heart to your shoulder.

You gasp at the cut, but your shock transforms to fury at realising what he's done. You lock eyes with the human and try to pull the blade out. Perhaps you may get lucky and bleed out.

No such luck. The blade remains wedged, the captain keeping his grip. Before you realise it, he has his other hand grab your wrist before turning your body around and pinning you back down on the ground. He ignores your curses, effortlessly keeping you pinned to the floor. Instead, he shouts out to his men, you don't know or care what for but you figure it out nonetheless when you feel your hands being tied again and a blindfold obscuring your vision.

You don't stop resisting - if you're to die, let it be at the hands of the sea - but eventually, he leaves you alone and you feel the boat start up again. And whether it was the fear, panic, your wound or even being out of the water this long, everything fades to nothingness.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A frantic getaway from the cave and the swarms of raging mermaids and mermen leaves the pirates to regroup and reflect back on the ship. Price and his men look over the map once more, double checking and confirming their location, while some men are treated for their wounds and others start filling an empty crate with water for the mermaid.

Price hears a couple whistles from the deck. The questioning gaze he sends his men draws a somewhat awkward moment.

A beat passes before Gaz coughs, “The mermaid, cap, they’ve put her in the crate but she’s a bit exposed now that we’re in the sun.” Price narrows his eyes at that before turning away from the table and makes his way down the deck to the crate.

“Something interesting here, men?” He sternly asks the small group of pirates that had crowded around the mermaid. They straighten up and turn to face him.

One of them pipes up, “Nothing, cap, just not every day you see a mermaid.”

“Could say the same for a pair o’ tits for you, mate." Another cuts in with a smirk.

“Enough. Leave her alone until we figure out what to do.” Price orders and the men disperse. Price is about to turn to turn away and regroup with Graves and his men but catches your form still bound and exposed.

Your eyes were shut, and someone must have removed the knife to place bandages around your shoulder. Price notes and simmers at the unnecessary cruelty of leaving your chest uncovered. He begins to unbutton his waistcoat and, once he pulls it off, cuts free the rope on your hands. He doesn’t let his eyes wonder over the glow of your skin in the sunset lighting, instead, methodically slipping your arms through the waistcoat's holes. Price ignores the feel of the brush of his fingers over your skin as he fixes the buttons before walking away.

Approaching his men and Graves, he doesn’t miss the way Ghost narrows in on his missing waistcoat.

“Graves.” He says. This stops the man’s chatter with his shadows. “A word.” At that, the others leave their leaders on the upper deck. Graves is nonchalant, sharpening a knife as he waits for Price.

“What seems to be the problem?” He asks, the cadence of his voice gives the question a knowing tone.

“The problem is I have an injured mermaid on my ship Graves, that wasn’t part of the deal. We came here for treasure, not to stir up trouble with the merfolk.” Price can feel the pressings of a migraine settling so he tries to focus on the warm dying embers of the sky. “Now with us practically holding one of them hostage, we’re never going to be get back in that cave. It will be even worse when she dies. What do you suppose we do?”

Graves stops sharpening the knife, holding it up to see it in the final rays of the sun, “This is your problem, Price. You think our treasure is some kind of chest of gold but it’s not.” He walks towards Price, removing something from his pocket and then holds it out to him. A letter.

“This arrived for you yesterday, from Shepherd. Thought it was for me, sorry.” Graves commented, unapologetic. Price clenches his jaw but accepts the paper. He opens it up and there laid a single phrase: Keep it alive.

“He wants a mermaid?” Price says, taken aback.

Graves hums. “I suppose, how does that saying go? Not all treasure is silver and gold.”

At that. Price lets his eyes go back to you, the setting of the sun had you washed in a glow of warm tones, eyes still shut tight, head lolled to the side so he could see the crane of your neck and his dampened waistcoat clinging to your form.

You may not have been gold coins, but right there, you glinted in the sun like one.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Note: this was born from a hyperfixation/love for john price, the pirates of the carribean movies and mermaid aus, with that please forgive any inaccuracies with piracy and in general tbh (><). Hope you enjoy (^^)!!

Thank you sm for reading (^^) !! If you want to be notified for chapter 2, you can follow my page as I'll solely be posting fics <3 Much love for likes, reblogs and comments (><)

[alkaline-wtr]

WE WILL SURVIVE

- - CHAPTER 7 - -

Ghost x reader

Description: Graves and reader run into a familiar group of survivors on their search for the sanctuary. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Graves x reader, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader,angst, explicit language, weapons, mentions of death, gore, blood, and violence. WC: 3.4k

My Masterlist

** Wow, where to start... I'M SORRY... I lost motivation to write for a bit. My cat passed away which completely halted anything that wasn't absolutely necessary for my survival. So, yeah... the chapter is really late. I've been awaiting this chapter for so long because, I included one of my favorite Soap quotes that lives in my head rent free. Which I've pretty much been planning to do since chapter one, lol. It took a different direction than I originally planned but, I think it's still a decent one! It's also a longer one so, hopefully that'll make up for my hiatus. I already have plans for the ending. So, the story may not be much longer but, I am leaving the journey to the ending open and am just feeling it out as I go. Lastly, Ghost girlies please do not panic!! I know the Graves fluff seems scary right now but, I promise it isn't what it seems. Enjoy.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist please, let me know.

<< PART 1 / << PART 6

The dull morning sun seeps through the windshield, and you stretch out, back stiff from being curled up on the seat all night.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,”

Phillip said in his typical cheery tone. The endearing nickname causes a small smile to form on your face.

You sit up with a yawn.

“You should get out and stretch your legs a bit, we’ll be doing a lot more driving today.”

You glanced at Phillip's lap. In it was the crumpled map the man had given you yesterday.

You couldn’t seem to get the images out of your head, the gushing of blood from his wife’s body as the infected broke her skin with their jagged teeth. The man’s glassy eyes looked up to the heavens as he held the gun to his temple.

You squeezed your eyes closed and pinched the bridge of your nose to expel the memories. Was that just the fate of everyone who manages to survive this world? Watching everyone you love torn, unforgivingly, to pieces until there is nothing left for you to do but take your own life?

“Do you really think there's a sanctuary?”

You ask. Although you didn't feel like talking, you hoped that starting up a conversation would redirect your thoughts. You were in much need of a distraction after the events of yesterday. Phillip scans the map.

“I think... It’s possible. Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to go. Right?”

The question seemed genuine as if Phillip wanted to know if you had anywhere in mind. You considered it for a moment. Was there anywhere you'd want to go? With the state of the world traveling for pleasure just seemed pointless. At least heading to the sanctuary, bullshit or not, is better than an aimless trip to nowhere.

“No. I guess you're right.”

You respond softly. He sighs looking ahead for a moment almost as if contemplating his own suggestion. You wondered if Phillip had the same nagging sense of hope about this place as you did. As much as you wanted to dismiss the thought of some actual good coming from such tragedy, it was in your nature as people to cling to the curiosity.

“Well… let’s get some food in us, stretch our legs, and then we’ll be on our way.”

The way he spoke it seemed so obvious. Like you were just a couple friends on a casual road trip. You couldn’t quite decide if you liked that about Phillip. His attempts at making the day-to-day feel like it had been, were appreciated. It wasn’t wrong to enjoy these slower moments, it was just the reality setting in that made it feel unacceptable. The truth was, things would never return to how they were, and it was hard to feel like you were allowed to still enjoy life despite that fact.

You sat on the open tailgate drinking a can of chunky soup. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but you certainly missed your microwave.

Phillip ate in silence, his focus fixed on the map as he planned the route ahead.

The next hours were quiet again. The engine lightly vibrated through the truck as you watched out the window. You'd almost wished you could stop at a library and stock up on books. Really anything to stimulate your mind. Without it, there was nothing to shoo away the thoughts that crept in reminding you of the ruin and suffering. You guessed that had never really changed from the world before.

But, even with books, there was nothing that could distract you enough from the heavy feeling in your stomach. Like the weight of the world was anchoring you to this tired state. You were torn from your thoughts when Phillip spoke.

"What the hell."

Phillip muttered to himself. You lifted your head, straightening up to look at whatever it was Phillip had seen. Your chest tightened in both anxiety and excitement at the sight of people. Survivors, three of them.

Of all the weeks you'd spent walking through empty streets focused on nothing but survival, this one had proved that there were more survivors than you'd thought.

Phillip slowed, and you began to get nervous. In a world where every encounter could mean life or death, trusting strangers was a gamble, and one you weren't so lucky with. Yet, Phillip didn't seem worried.

So far, most encounters you'd had with others since the outbreak were unpleasant but, Phillip gave you hope. His actions and personality were a stark contrast from those, and if against all odds, you'd found one good person, then there had to be more. Maybe these three men on the side of the road were some of them.  

"Well, look who we have here,"

Phillip says, rolling the window down with a cocky smile. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned through it. The three take a defensive stance. As would anyone in their situation. It takes them a moment, they're all clearly on high alert as they eye the truck. Finally, a sense of recognition sets in, and one of them scowls.

"Graves? What the fuck!"

He exclaimed in an accent that sounded like it could be Scottish. Graves? Right. That's Phillip... But how do they know him? Who are these people?

"What's going on?"

You asked as he parked the truck. Phillip didn't even bother to answer you as he got out, a wide smile plastered on his face. The men, however, didn't seem to be as glad as he was to see him.

Hesitantly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out too, torn between following him or staying back.

There was an air of hostility and anger from the men. They all seemed to be strong and fit. Not that Phillip wasn't as well, but if it came down to it, you were outnumbered, and your few hours of target practice weren't going to mean anything if these men pulled weapons.

As your feet reached the pavement you took a deep breath. This probably wasn't a good idea but, if he seemed comfortable enough with them you shouldn't worry too much, should you?

"I can't believe it."

He laughs. His hands going to rest on his hips.

"1-4-1. As I live and breathe. How're ya holding up Captain?"

Phillip reaches out a hand enthusiastically in an attempt to shake hands with one of the men. You observe the interaction from the other side of the truck. Not yet sure if you wanted to find your way to Phillips's side.

The man he'd referred to as 'Captain' keeps his stance. Head tilted, chest puffed out, fingers intertwined and resting in front of him. Judging by his angry expression, he didn't seem like one for pleasantries.

"What do you want?"

The angry Scottish one says stepping forward with an aggressive snarl. Was he looking for a fight?

You glanced to the truck where your bag was debating whether or not you should arm yourself. On one hand, you wanted to be prepared if things went south. Though, no one had them out they still had quicker access to their weapons than you or Phillip.

Ultimately, you decided against it trusting Phillip to de-escalate to situation with his charismatic nature. Besides, if you were to reach for a gun now it would only give them more reason to take the defensive.

"Stand down Soap."

The captain says. His sultry British tone contrasted the unapproachable demeanor.

The third man between them just stood tall. His expression is unreadable behind the sunglasses and baseball cap he had on. Based on the tension alone you could assume it wasn't a pleasant one either.

Phillip throws his hands up in defense, his smile never wavering despite the surrounding hostility. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Look fellas, I know we've had our disagreements but, this is a dog-eat-dog world, and you know just as well as I do Captain, that there is strength in numbers... Let's help each other out here."

Although you'd always been aware of Phillips's arrogance, this was the most you'd seen it in action. You weren't even sure what Phillip could possibly need from these men anyway. You had a truck, gas, food, and water. As far as you were concerned you were rich in this fight for survival.

"Right... Disagreements."

The Scotsman scoffed. Soap. You thought, committing the name to memory. It was the best you could do to piece together the relationship between the four.

"Seems you're missin' one. Where's Ghost?"

Phillip asks the men. Everyone stiffened, followed by a tense silence. Soap's angry demeanor mixed with a hint of sorrow.

"Don't know."

The captain responds.

You felt a tightness in your chest. Had you heard them correctly? Ghost... There had only ever been one man you'd known to go by a name like that, it had to be the same one, right? I mean what are the chances of multiple people on the same continent being named something so obscure? Especially with the global population being at an all-time low.

Considering the hostility, you were a little scared to speak up. Though, clearly Ghost was someone of importance to these men and if you could offer them information maybe they would be more welcoming to the pair of you.

"D-did you say Ghost?"

You asked, feeling embarrassed as everyone turned their attention to you.

"Like... Tall, mask, not much of a people person..."

You continued a hint of annoyance coating your words. All eyes remained on you and even Phillip looked at you with a hint of surprise. Your attempt to ease the tension seemingly failed.

"You know him?"

The man in the glasses spoke up.

You nod. Maybe not as much of a failure as you thought?

"He was with me... well, only for a bit. He left."

This piqued Soap's interest the most of the three men. The captain steps forward dropping his arms to his sides.

"How long ago did you last see him?"

You shrugged.

"Maybe about 3 days ago?"

The men all share surprised glances.

"Holy... He's alive."

Soap mutters. Okay, tension eased. You look at Phillip for confirmation. His eyes are on you, a hint of questioning behind them. Had he known who Ghost was this entire time?

You silently cursed yourself for not mentioning him sooner.

"Where is he?"

The captain asked you desperately.

"He... I'm not sure. We were in a suburban area just outside the city. That's where he left me."

Soap's movements were animated as he turned away with a frustrated sigh, one hand resting on his hip while the other dragged across his stubble.

Judging by that reaction the tension was back.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

You say starting to feel guilty for even bringing it up now. The captain raises his palm, almost as a gesture of thanks, acknowledging that the information was appreciated before turning to Soap.

"Alright, alright."

The captain says trying to soothe the obviously irritable Scott.

"We know he's alive. So..."

His words trail off, but you can see the cogwheels in his head turning.

"We'll set up camp for the night. In the morning a couple of us will head back to the city and look for him."

Soap nods.

"Aye, I'll go."

The captain shakes his head.

"You'll stay here with the girl. Gaz and I will drive out with Graves."

"Are ye kidding me?!"

Soap exclaimed clearly not happy about that plan.

"Cap you aren't really trusting Graves on this are you?"

The man in the sunglasses finally speaks. His tone remains skeptical.

"I mean come on Price, after everything you really think Graves is going to be any help to us?"

Price. That must be the captain, the man in charge. What did he mean though 'after everything?' What kind of history does Phillip have with them? Why are they so angry and distrustful? And most importantly, why are you the only one who isn't?

"No Gaz. I don't. That's why he's going with us. So, we can keep an eye on him."

Price says coldly. There was a lot of unspoken anger radiating in the air, and it was all directed at one man. You side-eyed Phillip cautiously. Whatever he'd done to them must have been bad if this was their reaction. Until you figured it out maybe it was best if you stayed more alert around him too.

But wait... No. He'd never been anything but kind to you. He helped you when Ghost left. He did more to help you than Ghost had even considered and in less time.

"I'm right here you know."

Phillip interjects in his usual smart-ass way. His voice broke you from your thoughts and you shoot him a look. One that says, 'Stop poking the bear'. Clearly, these men weren't fond of him, and considering you were his company, they may feel inclined to attach the same disdain to you.

"You shut up!"

Soap growled stepping towards Graves daringly.

Price slaps a hand to his broad chest to hold him back.

"Let's just focus right now on finding Ghost. We get off this road, rest, and make a plan after."

Price's voice remains calm and authoritative as he tries to reel in Soap's whirlwind of emotions. He glanced around, his eyebrow raised as if half-excepting someone to object. When no one does, he nods to Soap, who's still death glaring Phillip.

"Alright then. Let's go."

By sundown, Phillip is backing the truck between a couple trees. Enough to keep it concealed but, leaving space in case we have to leave in a hurry. The engine shuts off abruptly and he gets out sighing as he stands beside you leaning against the trunk of the tree you were sitting under. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the three men convene around a small fire pit.

"Philip?"

Your soft voice cut through the tense silence.

He keeps his eyes trained forward and doesn't respond but, somehow you knew you had his attention.

"How do you know them? And why do they... hate you so much?"

Your voice faltered at the end. Hopefully, it wasn't a sore subject but, by the longing gaze he gave the trio, your hope fell short.

He takes a moment to find his words before turning to you.

"I've worked with Captain Prices team before. Let's just say... we had a difference in opinion when it came to directing our teams and following orders."

You stayed quiet expecting him to continue but, it seemed that that was as much explanation as you would get.

Phillip pushes off the tree and reaches out to help you up.

"Come on. Let's eat."

The rest of the evening was awkward, to say the least. You sat off to the side with Graves while Price and Gaz went over a map likely planning out their search for Ghost. Soap shot Graves glares every so often from across the fire.

"Looks like he wants to kill you or something."

You mutter looking down at your feet. The sound of Phillip's knife cutting into a tin soup can sent a shiver through you. You scrunch your nose in disgust, practically tasting the metal with each high-pitched scrape.

"Yeah, well... He' s probably imagining a hundred different ways he could."

Phillip says handing you the open can. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment. More soup? Great...  

As Phillip reached for another can he glanced over at Soap catching his eye. Smiling in amusement. He seemed unbothered by the situation perhaps even enjoying how he was getting under Soaps skin.

"Should I be worried about being here alone with him tomorrow?"

Phillip shakes his head as he opens his own can.

"Soap is one of the good ones... one of the best. Besides, their feelings are mine to shoulder."

You nod glancing over at them. Soap is now turned to Price as he speaks to his team. It was strange to you how Phillip was brushing off the tension between him and the men. Even the way he spoke about Soap despite his malice. He was choosing to see the good in them and it was clear he held Price in high regards. That was the trait of a much more likable man than the three were making him out to be.

But the question still stands, if Phillip respects Price and his team so much, then why do they hold so much hatred towards him? What is it that you aren't seeing?

The next morning everyone was up early packing for their trip back to the city. Soap was still adamant about helping search for Ghost. He didn't seem to be the type who enjoyed sitting back while everyone else got in on the action.

"I know you, Johnny. And right now, your energy is best directed elsewhere. So, you'll stay here and watch the girl while we search for Ghost. That's final."

Soap opens his mouth to object but is halted with one last look from Price. He had had enough arguing. Soap seemed eager for Ghost's return. You wondered how you would feel if they really did find him. How would it be to face the man who abandoned you after promising his help?

You had a lot of things to say to him but, you weren't holding your breath. From what you'd seen Ghost was a difficult man to find and after three days who knows where he could be by now.

You stood a couple feet away your arms crossed over your body in a self-soothing manner. You push away the thought of Ghost and stuff down the rising anger, as you look back at Phillip.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Phillip would be gone, and he was asking you to trust a stranger, one who proved to be nothing but, angry, argumentative, and borderline murderous.

Phillip swung his bag through the open truck window before walking over to you. He tilted his head sympathetically; you might as well have had your feelings tattooed on your forehead with how easily he read you.

"You'll be alright. We'll only be gone a couple days."

Phillip's hands come to your shoulders in reassurance. You nod looking over at the men. Gaz climbs into the truck finding his place in the middle of the front seat while Price stands on the driver's side giving his last instructions to Soap.

"Hey."

Phillip says attempting to gain your attention again. Your eyes snap back to him.

"We'll be fine. Just hang out here, rest for a bit and before you know it, I'll be back. And when I am we'll search the map for somewhere cool to go, huh?"

You couldn't help but smile at that. Phillip was good at remaining optimistic. He made things easy.

You didn't know him well and may have only just met days prior but, you have come to care for him. Even enough to consider him a friend. Which is important in a world like this.

Despite this, you still couldn't calm the gnawing pit of anxiety in your stomach.

"What about the sanctuary?"

You ask hugging your arms tighter to your chest.

"If there really is a sanctuary, it's not going anywhere. So, we can afford to take a couple detours for adventure, right?"

You only smile in return. Phillip was right. What was the point in rushing towards something that wasn't even guaranteed?

"Come on, sweetheart."

Phillip says pulling you into a hug. His chin rests on the top of your head.

"Don't declare me dead just yet."

He jokes. You returned the hug loosely. The affection was new to you but not unwelcome. After a few moments, the sound of the truck horn beeps shortly, and he pulls away. Price starts up the truck from his place in the driver's seat. His elbow resting through the opened window. Soap steps back and glances at Phillip as well still glaring daggers at him.

"Duty calls."

Phillip mumbles and you chuckle in response. He turns away his hand lingering on your shoulder as long as his arm's length would allow as he heads to the passenger side.

Your anxiety tightened its hold on you. Soap was here so, no matter the outcome, you wouldn't be alone. But what was company if you didn't trust them? If they didn't make you feel safe? Somehow the thought of that scared you even more. The worry settled deep in your chest. If Phillip didn't return, you would just be abandoned once again.

PART 8 >>

Tag list

@yourfavbabigirl @keiraslayz @dcnocap207 @dustycrusty09 @jupiternighties @misspendragonsworld @etherealinthewoods @shadowcompanygirl @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @ghostieghoul711 @mad-die45

[divineatrophy]

The silence stretches and yawns and makes itself comfortable like a cat. Until finally Daniel reaches up and holds up a finger. After a pregnant pause, he presses it against the window. The next moment, the distant plane flies out from under his fingertip. “That’s the third time that same plane has taken off,” Daniel says, fighting to keep his voice neutral. “Weird, right?”

welcome to the hotel dubai. you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

[archerinthevoid]

Chapter 1 – Rewritten:

Pairing: ‘Alex Warren’ x Reader

Male Changeling/Doppelgänger Original Character x Gender Natural Human Reader –

Alex: He/Him pronouns

Summary: Alex Warren deserved to die, and you deserved to be with someone that really loved you.

Warnings: Reader’s original boyfriend is dead, body transformation (possibly body horror?), past toxic relationship [from original Alex]- implied to have been abusive, (if there’s any you think should be added let me know)

*I'm currently trying to decide where to use Y/N and they/them in the body of the text for the reader or you/your with Y/N only when someone's actually saying their name. If you have a preference please let me know.

☽✩☾ Part 1☽✩☾

Words: 679

Alex Warren did not deserve you. He never did. But he was dead now, and he didn’t have you. And now He could have you. He didn’t have a name, or maybe He did, but now it was lost to time. That’s what happens to Doppelgänger’s. Or at least, He thought so. It was hard to tell if it was true, having never actually met another Doppelgänger.

But now the name Alex Warren was free, and in turn his face. What a happy turn of events. Bones cracked and shrank, skin and hair darkening from it’s almost paper white colouring, and His face shifted until he was an exact copy of what the man on the forest floor once looked like.

Now He was Alex Warren. And he didn’t have to be the one to kill him to do it. And after months and months of failed attempts, that had come to a slight relief for him.

☽✩☾

Alex left his original in a deep grave in the middle of the forest. After stripping him of his cloths and personal belongings. He was glad whoever had decided the original Alex needed to die. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to remember every detail of the disgusting human he was about to officially take over the life of.

He remembered how the original Alex would never make an attempt to greet you when either of you got home. That was one thing the new Alex thought he could do.

If he had enough self control, he planned on slowly change his actions to fit what he wanted over time. Because if for even a second you thought something was off with your boyfriend, Alex’s whole plan to be with them would be ruined.

Alex was slowly relocked the door, once he entered, hanging his keys on the hook. The house was oddly quiet as he wondered into through the house into the living room. It was only 9pm, you where always up significantly later than that. Alex once watched you stay up, sat at your desk until you finally decided it was time for bed around 5 in the morning.

The next morning you’d gotten up at 8am. Looking so cute and sleepy through the whole day, yawning as you worked at your desk once more, made food for yourself and original Alex. Though he was glad to see that you’d slept a full 10 hours the next night.

Upon entering the living room Alex was greeted by the beautiful sight of you sprawled across the sofa, scrolling lazily on your phone, only glancing up at the sound of rustling as Alex took off his jacket.

You shot up, leaving your phone on the sofa as a hesitant smile crossed their lips. “I didn’t hear you come in.” You stood up, holding you arms out for a hug. Alex knew he should have resisted it, the urge to hold you so close and so tight. But he couldn’t help it as he pulled you into a tight hug before he could remember to start the act. “Hard day?” You asked, slightly surprised by the physical affection.

Alex coughed, letting go, despite the fact his body screamed to never let them go again. “Yeah…” He trailed, taking in their every feature. So much cuter up close. Especially when they looked so worried, all for him.

“I’m hungry.” He quickly stepped away from you, sitting where you had previously rested your head, letting out a sigh, something the original Alex had done almost every night after getting back from ‘work’.

Your eyes widened. “I’ll make you something!” You quickly made your way to the kitchen. Alex saw what looked like fear flash your eyes. Anger boiled, not at you, nothing you could do would ever make him angry. His anger was aimed at original Alex. Who’s outbursts where the reason for that fear. He was glad that piece of shit was dead.

This Alex would not be like him. This Alex was going to make sure you knew you where safe.

[keysorsomething]

Before the Sun Rises / Caught

1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 6 | 7

The double feature chapters I wrote :) Just wanna say thanks to everyone who's supported these fics, it makes me very happy to see all the likes and reblogs !!

Cross-posted on ao3

Before the Sun Rises

You awake the next morning with no pressure on your chest and nothing in your arms. Still half-asleep, you look around the room. You’re disoriented, like when you take a three-hour nap in the middle of a weekday and wake up covered in sweat and unaware of the concept of time. One thing you catch is that the room is still dark, but you would guess that it’s always dark in here. You haven’t seen a window, after all. You start to rub the sleep from your eyes, fighting a yawn as you try to find the man who seems to have disappeared into the night. Melting into the darkness, as he had each time before.

“Nikto?” You ask, sitting up. Or at least you try, before strong hands meet your shoulders and shove you back into the pillow. You spot his blue eyes staring down at you almost ridiculing, clearly not pleased with your attempt to get out of bed. It’s almost startling, the speed and force with which you’re slammed back, not the hardest you had been slammed into something, but it was sure lacking any form of gentle grace you would expect from the motion. In this context at least. But you’re too tired to really think about the strength in him like you had before or to think about how he had seemingly teleported into your sight and personal space with no sign of where he was prior.

“Stay,” Nikto’s voice growls out. You look up at him, confused and groggy. He lowers himself back on the bed, and then back onto your chest. “I was not done,” He huffs, taking the sleeve of your shirt between two fingers. He pulls on the fabric, turning it over in his hand. His eyes narrow at it, as if your sleeve had offended him.

“Okay,” You mumble, letting your eyes fall back shut. You spend a while like that, enjoying it. Laying on your back with him on your chest, feeling the gentle pull of his hand as he busies himself with your shirt sleeve. It’s a moment of peace, expanded when he stops pulling at your sleeve - it was actually kind of annoying - and instead, his hand rests on your bicep, unmoving. He lets out a soft sigh, and you assume he closed his eyes too. Your breathing synchronizes, as your hand goes back to rubbing his shoulders like you had been doing the night before.

“You will come back tonight,” He states firmly, breaking the shared moment of silence. Your eyes shoot open and your hands pause, unsure how exactly to respond. You did want to come back again. Hell, you wanted to move in with him. You dare to even think you want the world to melt away, for time to be this moment and this moment alone, always and forever, but should you really let him boss you around like that? Should you just agree? Should you agree enthusiastically, with a ‘yes, sir!’? Or do you say no on principle?

“Can you ask nicely?” In a patronizing tone is what comes out of your mouth instead. Like a mom talking to a toddler who just demanded ice cream or something. You don’t have many references for modern-day parenting in the army. Maybe you shouldn’t compare those two things, that was kind of weird. But it wasn’t mansplaining patronizing - and you knew mansplaining, since that was the only thing that came out of Graves’ mouth - it was the other kind. You had no other words for it.

Nikto groans, presumably rolling his eyes, “You will please visit us again tonight,” He corrects, but he doesn’t seem all too happy about it. “пожалуйста?” He breaks out the big guns. How do you deny a masked man who’s speaking in his mother tongue? It may be your biggest weakness.

You sigh, conceding, “Okay. I will,” And he lets out a pleased rumble. A sound you could very much get used to.

“Now go back to sleep,” He huffs grumpily. “пожалуйста..?” You almost listen instantly, but then another thought pops into your head.

“What time is it?” You ask, the thought of being caught once more nagging at the very back of your psyche. He lets out another less-than-pleased huff of a breath at you, this time through his nose. But, hey, is he really blaming you for worrying about both your careers? His head shifts so his eyes meet yours better, and you see a small smudge of eye black left over from him watching it on his right eyelid, hugging the lash line. It almost looks like eyeliner. You also see the curve of his nose. That is skin that is clearly scarred, looking like it would be rough to touch. Healed burns, probably. Chemical burns that stretch over from the right of his face. You aren’t too sure how the mask is doing that, as all of the points where it attaches to the blast plate seem intact, and it’s only a small dip from where it normally sits. You decide not to comment on it, however.

“Early. Four-fifty or so,” He replies firmly. “I would not let you overstay your welcome,” His words are aggressive in phrasing but soft in tone. An odd combo he seems to use often, which you can’t be sure if that is just him or because he isn’t a native English speaker. But, his brows soften too, his hand sliding up but hesitating to make contact with your face or hair. It retreats away. When you look into his eyes, you feel like he wants nothing more than to touch you, and you feel he agrees that this moment is ever so precious. But he doesn’t want to touch you. Perhaps he’s afraid, or perhaps he doesn’t like his face being touched, so he won’t touch yours. The Golden Rule and all that. But you still smile softly down at him, gently rubbing his back. A silent encouragement to do as he pleases, one that is not listened too. After just a beat, you speak again. There’s no point in making the fleeting movement a whole ordeal.

“Well, wake me up when I have,” You tell him, trying to keep your voice low and comforting, the way he likes. He nods in response, eyes staring up at you warily. You both share for a moment the fear of being found out, but you don’t voice it to him. And he does not voice it back.

“Of course,” Nitko mumbles, sliding back into the position he was before your question. You chuckle, wrapping your arms tight around him as he matches the gesture, and lean your head into his. You take a deep breath, letting the whole moment sink into you. The warmth and weight of the man on your chest, the sound of his breathing, the feeling of the cold, hard blast plate against your cheek. It’s all the best thing to ever happen in this place, and you have a feeling it’s the best thing to have ever happened to him.

You sigh, it's nice to share this moment with him. Every moment over the past few days had been precious. You let your head fall back - you had been keeping it up to look at him - but keep your eyes on him as best you can. You still your hand on his back, letting your arm fall limp. He shifts his head slightly on your chest, fully committed to using you as a pillow. The image of him and his peacefully rising chest is wiped away by your eyes falling back shut.

---

Caught

You reawaken to a soft patting of a gloved hand on your cheek. Your eyes open to Nikto just a few inches from his face, his hand gently twapping your cheek to wake you up. You groan, your muscles stretching as best you can under the weight.

“It is time you leave,” He mumbles, but you can see the disappointment in his eyes. “You do not have much time to get back to the barracks before the rest wake up.”

You pout, blinking up at him, “…How come you get a room all to yourself? It’s not fair,” You mumble, closing your eyes. His bed was so much more comfortable than your cot. And it was so much better than sleeping in a room with multiple other people. Just you and him. There’s a moment where you desire much more of this. So much more of this, in a much more domestic manner, but that fantasy is short-lived by a second round of pats on your cheek that don’t relent until your eyes open back up.

“It was a specific request,” Nikto replied, eyes narrowed on you as he tries to keep you from falling back asleep. As always, they are an icy blue that doesn’t match the feeling of having them on you at all. But by now they feel so much cooler than before, like a warm hug or a heated blanket instead of a hot iron. “I told them I would not take the job if they did not accommodate me.”

You nod, rubbing your eyes with a huff. That makes sense, you think. He seems like the guy to do that. Your eye opens now that your hand isn’t over it, and he hasn’t moved. Something a part of you deep inside is grateful for. You don’t know how well you could cope if he was gone just like that. Like how he had appeared earlier. That thought doesn’t last long, none of them do. He was just so much to think about. His eyes are wide, wild as they look down at you. He seems to think that you’re a lot to think about too. Or perhaps you’re assigning that to him, like when people speak for dogs and cats. You’ve been doing that with him a lot more often since that night in the armory. His eyes get a little less wide, and then even less wide. Until his eyes look closed, but you can tell they’re still partly open. God, he has pretty eyelashes.

He then, all at once, presses his still-masked face into yours. The fabric of the mask covering his mouth is rough against your lips. There’s no movement under it, almost as if he’s just smooshing his lips into yours like he isn’t sure how to do it. You feel the cold metal of the blast plate pushing into your forehead like a headache. It almost hurts, but there’s no way it’s enough. Somehow being too much and too little, but not just right. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek, but you don’t get the chance too. You didn’t even get the chance to close your eyes or lean into the kiss. It’s gone all at once, the same way it came. The pressure on your chest where he was laying there, on your forehead where the protruding parts of the metal dug into your skull, the rough fabric almost painfully hot on the skin of your lips, all of it. He pulls away before you can fully process it, before you can take it in for all of its glory. He rolls off of you, laying on the bed next to you facing away, partly curled up. You have to take a moment before you can do anything. You just kissed the Nikto. No, you were just kissed by The Nikto.

“Nikto?” You ask, voice soft and wavering, like if you speak too loud you’ll create a rip in space-time and it will have never happened. He cuts you off before you get any more in.

“Go,” He responds gruffly, and you nod, pulling off the bed. You’re a little stunned, and you do have places to be. You’d be worried that he was upset with you, but you have a feeling he’s just processing it, the same as you. Maybe he’s worried you’re upset with him? You almost feel like you need to cover up, and are subconsciously pulling the covers with you as you try to. You notice when you almost trip, but you catch yourself and throw them back on the bed. You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself before speaking. And before leaving. You had appearances to keep up once you got back to the barracks and you had the three musketeers riding your dick.

“Okay,” You squeak, backing away. Your voice sounds so much more pathetic than you wanted it too, and you really can’t be having that. “See you tonight,” You say very quickly, hoping he’ll know you aren’t upset with him. You then promptly spin on your heels, and swing the door open. You go to step out of the room when you come face to face with a chest. You look up with a soft curse, only to find judging blue eyes staring back at yours from under a makeshift mask. The eyes are hard, angry. You’re in trouble.

“Oh, good morning, Colonel,” You manage to get out through a panicked breath. His arm is raised, you had interrupted him mid-knock. He lowers it, and it’s easy to tell his scowling down at you, eyes narrowing further. He bends slightly at the waist, and you hear the fabric shift and Nikto starts to speak when the room behind you goes silent. König looks behind you, and then back down at you, inching ever closer.

Then, you hear your voice hissed through teeth, a heavy Austrian accent filling your ears.

[hrefna-the-raven]

The hunt

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x reader

Chapter 1 - The plan - Chapter 2 - The bounty - Chapter 3 - The spoils

Summary: the morning after 😉

(this happens before Cooper ends up in that grave)

Words: 1154

Warnings: mild swearing, canon typical violence

Reader: female reader in mind but kept it gender-neutral

Chapter 4 - The betrayal

Cooper woke up first that morning, his breath hitched as he felt your warm body curled up next to him. He could barely remember the last time he woke up like this to someone else. He placed a hesitant kiss on your head, secretly hoping you'd continue to sleep as he attempted to slip out of the bed, fearing that you'd might regret last night. But luck was not on his side as you stirred, slowly waking up at the sudden loss of him next to you. He froze as you wiped the sleep from your eyes while mumbling a good morning in between yawns.

"Look at me", he suddenly said with a trembling voice.

The agonising wait was unbearable, the need to get over with your disgusted stare of regret urged him to cup your cheeks and turn your face towards him. And yet, that gaze he was so afraid of never came, your eyes were simply filled with affection, leaving him stunned.

"Do you know what happens when you force me to look at your naked self?", you chuckled, tracing a finger along his lower lip.

Before he could respond, you leaned in, kissing him gently. Your tongue ghosted teasingly over his lips before you finally got out of bed, collecting your clothes from the floor. Whatever thoughts he was lost in got interrupted when you tossed his worn out blue-yellow shirt at him.

"Let's get ready, we still have a prick to kill", your hands held up a torn piece of fabric, "and I'd like to point out that you, Mr Howard, still owe me a new tanktop."

With a mischievous wink, you playfully threw the torn piece at him, laughing as he caught it inches from his face. His eyes darted between the torn top and your bare chest, a wicked smile dancing on his lips.

"Oh I very much prefer you without it but I won't let anyone claim that this ghoul ain't paying his debts. I'll get ya a new one", he assured you, walking towards the door before turning around one last time, "and I'll scout the area. One can never be too careful."

Cooper shoved your top into a pocket of his coat. Just in case you ever came to your senses and grew disgusted by him, he wanted to hold onto a small reminder of better times. Leaving the motel, he was about to turn the corner when an oddly familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Do ya really think he's here?"

"Course, it's closest, idiot!"

He heard a loud slap, causing him to chuckle despite the nausea Honcho's voice provoked in him.

"Ouch! Don't need hittin' me! Shouldn't we get more firepower before takin' on a guy like 'im? And isn't he with 'er? Two of 'em is too much!"

"Nah sumthin' tells me he took care of 'er already, he's a ruthless bastard but we got the upper hand, surprise 'n all so shut up and get on lookin' for that ugly ass ghoul!"

Cooper turned on his heel, rushing back through the entrance of the motel and sprinted up the stairs. His mind raced a thousand miles an hour on how to get out of this alive and, most importantly, ensure your survival as well since you wouldn't benefit from the same healing perks. As he jumped past the last step, he bumped into a woman, her noisy complaints instantly filling the hallway. Although he saw her lips moving, the words failed to reach him as the pandemonium and desperation in his mind gradually took shape.

"You know what lady? Today's your unlucky day! No ghoul will ever be in your way again."

He seized her by the neck and forcefully flung her into the corner of your shared room upon entering. You looked up at the sudden turmoil, your eyes darting between the woman and Cooper. Without uttering a single word, he approached, grabbed your shotgun from the table and fired at the other woman. You shrieked, watching her brain splatter on the walls as her body crumpled to the floor.

"What the hell Coop?!", you shouted, your gaze never leaving the lifeless form before you.

Although his exterior remained composed and almost icy, a burning panic raged within him. Torn between the honest truth and the convenient lie, he took a moment to reevaluate the situation. You were both fucked if he didn't act soon and, while a few days ago, he wouldn't have given a damn about anyone else's fate, he did right now, reminding himself of how much simpler life had been when he was that selfish bastard everyone feared and despised. His hands gripped your arms, holding them painfully tight as he hoisted you up from the bed onto your feet. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes that you couldn't place. He must have spotted something suspicious outside but as long as he wouldn't speak up, you were left to guess.

"Coop, please tell me what's wrong", you pleaded.

"Gotta trust me on this one, sweetheart", he replied before he pressed his lips on yours, "and I'm sorry."

"Wha-"

The rest of your question got stuck in your throat as your entire world abruptly plunged into darkness. Cooper cradled your limp body in his arms, burying his face in your soft hair and inhaling deeply before gently lowering you to the ground and carefully tucking you underneath the bed. He grabbed the last few of your clothes that still clung to the chair and proceeded to dress the headless corpse. Just as he was about to stand up, the door burst open, Slim barging in with his gun trained on the ghoul, closely followed by Honcho, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well well well", Slim giggled with excitement, "looks like ya were right, Honcho, ol' fucker got 'er good."

A faint feeling of relief washed over Howard as Dom's stupid lackeys presumed the lifeless body was yours.

"Ah ya know me too well", Cooper chuckled, his gaze fixed on Slim, who took a cautious step back while keeping his gun aimed, "so what's it gonna be?"

"Given ya relations with my pa, I'm truly sorry for gettin' ya like this but you know...caps are caps", Honcho began.

"Aaah my presence makes the great Dom Pedro too nervous?", Cooper mocked, slowly raising his hands, "well took care of 'er for you two little birdbrains, now take me to the boss, will ya?"

Honcho flashed his yellowed teeth in a grimy smile as Biggie made his way into the room and positioned himself behind Howard. He slammed the rear end of his Junk Jet onto the back of the ghoul's head, knocking him out. All that was left now, was for the unconscious Cooper to hope that those three idiots wouldn't find you while dragging his body off to Dom Pedro.

Part 5

Feel free to reblog if you liked the story 😊

Tags: @dreamtofus

[sleepyheadincoulds]

hey guys it’s been a minute 😛

so I’ve recently started working on chapters for each book that all fall under Emmanuel’s perspective. This is just a short excerpt of the first chapter in book 1, and it’s unfinished. Hence, due to my little retirement, I have been working on things.

and please, if you have any recommendations of what platform I can use to publish each book and chapter so it’s organized and quick to find, that would be nice!

tags:

@boopshoops @nyx-of-night @oya-oya-okay @starry-night-rose @prince-kallisto @cheerleaderman @cherrytreegrove @shrinemaidenmajime @distant-velleity @thehollowwriter @br3adtoasty

Chapter 1, The Morning Sun **WIP**

I naturally woke up, it was 6:34 AM—according to the clock on the wall. The sun was rising from the hills of its grave, and I had to get up—carefully—without waking up Grim—like a responsible girl. Or a student at a magical school. Well, apparently I am now and defying all norms. I don’t have an ounce or atom of magic in my being. I almost laughed at the student orientation, but of course, I am not rude. First impressions do matter, like Father said. 

As I was watching my green tea steep, I thought back to the dream I had. Simply, I was Eve in the garden of Eden. Except there is no talking snake or Adam. Just me. But the flowers had eyes, and they stared at me. There were tulips, daisies, sunflowers, even the reddest roses. Daffodils, pansies, sweet peas, and violets. They all had eyes, or at least an eye for each blossom. I thought to kiss each flower’s eye, and each one closed their eye and droop to sleep. There is more time in dreams, so it could’ve taken me a few minutes or hours or days. If flowers had eyes, we should kiss them good night. After I was done kissing each flower, a mourning dove was perch on top of a tree. It’s neck—strangely—extended down to me. Only its bones of its neck did. The sound of bones chatting and jingling. It then spoke, “You have lovely eyes, like jewels.” I was charmed, but that’s when my dream ended. I know, how terrible! My dream should’ve lasted longer.

My tea was finally done steeping. I took the tea bag out to discard it, and stirred some lemon juice in my tea. Personally, I would’ve had ginger and honey mixed in as well, but I’m using my money from being a janitor at this school. Well, used to, until Crowley was surprised by my capability of having the characteristics of a “leader” and a “model.” Which made me and Grim students. Today is my first day of being a student of this school; it was almost like K-12 all over again, except my parents are not here to cheer me on. 

As I consumed my tea, the warm liquid flowing through my limbs, I thought about my father and mother. Oh, I am sure they miss me and wondering what I’m up to now. Out meeting new people again and making friends (even though they can be idiots), or hey! I fought a monster for a mage or magic rock or whatever you call it. That helped Ace and Deuce not get expelled. I heard a yawn and footsteps behind me. “Em, you’re up this early?” It was Ace, I forgot he slept over.

Apparently, he managed to anger his dorm leader, Riddle (I believe so, my memory of people isn’t the best), by eating a tart. Which I found both funny and ridiculously confusing (my humor is awful, I know). Of course, I let him sleepover for a couple of days, I am not cruel.

“Yes, I am up.” I responded to his question, taking another sip from my tea. “I almost forgot you slept over, but how was your rest? I hope the ghosts let you.”

Ace scoffed, the poor boy still had that odd collar around his neck. “Beats better than Heartslabyul.”

“I figured, anyways, care for some morning tea? I only have green tea and some lemon juice.” I offered. Of course, you muse offer tea to your guests.

————

Later we were walking down Main Street. Grim was showing off his new collar with pride. A magic gemstone nested in his collar. From what I learned, every student typically has one, it’s where their magic is possessed. I was walking behind Grim, and some eyes were watching me, as if I’m some new exotic species.

I was fairly dressed; presentable enough for my first day. Crowley gave me a new uniform, which I managed to style. It was a long black skirt with a white button-up blouse; and the school uniform blazer along with a black and white, stripped tie. I was wearing my black Converse shoes; not the typical, professional-dress store, but they’re only two years old and still in perfect condition. I used a blue ribbon as a hair band to keep most of my hair out of my face, but I was lucky enough to buy hair products to keep my curls under control. My satchel from home had most of my makeup; my lipgloss, mascara, and eyeliner. Oh but I wish I had at least my foundation and concealer, and my favorite eyeshadow palette—very beautiful pink and brown colors. I can hear the whispers and hushed tones from other students, as if my ears are deaf to them. I find it funny as well. Imagine, me, a fourteen-year-old attending an elite magical school for mages and doesn’t meet my qualifications to be one. But I was taken in out of pity, which I find it somewhat amusing.

[stesierra]

Okay! Since people are asking, here's some of my writing. I'm not used to sharing because on Twitter no one really cared... 🥺 Please let me know if you're interested in learning more about this book or being added to a tag list for my stuff! I love questions about my stuff too... This is new adult fantasy even though publishing says new adult isn't real.

(please excuse my MC's attitude because she is depressed! We've all been there when we released a plague of skeletons.)

The Bone Queen

Chapter 1

When I fell in love with Aubrey, I never thought I'd dream of killing him one day. Why would I? He was already dead.

Now, two years after he’d won my heart with lies, we stood alone in my dimly lit parlor, between its lion-footed couches all in pine green and gold and blood red, Queen Idony’s colors. The golden tapestries that thickly coated the walls depicted Bandrum Palace as seen from the streets of Asteraxe: a many-floored edifice that sprawled across the top of a hill, half hidden behind a mighty wall.

The enormous skirts of my dress weighed me down like I was dragging my own casket around. The bodice hugged my ribs and the corset I didn't need, embellished with lace and embroidered birds, and the sleeves poofed around my skinny arms. It left my scrawny shoulders bare, and even with the fire that crackled in my fireplace, the winter air inside the palace chilled me.

The dress was ivory. The same ivory as my fiancé’s bones.

He clenched my hand, his icy finger bones pinching my skin, and his touch revolted me. But I didn't draw away. I'd learned by now that there was no escape. What point was there in trying? Besides, I deserved this unhappiness. I'd brought it upon myself. Upon the entire kingdom of Sweelough.

When I'd met Aubrey, he'd been nothing but a handsome ghost on Lake Langlyn’s shores. But since I'd freed him—freed them all—he’d become something more. Not alive, even Queen Idony couldn't do that, but she'd given him back his skeleton with which to wield swords and write notes and touch my vulnerable skin. His ghost hadn't gone anywhere; it wrapped around his skeleton like transparent flesh around bones. Now, when I looked into his face, I saw both sharp gray eyes and yawning sockets, both a full, cleanshaven mouth and a skull’s grinning teeth. And the clothes his ghost wore echoed the very real doublet and hose he'd pulled over his bones. Green and red and gold, of course. He honored the queen in everything he did.

He bent close to me, brushing the top of my fashionable tower of hair with his jawbone. He stank of potpourri and dust. “Tell me you love me, Elise.”

I said nothing, just breathed and thought about hitting his bones over and over again with a hammer. In my mind, he crumbled into bits, nothing but ashes in a grave. Of course, it was a fantasy; no one could kill someone who was already dead. I knew because so many people had died trying. Because I had hit him with an axe down on the shore of Lake Langlyn, and it had only torn his clothes.

He said again, “We are to marry in a month. Tell me you love me. Smile at me and say my name, the way you used to.”

“Aubrey,” I said. I didn't love him, but what good would it do to tell him again, when he would only yell at me? It was pointless. Everything was pointless.

His ghostly eyes narrowed, and he crushed my hands in his. “Smile, Elise. Thank me for taking you to wife. For when we met, you were nothing but a serf too stupid to write her own name. Now look at you. Aren't you grateful?”

Tears stung my eyes. When I'd met him, at sixteen, I'd been happy. I'd had parents and four brothers who loved me, and it hadn't mattered that none of us knew how to read or write. What did farmers need letters for? Now, two years later, life was meaningless, and it didn't matter that the tutors he'd forced on me had taught me to scribble my name and read a handful of poems.

Aubrey sighed and leaned down to kiss the back of my hand. For a horrifying second, his lips passed through me, and his teeth brushed my skin. “I'm sorry, Elise. I know I push you too hard. You'll be a good wife. Docile and obedient. Quiet. A good mother to my children.”

If I was docile and quiet, it was only because I'd given up. But his last sentence made me whip my head up. “Children? What do you mean, children?”

He smiled up at me, his spectral mouth matching the grinning teeth of his skull. “Why, Elise, didn't you think I would want a heir?”

“Why would you?” I cried. “Lady Kinburg tells everyone how she had no choice but to hang her descendents when she came back, because they wouldn't return her lands. The dead don't want heirs. You're planning to rule forever. Aren't you?”

“Of course,” my fiancé agreed, straightening up. “But I would still want children. Offspring who will love and admire me, just as you do.”

Unless they inherited my ability to see and hear ghosts, all the children would see was a skeleton that couldn't even talk to them. They wouldn't admire him. They'd fear him, just like I did. Somehow, that didn't matter, not when there was a bigger issue. “Aubrey, you're dead. You can't sire children. It's impossible. Are you planning to have some living man bed me?”

He scoffed, reaching up to seize my chin. “I'll kill any man who lays a finger on you. You're mine. Forever.”

I ripped my face out of his grip. “If we adopt children, they won't be able to see you.” No other living person in Asteraxe, the capital of Sweelough, saw and heard the dead like I did. They just saw skeletons, awful and deadly. It was my gift and my curse to see more. A curse that had doomed me and all of Sweelough.

He let me retreat to sit upon one of the couches. “But children born of your body will, my love. And it's not impossible. Do you have so little faith in the queen? In one month, on the day of our wedding, she will cast spells upon me to give me the ability to lie with you. With her magic, she'll quicken my seed in your belly. And nine months later, you'll bear me a perfect son.”

Aubrey was going to have sex with me. He was going to force me to bear his child. My thoughts ran in terrified, anguished circles. My limbs grew weak, and I sank into my couch. I wanted to vomit all over his pointed shoes. If I could've, I'd have bolted out into the halls of the palace and straight out the front doors. Running for my life had never sounded more appealing.

But the queen's magic brand wrapped my ankle like a jagged red tattoo, and even now I felt it burning against my skin. She'd promised me, when she enchanted me two years ago, that if I ever tried to escape, it would punish me. And Aubrey had stood beside her, smiling because I could never leave him.

“You look faint, my love,” Aubrey said, stepping up close to me. “Come to dinner tonight. Sit at my side and display your beauty to all the court.”

“I'm not hungry,” I said, and it was true. I was never hungry, and after the horrible news he’d just dropped on me, I might never be hungry again. If I accompanied Aubrey to the Great Hall, where the nobility gathered over feasts of roast beef and fish and fresh fruit, I would only sit uneating in front of plenty, just like all the dead who wanted to pretend that they were still alive. Aubrey couldn't eat, being nothing but bones. I had a stomach and all the equipment needed, but I'd lost my appetite with my family, and now that he’d threatened to impregnate me, it was doubly gone.

He took my hand and kissed it again. “Very well. I will send your maids in to tend to you. But after dinner, I will come fetch you. Queen Idony wishes to speak with you.”

My stomach dropped, and I tore my hand out of his. “What? Why? I haven't done anything wrong.”

He patted my cheek, and his bones were so cold that surely they'd never belonged to a living man. “Fear not, Elise. She doesn't want to punish you. She merely wishes to tell you your new duties in the days ahead.”

“Duties? What duties?” Dread constricted my throat. Duties, whatever they were, would take me away from my rooms and safety. They'd put me in the eyes of the living nobles, and all of them hated me. Not because I was a peasant pretending to be one of them. Because it was my fault they had to bow to a dead queen. I didn't blame them. I hated me too.

Aubrey beamed at me. “Great events are on the horizon. Do you remember that the queen made overtures to our wealthy neighbor to the west?”

Only one county bordered Sweelough to the west. “Ahheleisa. But you said nothing would come of it. That the living were too superstitious to see a gift when the queen offered it.”

He waved a hand. “The living are cretins. But in this case, I was wrong.”

“I’m still alive, Aubrey,” I reminded him. For now. Every other night, I woke from nightmares that the queen had stripped me down to nothing but a ghost and dry old bones.

“Yes, yes. That doesn't matter. We have news now that an ambassador and his party are coming here to Asteraxe. In fact, they are nearly upon us. And so Queen Idony has plans for you. But she’ll tell you the details tonight, I am sure.” He patted my leg through my layers of skirts and petticoats. “Now, promise me you'll eat something.”

“I'll eat something,” I lied. But after he'd left and sent my maids in to check on me, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. Thoughts kept sneaking in of a dead man's touch and a dead man's children, and I had no peace at all.

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

How I DIDN'T Become a Villain

A Masterlist

This is a (mostly) comprehensive list of all the posts I've made about my dpxdc fic. I'll add any new story info i share on my blog here. Feel free to subscribe to this post if you want to check for updates :>

World Dumps:

Lore i - Infinite Realms

Lore ii - Infinite Realms

Who is Pariah Dark

Lore iii - the GIW (coming soon)

How To, a Summoning Guide (coming soon)

Story Hints/Process:

How it Started

Lore begun

the Title

the Diner

AU Curses 1, 2

little announcement after Months of Silence

Danny Curses

What's this damn Fic even about?

Pariah Dark has lore (woah)

Official Updates:

#1 Chapter length and briefest summary

#2 Chapter lengths adjusted and upload announcement

Chap 1, The Yawning Grave uploaded! (08/11/2024)

Chap 2, I’m Still Here uploaded! (08/25/2024)

Upload Announcement, Important

Chap 3, The Suburbs uploaded! (09/15/2024)

IMPORTANT - Holiday Hiatus

Extension...

Currently editing!

HIDBV Teasers:

Chap. 1, The Yawning Grave

Chap. 2, I'm Still Here

Chap. 4, In the Room Where You Sleep

Chap. 5, Pa Pa Power

Chap. 6, Sickly Suite Part Three: Gone

Chap. 8, Young and Tragic

[bryan360]

“🦝🤝👮‍♀️The Gathering”

🐰👊💥May: We thought we’re taking these “robbers” into custody instead of joining us to the party. As we’d mentioned, we’re not actually taking it seriously. I know they didn’t stealing sweets from the convenience store at night. Though I’d be careful in real life if I were you. 😯☝️

🦝⚾️😴Stripes: Yeah, *YAWN* we’re very honest. I’d pay very well so I can give to my parents for our Hallowwen plannings. You know, give children some treats from our doors. I mean we deserved some treats too since we'd behave like good people; something like that.

🐰👊💥May: Well having a "almost" Halloween party is better. Besides, we had some sweets as our partners holding. Chocolate is indeed the number one for all Halloween fans out there! 🍫

🦝⚾️😴Stripes: Mhm! now let's say we can get into some boogie dance for fun, May. I may be a bit tired, but I'm still your nocturnal friend! 😁👍

🐰👊💥May: I know, Stripes. Just hope we don't party too hard after this year's 🎃Halloween is over. 😅

Stripes (as Sly Cooper) and May (as a police rabbit officer like Judy Hopps from Zootopia) created by me; BryanVelasquez87 (Bryan360)

Nacho (as Rocket Raccoon from Guardians of the Galaxy) - The Loud House (2016-present) ©️Nickelodeon

Hoppy Hopscotch (as same as her) - Poppy Playtime Chapter 3 ©️Mob Entertainment, Inc.

Previously: ⬇️

“⬛️⬜️🪦The Grave” - Link Here #1

“🦝🦝The Raccoons” - Link Here #2

“🐿️💕❄️The Climbers” -Link Here #3

“🐱🎸🐶 The Guitarist” - Link Here #4

“🐰👮The Cops” - Link Here #5

“🐶🏴‍☠️👑The Joy” - Link Here #6

“🦔🦊💍The Rings” - Link Here #7

“🦦🐟The Fish” - Link Here #8

“🐱👢🌙 The Cuteness” - Link Here #9

“🎧🦨 The Beats” - Link Here #10

“🔴🐼🐶 The Dogs” - Link Here #11

”🐿️🐰🎸The Band” - Link Here #12

“🦊🔵 The Tallest” - Link Here #13

“🌳😟 The Hunted” - Link Here #14

“🤗❤️ The Hugging” - Link Here #15

“🐭🐩🎞️The Classics” - Link Here #16

“🐷🍫The Chase” - Link Here #17

“🎈🦫The Drifting” - Link Here #18

“🕵️👧🏻The Spies” - Link Here #19

“🐑📖👨‍⚕️The Member” - Link Here #20

“🐰🦄🦁The Painters” - Link Here #21

“🐔🥚🐰The Egg” - Link Here #22

“🦸‍♀️🦇The Heroes” - Link Here #23

“🎪🖥️The Circus” - Link Here #24

Tagged: @murumokirby360 @shadowredfeline @alexander1301 @sammirthebear2k4

[snow-flake-writes]

Summary: Reina Itadori, older sister to Yuji Itadori, had been abroad overseas to study and finish her college courses. However, her life turns upside down when she finds an old book related to Jujutsu Sorcery in her old college library. Having to find a new topic for her essay to make up for a failed grade, she decided that the book had one of the most unique topics to learn about. Using the book to find anyone related to the so-called sorcerers named in the book, she’s able to find one particular person. Although that one person refuses to give her any information related to the book, he had no choice but to take her in when Reina is suddenly forced to be a vessel for a powerful curse.

Three years later, Reina is a fully trained Special Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer. When she finally gets to go home and take care of her younger brother, Yuji, many emotions ensue. Not only does she find out her worst fear has come true, but her little brother has become a vessel for a curse, as well. Determined to save his life from the elder sorcerers and from the curse, Sukuna, she decides to be a substitute teacher at the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Full Story Warnings: Typical Jujutsu Kaisen gore/violence, cussing, trauma, pain, hurt/comfort, fluff, romance, slow-burn, fighting, action, adventure.

[DISCLAIMER]: I do not own Jujutsu Kaisen. It belongs to its rightful owner, Gege Akutami. The main characters belong to Gege Akutami. Extra characters, my OCs, belong to me. Most of the plot belongs to me, but a lot of it will also be based off of the main show plot.

All art belongs to me unless said otherwise. Title picture at the very top was made on canva, pictures used do not belong to me and are from Pinterest. Drawings below it are mine. Reina Itadori(left) and Garou Wilahj(right).

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Chapter 1

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was it really him? The legendary sorcerer she read about in a thousand-year-old history book? It might’ve taken her about two months to find the man, but she can’t help but feel disappointed. And, well, she can’t deny that he’s only a descendant of the legendary man in the book that was held in her hands.

To her surprise, though, he looked exactly like the man in the book. A tall, tired-looking man stood at the entrance of his small home. His shoulders were slumped as he looked at Riena tiredly, holding the door open to see who was knocking on it. His black disheveled hair matched his baggy clothes. An oversized gray long-sleeve shirt covered his torso, and a pair of black sweats covered his legs. It looked like he had just woken up.

Reina couldn’t help but stare at the unkempt stubble covering his chin and upper lip. She couldn’t tell if the guy was hot or disgusting.

“Who are you?” His voice was deep—gravely, almost.

Returning to reality and silently apologizing for being rude, the black-haired woman bows quickly. “Good evening. I’m Itadori Reina, and I’m here to ask you a few questions about Jujutsu Sorcery.”

The man before her didn’t seem to have a reaction. Maybe besides his eyebrows knitting together in concentration. “Is that it?”

Reina looks at him in question, nodding slowly in reply, “Uh…yes?”

He scoffs, tiredly turning and leaving the door open. Reina noticed his hair was tied up in a high bun. She then takes his leaving the door open as an opportunity to enter, stepping inside his small home and closing the door behind her. “Thank you. You see, I found this book in my school’s library, and it talks all about Jujutsu Sorcerers and the ability to exercise curses. I was trying to look for any descendants of the legendary sorcerers listed here but only found you to be alive.”

The man yawns, gently taking the book from her hands to look at it. “They have this there? Just in a random location so everyone can see?” he mumbles to himself, looking through the old pages, “so that’s how you know. You didn’t look like a sorcerer. Not to mention low Cursed Energy.”

“Huh?” Reina cocks her head, “I’m sorry? Cursed Energy?’

“Ah, yeah. That’s my great, great, great, great….and so on, grandfather,” he ignores her question. The book is tossed to the side, causing the girl to run after it and catch it just in time. “Great reflexes…”

“Please be careful! This book is very old…” she says worriedly, checking the book to make sure it is still in good condition. “Um…so it's true? You’re a descendent of this man,” Her eyes scan through the pages, finding the man on a particular page, “Wilahj Matsuyama?”

“That’s right,” A hint of pride was heard behind his words, “The name’s Wilahj Garou.”

Reina wasn’t one for much excitement, but she could feel the buzz rising in her system. She could almost feel her body go light at the fact that she finally found who she was looking for. After all, this is her last chance of finishing this project that her professor assigned her to do.

Freshman year in college had just ended, but she somehow failed her history class, her most favorite subject. Her professor was kind enough to give her a second chance and allowed her to write one paper about something unique and unknown. If she did that during the summer, then he’d allow her to pass his class.

“Then…can I ask you some questions about Jujutsu Sorcerers? It’s for a paper I'm working on for my class.” It took her a month or so to find a descendant of the people in the book, so she felt quite relieved finding Garou.

Her happiness flew out the door as soon as the man narrowed his green eyes, a sharp glare sent her way. “No. Get out.”

Reina felt her body stiffen at the abrupt words. Anger starts to brew under her skin. “W-what…?” Her shoulders sag. She couldn’t believe the words he just spewed out of his mouth. His eyes weren’t full of anger, but distrust and protectiveness. “But,” she pauses, taking a step forward in slight desperation, “It took me forever to find you! I just – I just need some answers and then I’ll be on my way!”

He didn’t even let her finish her words as he turned his back to her, facing away. “I said no.”

“But…!”

Her words are choked back when Garou turns around quickly. She flinched at the slight aggression she detected from him. “You can’t see them, right?”

Reina pauses. See them? Why ask such a question all of a sudden? Out of nowhere, nonetheless. She didn’t know how to answer, nor did she understand what he was talking about. Before she answers, she swallows down the nervousness trying to take over. “Um…no…I don’t understand. What do you mean by them?”

A vague but disappointed scoff leaves his lips. “Then I suggest you leave. I wouldn’t want to pull you into something you don’t understand.” He said, turning away and walking toward a door in his home. She watched him in disbelief, not sure what to do or say, before finally gathering her things and leaving.

There was no point in pressuring the man even more. It was obvious he wouldn't let up and give her a chance. It looked like she wasted all of her hard work on nothing, and she'll have to restart her paper.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆

She saw him in the alley—skinny, hunched, smoking—and she realized he was more scared than her. A man she had never seen before in her life stood in the dark alleyway, the lights flickering above him. For some odd reason…she stood there, just looking down that alleyway. No, she wasn’t looking at the man; she was looking at what was behind the man.

An ungodly creature almost as high as the tall building lurked over him. Its many eyes—that Reina couldn’t even count— were splayed out over its body, and what looked like six arms were hovering over the man. The creature's body looked like a giant pile of some kind of purple goop.

The man who noticed me staring in his direction was going to say something, but he felt something on his shoulder. Reina saw the creature resting a goopy hand on his shoulder, practically enveloping his body. He looked back, seeing who had touched him, but it looked like he didn’t see anything.

“What the hell-” he first grumbles.

But his body was gone in seconds, slurped up into the mouth of the creature. It screeched in delight, causing Reina to flinch at its abrupt noise. The bag containing purchased items from earlier is soon forgotten when she drops it, sprinting down the street and away from the creature.

“Wh-what the hell?!” She steals the eaten man's words.

She could hear —feel— it chasing after her. Its giant body thumps on the ground close behind. To her dismay, her foot catches on an uneven stone from the ground, causing her to fall face-first into the ground. She just knew that looking back at her attacker wouldn’t do a damn thing. She wouldn’t even have time to look.

But those thoughts were soon washed away when she noticed she was still alive, and the thumping of its goopy feet had been silenced. Slowly, Reina rolls her body over to her side, looking to see if the creature has decided to let her live.

Instead, a crouched man with a familiar head of black hair tied in a bun stands between her and the creature. Well…what was left of the creature. Its purple body parts were sprawled everywhere like a giant murder scene had just occurred.

“What a pain…” Garou grumbles, standing up straight and flicking his weapon to the side to clean it off.

Reina didn’t even notice the weapon in his hands. A long wooden spear—taller than him—was placed on his back diagonally, with the blade over his shoulder. The blade had some kind of teardrop shape, with a handful of fur surrounding its base. Finally, a string covered in beads hung loose under the fur, with a red feather sticking out of it at the end.

Reina scrambles to stand up, approaching the man from behind. “M-Mr. Wilahj…?”

He looks at her, tired eyes slowly blinking. “Hm? Oh, it’s you. I thought you had already left.”

The nerve of him speaking such words irked the hell out of Reina. She growled out inconsistent words from irritation, wanting to yell about how he declined to tell her anything about Jujutsu Sorcerers. But before she could argue with him, the purple body parts behind Garou started to move, forming a giant goopy ball.

“Th-the creature!” She warns him.

He turns back quickly, whipping out his spear-like weapon from his back. He forms a fighting stance, preparing himself for another battle. “Well, that’s odd. I wondered why it didn’t fade away…”

“What?! It’s supposed to fade away?” She cries out, cowering behind him for protection.

All she saw was his long glance towards her, his dark green eyes staring into her soul before he jumped forward to attack the creature. He was skilled, she realized. He went straight in with no fear, no hesitation…

Is this what all Jujutsu Sorcerers are like?

Like before, the body parts are spread over the street once more from just one swing of his weapon. He lands back in front of her, watching the creature. “This is no normal curse,” he says to himself, “who's behind this…?”

“Man,” a new voice breaks his train of thought. On the other side of the exploded body stood two people. One was taller than the other, but they had blond hair styled as a bob. While the other was hunched over as an old man. “Who knew we’d bring out a Jujutsu Sorcerer? Father…? I thought you said there were none nearby?”

The tall figure spoke, which sounded like a boy. His voice was light and playful, a wide smile on his face. “He is to be ignored, dear Okkaku. The girl is who we need.”

“Huh?!” Reina gasps, pointing at herself, “Me?”

“What do you need her for?” Garou asks calmly.

The old man smirks as he raises his head, “Just an experiment. She is the perfect candidate.”

Reina could feel her body shiver in fear. Never has she felt this way before. Two men were looking for her, of all people, for some experiment. She technically just got to this country, trying to find the man standing right before her. Should she run? Grab her things from the hotel and get out of this country?

No, she scolds herself, there's no time to grab my things.

“Hey,” Garou’s voice brings her back to reality. Reina hums nervously in acknowledgment. “Run.”

She didn’t even hesitate after hearing his demand. She turns and runs as fast as her legs can go. Her mind wouldn’t allow her to think. It was a fight-or-flight situation, and clearly, she didn’t know how to fight. No matter how many times she prayed to escape, fate didn’t seem to be on her side. Without knowing how, the blond man from earlier is suddenly in front of her. Her feet skid to a halt on the stone street, her body frozen. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

“I suggest,” he’s closer, one hand gripping tightly onto her throat. He forces her to look up, pain shooting up her neck from the assault, “You stay still.”

Fingers prod her mouth open, and something is pushing past her tongue and down her throat. It was large. Painfully large. Tears spilled from her eyes as she cried in agony, whimpers escaping her now-damaged throat.

Before Reina could comprehend what was happening, the blond man had been shoved aside, his hand leaving her neck and allowing her to fall to her knees. She coughs and hacks, gasping for air as the object forced down her throat is still slowly traveling down her pipe.

As she struggles to breathe, Reina's mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. Panic sets in as she realizes the gravity of the danger she is in. The object lodged in her throat feels foreign and invasive, causing her immense discomfort. Every breath becomes a painful struggle, her chest heaving as she desperately tries to draw in air.

Her vision blurs as tears well up in her eyes, a mixture of fear and pain overwhelming her senses. With each passing moment, the object moves further down her throat, intensifying the sensation of choking. Reina's body convulses as she tries to expel the obstruction, but her attempts are futile.

“Are you alright?!” Garou asks worriedly, standing before her in a protective manner. He’s frustrated he didn’t even see the man leave his sight. “What did you do?” His focus was now on the blond man. To his surprise, the old man was now by his side.

“It is done. Let…her…rise!” The blond proclaims, arms raised as if praying for the gods above.

All Reina could hear was the loud thumping of her heart echoing through her head. The sound reverberated, drowning out all other noise. With each beat, the pain intensified, pulsating through her skull like a relentless drum. It felt as if her head was about to burst, the pressure building up to an unbearable point.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Reina's vision blurred, her surroundings fading into a foggy haze. The pain, excruciating as it was, suddenly vanished without a trace. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and her agony was replaced by an eerie calmness.

As her eyes rolled to the back of her head, darkness engulfed her field of vision. The world around her dissolved into a void, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable. In this abyss, she felt a profound sense of detachment from reality, as if she had been transported to another realm.

Garou's gaze was fixed upon Reina's lifeless form, a mixture of concern and astonishment evident on his face. The intricate details of the situation eluded him, leaving him in a state of perplexity. The only certainty was that the pair of men standing behind him bore the responsibility for the unfortunate demise of the woman before him. The realization struck him deeply, accompanied by a tinge of regret. She possessed a remarkable potential, a potential that now lay extinguished. Reflecting on the tragedy that had unfolded, Garou couldn't help but think to himself, "Too bad... she had so much promise."

When he believed the woman had perished, all thoughts vanished as a formidable surge of cursed energy reverberated through the street. Though his body remained rooted, he sensed an intense weight pressing down upon his head and shoulders. Every fiber of his being grew unbearably heavy, rendering him immobile and incapable of escaping his position.

“This power...!” Garou's heart raced with a mix of terror and fascination. He had never experienced such overwhelming fear before. Paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the moment, he didn't even attempt to move as he observed Reina's transformation. It was as if a completely different entity had taken possession of her body. The once gentle and warm light brown eyes now glowed with a malevolent shade of red. Reina's gaze, once filled with affection and kindness, now held only boredom as she coldly stared at the two men standing beside Garou. In those dangerous crimson irises, he saw a glimpse of death and fury, a terrifying power that sent shivers down his spine.

Two black, long, and straight horns start to grow from behind her black bangs, growing about twelve inches above her head. These striking appendages emerge gracefully, adding an air of mystique to her appearance. Their ebony color contrasts sharply against her fair complexion, making them impossible to ignore.

As her horns reach their full length, their slender curves give them an elegant and formidable presence. They stand tall and proud, serving as a visual representation of her unique identity. The horns' smooth texture and velvety sheen reflect the light, enhancing their allure.

Her body is slightly hunched, as if she carries the weight of her extraordinary features with a mixture of grace and solemnity. A dark shade covers her eyes, veiling them from view.

“Yes!” The blond chants, struggling to take a few steps closer from the pressure of her cursed energy. “The Princess of Curses…please, heed my request-”

The man's last sentence hung in the air, unfinished and lost forever. His head, detached from his body, plummeted to the cold, unforgiving stone ground. The sickening thud echoed through the eerie silence, sending a shiver down Garou's spine.

Garou, a seasoned witness to countless horrors and grim situations, was taken aback by the suddenness of this gruesome event. Though he had become accustomed to the macabre and the grotesque in his line of work, he never anticipated such a horrifying scene unfolding before his eyes. The shock of the man's beheading left him momentarily paralyzed, his thoughts racing to comprehend the grotesque reality that had unfolded.

As the seconds ticked by, Garou's mind began to process the scene before him. The man's body slumped lifelessly, blood pooling around his severed neck. The weight of the moment pressed upon Garou's chest, his breath caught in his lungs as he struggled to maintain composure. The gruesome sight was etched into his memory, an indelible mark that would haunt him long after this fateful encounter.

Regaining his senses, Garou's heart pounds in his chest as he tightly grips his weapon, his knuckles turning white. The weight of it brings him a sense of reassurance and purpose. His eyes narrow, scanning the scene before him. The sight is horrifying, but he knows he cannot afford to be paralyzed by fear. The enemy is formidable, and if he hesitates for even a moment, it could cost him his life.

“Son!” The old man cried out but stayed put in his spot a few feet away. The sight of his son's demise almost brought him to his knees. The distraught in his eyes told of his love for his son.

"Who dares..." The voice Reina spoke with did nothing to copy her original tone. It was smooth, dark, and filled with hatred. "...to wake me?"

Reina's question hung in the air, echoing in the silence of the street. Her voice, once soft and gentle, now carried a menacing edge. The venom in her words was palpable, as if every syllable was laced with anger and malice.

“P-please! We were requested to revive you, to help us-” The old man, too, had the same fate as his son. Widened eyes stared back at Garou when the old man's head rolled to his feet. Garou made a sound of disgust at the sight.

"I help no one," she breathes darkly, straightening her body. Her voice carries a hint of menace, as if she holds power beyond comprehension. Standing tall and radiating confidence, she exudes an air of regality, like a true princess of darkness. Her piercing red eyes scan the area, their intensity causing a shiver to run down the spine of anyone unlucky enough to meet her gaze.

As her gaze lands on Garou, her expression hardens even further. "Another one?" she sneers, her voice dripping with disdain. "You shall receive the same fate as the other imbeciles who dared cross my path." Her words hang in the air, heavy with a promise of impending doom. Those who have witnessed her wrath know that her threats are not to be taken lightly.

She raises her arm, crossing over her chest as she glares down at her target. The determination in her eyes is palpable as she prepares to strike. Her arm swings halfway before she freezes, her red eyes widening out of nowhere. A sudden wave of confusion washes over her as she tries to comprehend what she is seeing. Her body trembles and she instinctively folds herself in, hugging her chest tightly. The sense of disbelief and shock is evident in her voice as she exclaims, "What... is this?!"

She gasps for air, her lungs desperately craving oxygen. Her knees give way, forcing her to collapse onto the unforgiving ground. Her head hangs down, heavy with exhaustion, as she struggles to catch her breath. In this moment of vulnerability, her cursed energy, which had been relentlessly tormenting her, suddenly dissipates. Garou, who had been observing her with a mix of concern and disbelief, is taken aback by the sudden transformation. He wonders if she has finally succumbed to the darkness completely. However, his assumption is once again proven wrong. Just as he is about to accept her fate, a sudden jolt runs through Reina's body. Gasping for air, she inhales sharply, her lungs burning with the effort.

Garou, in a moment of realization, observes that the once prominent horns on her forehead have vanished, leaving behind only smooth skin. Additionally, the intense redness that used to consume her eyes has also dissipated, restoring them back to their original state. It is clear to him that the princess of darkness has vanished completely.

“O-Oh, my god!” Reina gasped in shock, her hand instinctively clenching her throat as if trying to catch her breath. The unexpected turn of events left her bewildered and speechless. She couldn't comprehend what had just happened, and her mind was filled with a mix of fear and confusion. “What the hell…just happened?!”

Meanwhile, Garou, who had witnessed the sudden incident, hesitated before deciding to approach Reina. He knew that the situation called for immediate action, and he braced himself, assuming a determined stance. Garou was prepared to perform a proper exorcism to combat whatever force had caused such distress to Reina.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Garou focused his energy, ready to face the unknown and protect Reina from any further harm. He knew that the fate of both their lives hung in the balance, and he was determined to rid them of this supernatural threat.

As he neared Reina, Garou could see the fear in her eyes, but he remained resolute. He had trained extensively for moments like these, and he was determined to use his skills to restore peace and safety to their lives.

Reina's gaze lifted, and her eyes grew wider as she caught sight of Garou. Relief flooded over her as she exclaimed, "You're okay! Thank goodness... so... I did stop her in time..." Her voice trembled slightly, a mix of worry and gratitude evident in her words. In that moment, she realized the immense weight that had been lifted off her shoulders. Her actions had made a difference, and she had managed to prevent something terrible from happening.

Garou stood frozen, his body tense as he processed the words that had just been spoken. His head cocked to the side, a silent question forming in his eyes. The weight of her statement hung in the air, filling the space between them with an unspoken truth.

"You...saw everything?" he finally managed to utter, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and disbelief. The words hung in the air, waiting for her response. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon him, as he struggled to comprehend the implications of her words.

She stops herself from getting up, her body frozen in place. Her mind was all over the place, racing with thoughts and emotions. The area felt heavy, the air thick with tension. She now realized his position, standing tall and rigid, watching her with eyes that had hardened in distrust. The realization sent a shiver down her spine.

Fear consumed her, making her heart race and her breaths come out in shallow pants. She didn't know what to feel, her thoughts jumbled and chaotic. Was he... going to kill her? The thought sent a wave of panic through her, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

A sense of impending doom hung in the air, intensifying her anxiety. A panic attack slowly crept upon her, the world around her becoming a blur. She desperately tried to calm herself, to rationalize the situation, but her mind was clouded with fear and confusion.

Everything seemed surreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Something had been forced down her throat just minutes earlier, a memory that haunted her. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the words caught in her throat.

Remarkably, she controls herself to focus on the answer to his question. “I…I did…But I couldn’t control my body….”

Garou somehow felt empathy toward the young woman. She came to him, not knowing exactly what Jujutsu Sorcery was besides what she read from a one-thousand-year-old history book. He refused to tell her anything about it because she could not fight curses. If she knew anything more, then she’d be involved in dangerous situations…..like this.

“So much for that,” he sighs, relaxing his posture and putting his spear weapon back in its place on his back.

“What?” Reina tearfully asks. She didn’t realize she was crying until his words snapped her back to reality. “Are you going to kill me?”

Garou approached her, holding out his hand for her to take. “No, I’m not going to kill you. Because of your…power,” he pauses, his green eyes looking her up and down in observation, “I can help you control it. After all….you saved my life.”

His smile sent her heart to beat wildly. She takes his hand, standing in seconds by his abrupt strength. “I…did?” She questions, watching him start to walk away.

A deep chuckle leaves his lips, his head turning to glance back at her. But he doesn’t say a word, continuing on his way home. Reina shakes her head, focusing back on the situation at hand. She jogs forward to Garou, following close behind. “So…does that mean I get to live with you? Since, you know, you’re going to train me or whatever?”

“Hell no.”

[thewrongsandwichgamer]

The spider takes back his web(Overlord!Angel Dust origin story!)

Chapter 1: A day in the afterlife

Ao3

Consciousness slowly returned to Alastor like that of a light sprinkle of rain turning to a steady downpour; growing slowly and becoming more attention grabbing. He began to mumble to himself in slurred Cajun French as he was roused from his dreamless sleep. His eyes opened slowly and his irises pulsed with crimson light. Crackling noises of a radio switching channels while struggling to find signal emitted from him, his mind muddled with the kind of early morning grog that your mind was filled with after you had just had a rather awful sleep.

He sat up from his bed with all the liveliness of a corpse rising from the grave, his ears pressed close to his skull. He took in the blurry shapes of his bedroom, his vision unclear with a combination of his eyes having not focused after he woke up yet as well as his lack of monocle and frowned distastefully. He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere without the thing though he could feel the phantom of a headache that tended to come along with wearing it. He then felt a familiar wetness on his jaw and his frown deepened. He lifted an ash black, clawed hand and wiped away the trail of drool trickling down his chin. He always hated that he drooled in his sleep and even more so that the habit followed him into the afterlife but Alastor found there was unfortunately nothing he could do about it.

Just then his stomach let out an almighty growl, making its emptiness known. Alastor huffed. He supposed he best stop procrastinating.  He lifted his arms over his head and stretched until his joints gave an audible-and most likely consurning to others- crack. He sighed in satisfaction at this before he turned and lifted his blanket and sheet off his lap and turned to place his legs over the edge of his bed. The cold hard wood floors of his bedroom torched his sensitive hooves and caused an unpleasant shiver to run up his spine. Alastor cracked in annoyance. He reached for his bedside table and retrieved his monocle from the tabletop, placing it on his face and blinking as the blurred shades of red became clear.

He stood with a sharp toothed yawn and snapped his fingers. A silk robe appeared tied around his waist before he turned and trudged out of his bedroom and began to make the journey to his kitchen, static surrounding him and shadows trailing after him.

-

The throbbing of Angel's head served as his alarm, rousing him from sleep with sharp pulses of pain. When he opened his eyes the agony only increased as a large beam of sunlight shone through the window. He flinched and rolled over to try to mash his face into his pillow to block the light, only to roll off the edge of the bed. He hit the ground and hissed in pain, his body ached making its soreness known. He stood shakily, his head spinning and stomach lurching. Angel groaned. Another Saturday. He thought. All of his limbs feeling heavy he trudged to the window. He had to shield his eyes as he approached to keep his headache at a manageable level. Finally, he yanked the curtains closed and sighed in relief as the room was plunged into darkness, turned and took in his surroundings. Loud red and purple, zebra patterns on the room's walls, decorations and even the bed. Geometric shaped furniture was spread throughout the room, a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Strewn along the floor were clothes that Angel recognized as his own, various sex toys and bodily fluids. He recognized the room immediately. His pimp Valentino's bedroom.

As Angel walked across the room to the pile of his discarded clothes on the floor he tried to put the pieces of last night together. After the launch of his latest movie Valentino was in a partying mood and, as such, dragged his entire crew, including Angel, along to the newest bar in town to celebrate. Angel winced as he lifted up his outfit from last night, his effort to jog his memory causing his headache to worsen. The outfit was a rather tight strapless dress made of leather with a high skirt line and a low neckline. He remembered that he didn't really like this dress; leather and fur didn't usually mix well and Angel didn't like sweating very much. He didn't mind it when he could take a shower soon after. But that wasn't the case last night. Immediately after the party Val had dragged him into his room to have a little ‘fun’. Angel looked over the rips and one particular large gash right through the side that Valentino had made in his drunken arousal. Angel knew better than to wince when the moth nicked him in the process. He looked down and saw blood caked onto his fur. He thought the gashes were worth it now that the dress was essentially torn to ribbons, maybe now Val would just throw it out.

He sighed and bent down to pick up his black sheer stockings, pulling them on immediately, neglecting to dress himself any further now that the part of his body he was most concerned with was covered. He then noticed his hellphone lying on the ground, and picked it up. Typing in his passcode he took notice of his messages. All from Valentino.

Val: hEy angelcakes hag a meting to git to u now what to do

Val: alsO dont forgit to cleen up after yorself

Angel sighed again and set a quick text to Cherri before getting to cleaning the room.

-

As Alastor strode through the long hallways of his radio tower his hooves clacked along the floors and his ears twitched in response. He knew that seeing as I’d had been quite some time since he had clipped or smoothed his hooves he was most likely leaving scratches in the linoleum in his wake but he couldn't find the energy nor concern to even turn around to check and simply continued walking.

He made it to his kitchen and made a beeline for his refrigerator. He opened it sluggishly and pulled out the first chunk of meat he could get his hands on. He peeled the plastic wrap half way down like the wrapper of a candy bar and shoved the unwrapped half into his mouth, he proceeded to gnaw on it as he walked into his dining room. However, instead of taking his usual seat at the head of the table he wandered about the room as he chewed on his breakfast. The ceilings of his manor felt especially tall today, the air especially cold. It made his fur stand on end and a shiver traveled up his spine. He grimaced and began to tap his foot. The ‘taptaptap’ grew louder and more rapid as it went on until he stamped his hoof on the floor with a frustrated growl.

“Why in the nine circles of hell is it so frigid in here!?” He groused. “ Really , this is hell for goodness sakes, how is it remotely cold anywhere ?” He most certainly did not stomp out of his dining room like a child. He was a dignified grown man and he walked as such. He did however throw the cut of shredded, random meat into the trash bin as he left. Seemed he had lost his appetite. Again.

-

After he'd taken care of the mess in Val's room Angel grabbed one of his robes and walked out of the penthouse and to the elevator, taking it down to the bottom floor. As he walked out of the doors of Vee tower he spotted a car parked directly in front of the building. It was rusty and beaten up, with quite a few dents but the engine seemed to still be running. In a flash of orange, white and pink Cherri Bomb leaned-perhaps a bit dangerously- out the window and waved him down. "Yo, Angie!" She shouted despite the fact that she was only about eight feet away from him, her singular eye bright.

Angel smiled, instantly feeling his mood lighten and ran up to the car, getting in and closing the door immediately. He grinned at his bestie. "Hey Suga’ tits, thanks for comin' so early in the mornin'." He said.

"'Course, Bitch, you know I'd do anything for you." She handed him a duffle bag. "Here ya go. Even managed to find some of your shoes under my bed!"

Angel sighed. "You're the best." He said taking the bag and beginning to climb into the back seat to change.

"I know."

Angel rolled his eyes, though with a grin. He sat in the back seat and unzipped the bag as Cherri started the car and began to drive off.

"By the way, Babe, since when do ya got a car? I was just gonna change in an alley or something."

"Oh, this ain't my car."

"...Then who's is it?"

"FUCK IF I KNOW!"

Angel burst out laughing.

-

Alastor huffed as he flipped the page in his book. He kicked out his hoof in a sudden fit of restlessness. He tried to ignore it and simply focus on reading his book but found that he wasn’t all that interested in it considering he had read this particular book at least seventy five times over. A growl erupted from the back of Alastor’s throat. He flopped over to lay horizontally across the arms of his chair. He stared up into the tall ceiling of his library, the balconies that lined the walls of shelves filled with books he knew no worse than the one on his hands. He knew he wouldn't find anything attention catching in this room today, he knew. But he also knew that out the doors of said room were long halls that he knew like the back of his hand that lead to more rooms that held nothing new nor free of the droning dull pang that seemed to follow him everywhere lately. 

Perhaps a change of scenery was in order. But where to go? He hadn't heard from Mimzy in quite some time and concerningly enough he found the idea of hunting right now to feel more like a chore he should put off for as long as possible. He supposed he could pay a visit to Rosie however he knew that today Rosie's emporium was open and if her beloved shop was as busy as it always was that meant it would be rather crowded and his personal space bubble felt especially large and fragile today.

The question was: would possibly popping that bubble be better or worse than staying in his large, empty estate?

-

Angel slumped into the dirty booth of the restaurant he and Cherri drove to. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose to try to soothe his headache. "Fuck, Cherri, I feel like I got run over by fifteen semi trucks." He slurred. As Cherri sat down opposite of him he amended himself, however. "Actually, scratch that. Getting hit with fifteen semi trucks would be way more enjoyable."

"Damn. Sure you don't need some booze?" Cherri asked, kicking her feet up on the table.

Angel wrenched at the mere thought of alcohol and quickly swallowed the bile that rose in his throat before shaking his head. "Cherri, all I need right now is something greasy to eat and something with way too much sugar to wash it down." Cherri nodded. "Got it. Anything specific?" Angel waved his hand and rested his chin on his folded forearms. "You know what I like." He yawned. 

Cherri nodded again and when the waiter came up she took up ordering while Angel looked out the window. Last night was the worst. Well maybe not the worst , Angel would probably put it at an 8.5, between that time he woke up taped to the ceiling of the studio and the time his co-workers encased him in Jello while he was blacked out. Both were a nightmare on his fur like last night was sure to be. Pretty fucked up that Angel had a scale, he knew, but what were you gonna do? Things never got better, just less worse. It just made Angel appreciate the little things. Sure his back was sore as fuck but at least he was positive he hadn't broken any bones.

He plucked at a loose thread on the collar of Cherri's old band tee he was wearing. Out the window he saw an imp couple strolling down the street, their intertwined hands swinging between them as they talked. The girl laughed at something the man whispered to her and Angel's heart ached. Not for the first time he wondered what it would be like to have someone like that. To have someone to talk with, someone who would hold him, make him feel safe, understood, wanted.

Once upon a time he thought he had that but…

Angel shook his head. He was being ridiculous. He was a whore for crying out loud! The whore never found love. They were always who the guy hooked up with before they found some sweet, perfect, good girl and rode off into the sunset. 

A whore was destined for a quick fuck not a happily ever after.

 He felt a tap on his shoulder that pulled him out of his stewing thoughts. He lifted his head up and was greeted by the sight of his best friend, giving him a gentle smile and gesturing to the tray now sitting on their table, laden with their food.

-

Alastor entered Cannibal town, greeting demons as he went. He gave a contented sigh. Yes, he liked that most demons were terrified of him but it was nice that the residents of cannibal town weren't, especially since they understood him and they were all so friendly! As he went he spotted some ladies crouched on the sidewalk tearing into a carcass of what appeared to be a bull demon. “My, my, what a nice catch! Congratulations ladies!” He complimented as he passed.

“Oh, Alastor, I didn’t know you were coming to town today!” A young lady in a sky blue lace dress exclaimed, taking care to even swallow before she spoke. “Oh, it’s quite a surprise for me as well, Jenny! But I feel like being out and about today!” Alastor replied over his shoulder. 

“Well, if you’re heading to Rosie’s I feel I should tell you that the emporium is just swamped today.” Another young demon, in a pink dress, told him. Alastor waved his hand. “Oh, all the more reason for me to visit, surely she could use the extra hands!” He continued down the sidewalk, waving his hand to summon his cane and giving it a twirl.

“You ladies enjoy your breakfast!”

-

Angel and Cherri walked down the street together, the latter telling him about some schmuck she had to kick in the balls while Angel tried-and failed- to listen.

“And so the guy says ‘You have no idea who you’re messing with ' like, he really thought he was hot shit, can you believe that?”

“Uh huh, yeah, crazy…” Did Angel feel bad that he wasn't giving his best friend his full attention? Absolutely. But he just found it hard to focus today. His head was pounding and his thoughts wouldn't stop going back to last night. How sweaty and uncomfortable that dress was, how the crowd seemed to close in on him, how no one would stop touching him!

Cherri had noticed her friend's distraction and frowned, her eye darted back and forth on the cracked cement of the sidewalk before a metaphorical lightbulb went off in her head and she grinned. “Alright, enough mopin’, I know just the thing to make ya feel like a bad bitch again!”

Angel heaved a tired sigh. “Look Cherri I’m really not interested in any alcohol-”

“No booze!” Cherri promised, then paused and shrugged. “Well none for you anyway.”

“Where are we going then?” Angel asked. Cherri grabbed her friend's arm. “Come on!” She then took off, yanking him along with her.

-

Alastor opened the door to Rosie’s emporium and true to serafina’s word the emporium was bustling, throngs of people milling about, admiring the various products on display. Alastor weaved through the crowds until he made his way to the front of the store where Rosie was setting about tidying up.

“Rosie! Rosie, Darling!” He called, waving his arm above the crowd to get her attention.

Rosie looked up, her eyes lighting up upon seeing him. “Alastor? What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were visiting today.”

Alastor stepped past the last few demons separating them, pulling the woman into a hug. “Oh, I know, I simply had some time on my hands so I thought I’d come by and see you.”

Rosie smiled though her brows pinched upward, she turned back to the display stand she had been sorting. “Oh, Alastor you know I love you to bits and I love when we spend time together but the shop is so busy today- Oh, Darling that would look just devine on you!” She cut off the end of her sentence to address an imp who was admiring a dress on a mannequin in a window display.

 Alastor threw his head back with a laugh. “All the more reason for me to stay, surely you could use more hands.” He did jazz hands to emphasize his point.

“Come now, I couldn't possibly ask you to-” Rosie began to say before Alastor interrupted her.

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m offering!” He stepped forward and took the garment she was folding from her hands, folding it with efficiency and placing it down atop with the others.

Rosie looked at him uncertainty. “Are you sure?” She asked.

“As ‘Shore’ as the edge of the sea!” Alastor assured brightly.

“Well, if you're sure, maybe you could restock these?-” Rosie turned and picked up a box. Alastor took the box from her hands immediately. “Consider it done!” He cheered before walking off to do just that.

-

“Cherri, What the fuck is this place.” Angel asked as they descended the concrete stairs.

Cherri grinned at him as she hopped down the steps two at a time. “This is ‘Six feet deeper’. It's an underground fight club, pretty cool right?”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Hell has an underground fight club.”

“Yup!” Cherri replied, hopping down the last step and looking around at the many demons running around and yelling in either excitement or anger. The air reeked of aggressive masculinity, the copper of blood and… was that piss?

“And why are we here?” Angel asked at length as he came to stand beside her. Somebody's detached arm flew over the crowd and landed at his feet. “I told you!” Cherri exclaimed, grabbing his arm once again and tugging him through the crowd until they reached a table with a banner taped to the stone walls above it ‘Bets and sign up’ scrawled on it in crude hand. A bord looking weasel demon sat at the table, a cigarette and three cigars hanging from his lips. “This is the perfect place for you to blow off some steam!”

Angel's eyes widened. “Oh, no Cherri, I'm not in any shape to fight anybody.”

“Oh, come on Angie, this is just what’cha need,” Cherri insisted. She threw some mock punches in the air. ”To punch a bunch of drongos right in their arrogant faces and put all your anger into it! It’s, like, therapeutic or some shit.” She shrugged.

Angel made an uncertain sound in the back of his throat. “I don’t know.” He mumbled. “Aw, come on, Angie, please?” Cherri practically begged as she gave him her best puppy dog eye. Angel's face pinched and he held his breath for a bit as he weighed his options. He sighed. “Ok, look, I’ll watch the fights but I’m not gonna participate.” He conceded. Cherri punched him in the arm a little too hard for him. “I’ll take it!” She cheered. Then she led Angel to the table to get some tickets.

-

“Hello, there!”

The raccoon demon jumped as a smiling, deer demon poked his head around the mannequin she had been looking at.

“Um…hi?” She said, apprehensive. “Is there anything I can help you with?” The demon asked with a radio tint to his voice. His eyes pulsed with crimson light. The raccoon demon stuttered at the unsettling aura he seemed to give off. “O-oh, um, I was looking to buy this lovely dress!”

He looked from the dress to her, his smile firmly in place, making it extremely hard to read his expression. He straightened out a wrinkle she had left in the skirt of the dress. “I see,” He said cooly. “And were you looking to purchase anything else?”

“Oh, uh, no.” The woman replied. Then suddenly, she felt the prickle of static surrounding her, flushing out all the sounds around her and fogging her brain up. Her fur stood on end and she couldn't help but grit her teeth. Then something cut through the static and she felt all the color drain from her face. Pitch black eyes stared back at her, red radio dials for pupils that burned like hot coals and made her heart beat like a rabbit running from a wolverine.

“I-I mean, yes!” She shouted and in an instant the static dissipated. She gave a strained smile. “Yes, I was!” The demon straightened up looking like the cat that got the cream. “Excellent!” He exclaimed. “Do you need any help finding-”

“NO! Heh heh. No. I think I can manage.” She assured, backing away slowly before turning and running to the other side of the store. Alastor tilted his head at her. “Uh… Alastor, Sweetie?” A familiar voice said from behind him, causing his ears to perk.

“Ah, Rosie! Another customer helped! You’re very welcome, Dear!” Alastor said as he turned around. Rosie’s smile was genuine though her brows were pinched. “Yes thank you so much, Darlin’, I really appreciate it…but…maybe we should find a new job for you.” She said gently.

“Oh?”

Rosie pressed her palms together and pointed her fingertips at Alartor. “It’s simply that- you know how other demons fear you.” She stated. “Yes.” Alastor said with a great deal of pride.

“And that can make it difficult to interact with customers.” Rosie explained further. “I see.” Alastor nodded. He supposed that did make sense.

“Perhaps we should find a better job where your strengths lay more.” Rosie suggested.“Anything I can do to help your business, My dear!” Alastor exclaimed, tossing his cane in the air and catching it. Rosie smiled.

-

Angel sat in the stands, trying very hard not to focus on his headache and instead focus on the brawl happening inside the caged ring in front of him, which was hard when the cheering of the crowd only made the pulsing worse.

“YEAH! FUCK ‘EM UP!” Cherri shouted, as a panther demon suplexed an alligator demon- who was clearly losing on purpose- into the mat. Angel flinched and nearly growled at her to ‘ SHUT UP .’ before he realized what a dick move that would be especially at a fucking fight match. He groaned and dragged his hands down his face. God, he was so tired. He wanted to go home, cuddle with his pig and hide under the covers and pretend there was no leaky roof or cigarette burns on his arms or psychopathic moth’s until sleep overtook him.

“Angie?”

Angel legitimately jumped and flinched away at the concerned calling of his name and the hand on his arm that came with it. It was gentle but all Angel could think of was hands on his waist and arms and ass and he wanted to scream and cry. JUST DON’T FUCKING TOUTCH ME, STOP TOUTCHING ME, PlEASE, JUST LET ME GO- suddenly he has shaken out of his stupor both literally and metaphorically, he turned his head and saw Cherri looking at him with a creased brow and a clenched jaw. “You okay?” She asked. Angel then realized he was hyperventilating a bit and put what little focus he had left into making it stop, or at least try to do it in a less obvious way. “Yeah, yeah… I’m fine.” He finally managed.

“You sure? Cause-”

“YES, I’m sure!” Angel snapped. Causing Cherri’s eyelid to flare in shock and Angel immediately felt like the shittiest friend ever.

“I-I’m sorry, fuck , I’m sorry, Cherri, its just-” He took a long breath in and let it out in a tired sigh. “I had a long night last night and I know ya mean well, Baby, but I don’t think this is what I needed.”

“What are ya talkin’ about? This is how I always get ya ta feel better after a shit night!” CherrI threw her arms out towards the cage with a grin. There was a howl of pain and the side of her face got splattered with blood. Angel didn’t know how to tell her that wasn't exactly true. So instead he said, “Cherri, I think I should go home and get some sleep.”

Cherri’s brow creased more and she looked forlorn but resigned.  “O-okay, um, do ya need me to give ya a ride home? Ya can sleep on the drive over.” She suggested.

Angel shook his head. “I appreciate it, Suga’ tits but I think I need the walk, you enjoy ya bloodbath.” He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek then stood to leave. However before he was able to even make it to the door the alligator demon was suplexed by the bulky jaguar demon leading the crowd to break out into cheers that made Angels ears ring. He growled before shouting, “Oh, shut the fuck up! Of course that guys gonna look good if you put him up against him !” He gestured from the Alligator to the jaguar.

The room went silent and everyone in the stands had turned to Angel whose shoulders hunched as he grimaced; he hadn't meant to yell, his hangover and lack of proper sleep was just getting to him. Then behind him he heard a sharp perce of microphone feedback before a low voice growled out. “What did you just say?”

Angel turned to look over his shoulder and saw the Jaguar- what was his name again? Muhammad… Monroe… no, no it wasn't that, it was something else, anyway, he had managed to snatch the referee's mic somehow and was now glaring daggers at Angel from the center of the ring .

“What did you just say about me!?” He asked. Angel gritted his teeth. “Look, man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I'm just… not myself today.”

“No excuses!” The Jaguar shouted. ”Nobody speaks to Monches that way!” Ah, he was one of those guys who referred to himself in the third person, okay then. Well at least now Angel knew his name. But he felt his headache pulsing harder now he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to speak as calmly as possible.

“Look man, I really am sorry, it's just- come on, it's not like it wasn't obvious. I mean, are we talking about the same fight here?” He gave a chuckle, going for a ‘lightening the mood’ sort of tone but when Monches bared his teeth it was clear he had only succeeded in giving off the opposite effect.

“ Enough! ” He shouted once again, his tail lashing. “You think that you know so much about the art of combat? You think you could do better? Come up here and prove it! FIGHT ME !”

Angel looked at the Jaguar with an incredulous expression. “Are we having the same conversation here? I'm pretty sure I didn't even get a chance to answer your question.”

“ Fight me !” Monches roared. “Where is your self respect? Fight me !”

“What the fuck, Dude? NO, I'm not going to fight you!” Angel threw his arms out. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? He rolled his eyes. ”Look, just forget I said anything.” He turned and began to make his way back to the exit once more as Monches continued shouting at him.

“Very well, leave, what should I expect from a cowardice faggot such as yourself!”

Angel stopped in his tracks. Behind him he distantly heard Cherri say, “Oh, shit, now he’s done it.”

Angel slowly turned to look over his shoulder, his gaze just as eerily calm as his voice as he asked, “What did you just call me?”

Monches didn’t back down, either not understanding or being too stupid to care that he had made a grave error. “You heard me. You are a FA-” He went to say once again but cut himself off with a scream of pain as a bullet was shot right through his shoulder and sent clattering down to the mat behind him. Monches clutched at his shoulder, breathing heavily and bearing his teeth as he glared with wild eyes at Angel whose gun was still aimed at the jaguar.

“Klein baster!” Monches shouted.

“Alright, Pussycat ,” Angel spat as he approached the ring and jumped clean over the caged wall to land right in front of the broad feline.

“You want a fight? You got one. ”

-

“There we are!” Alastor exclaimed as he tucked the garment into a paper shopping bag and gently pushed it across the counter to the customer. “Thank you very much for shopping at Rosie’s emporium!”

The customer smiled with a nod and picked the bag up off of the counter. “Thank you!”

Alastor watched as the young imp women left the establishment, the doors closing behind her. Rosie then walked up to him, looking from the door to him with a proud smile. “Oh, Alastor, ya did just great!”

“Oh, thank you, my Dear, it’s an absolute pleasure helping you.” He replied. “And good news you can go home now!” Rosie exclaimed.

A record scratch. “Beg pardon?” Alastor asked. Rosie smiled. “You were a very big help today but I think my staff and I can handle it from here.”

Alastor blinked and before Rosie could ask if he was alright there was a crash from behind them. She turned around to see Alastors little minions had toppled over a display and were jumping around and tossing the scattered goods between themselves, giggling gleefully.

Alastor gasped with faux indignantsy. “How entirely disrespectful!” He shouted walking through the little opening in the checkout counter and over to the little creatures, his hands on his hips while looking down at them disapprovingly. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, treating Rosies establishment so terribly!” He then turned back to Rosie. “Oh but don’t worry, Darling, I’ll have this cleaned up in a jiffy!”

He then bent down and began to pick items off the floor one by one instead of using his magic and as Rosie watched on as he tipped the display back up, she started to get the feeling that something was wrong.

-

“Uh, Angie,Ya sure ya wanna do this?”

Angel turned to look over his shoulder at Cherri as she entered the locker room. He gestured to the pink and black tank top and shorts he had changed into. “What do you think?” He asked. He turned so his back was facing her and began to adjust the wraps on his hands.

Cherri crossed the locker room to stand in front of him.“Angie, look I get it, If I were you I’d beat that guy's ass too but you said you wanted to go home.”

“Oh, so now ya want me to go home? What happened to wanting me to feel like a ‘badass bitch’?” Angel retorted. “Angel-” Cherri said, dropping the nickname only to be interrupted by said arachnid.

“You heard what that figlio di puttana called me!” He snarled, pointing backwards at the door that led back to the ring. “He wanted to fight me? Fine! And you can either sit in the stands to support me or go home. What’s it gonna be, Cherri?”

Cherri grimmaced and flinched back at her best friend's words. Her eye lowered to the ground as she thought through her options, Angel standing there and silently waiting for her to say something.

Eventually Cherri looked up. “I’ll be front row, center.” She said. She then left the locker room and Angel didn’t see her again until he was back in the ring and she was in fact cheering wildly from the front row. He smiled to himself at this before he heard a low growl from in front of him, he looked up and rolled his eyes as he saw Monches glaring at him once more, his feet in a wide stance as if ready to pounce and perhaps he was.

Angel made it a point to look away as visually uninterested as possible before the ref stepped in the center of the ring, mic in hand. “Alright you sick degenerates, you ready to see some blood ?!” Asked the weasel demon in a slimy growl.

He gestured to Monches. “In the right corner we have twelve time heavyweight champion Monches: the massacrer!” Then to Angel. “And in this corner is hell's sexiest demon, the one, the only Angel Dust!”

Angel didn't bother showboating even as the audience erupted into crazed cheers, instead he locked his right arms over his chest with his left arms and repeated it on the other side. The ref continued to drone on about the rules- or rather: lack of rules- while Angel only focused on the practically salivating feline in front of him. He only absently noticed the ref leave the ring and secure the cage door before rushing into the stands to take bets. Angel didn't hear anything clearly until the bell gave a ring and Monches sprinted at him. He didn't move until the jaguar was halfway across the ring. He grabbed onto the cage wall behind him and used his upper body strength to pull himself up, curling his legs in before kicking Monches square in the face and sending him flying across the ring and slamming into the opposite cage wall before finally falling to the ground.

And just like that it was over. Angel stood back up and walked over to the now unconscious jaguar as the audience- save Cherri- and all the employees stared in shock. He rolled Monches over with the toe of his boot and smiled in satisfaction as he saw Monches’s nose starting to purple and bleeding profusely. Finally he gave one last hard stomp to his crotch before turning and leaving the ring.

As he made his way back to the locker room he refused any of the employees offers for a cut of the bet money and instead went and changed before making his way to the stairs and back up to the street. He took a deep breath as he processed the fact that even though the air was definitely fresher out here, it was only by a little bit  which still left his mood in the ballpark of ‘absolute shit’. It wasn't long before Cherri came running up the stairs behind him as well.

“Angie ya were fucking great!” She exclaimed.  Angel didn't look at her, instead he turned his back to her and started walking down the street in the direction of this apartment. “Yeah… thanks.” He muttered. His best friend stared after him for a moment before she jogged up to meet his pace. “ Whoa, whoa, hey. The hell's goin’ on with ya today?”

Angel didn't know how to answer that question and the more and more he thought about possible answers the more frustrated he became. Until he let out a wordless groan and threw his hands up in the air. “UHG, I dunno it's just…” He let his arms fall down and slap his thighs. He sighed. “Dontcha want something better than this sometimes, Cherri?”

The redhead blinked at him, clearly not understanding his question, which was only further prominent when she gave her response. “What are ya talkin’ about? What could be better than this?” She said with a laugh.

Angel only gave another heavier sigh before turning to jerk out of his friend's hold and continue to walk down the sidewalk the way he was going. “I'm going home, CherrI. I'm tired.” He said. Cherri didn't follow him this time. She stood on the corner of the road and continued to stare after her friend with an odd look in her eye. Eventually though she forced a sharp toothed grin and gave a small wave. “Yeah… okay, yeah, see you later!” She called.

-

Alastor sat up and wiped at his brow with the back of his hand. “Fyew! That ought to do it!” He commented as he examined the freshly waxed floor of the emporium. He began packing away his utensils and stood as Rosie approached. “Yes, it looks very nice, Alastor.” She complemented genuinely, if a little strained. “And now that you’re finished you can head home, you must be exhausted.” She said, her hands clasped. Alastor, however, barely acknowledged her. He looked up at the ceiling. “Perhaps I should wax the ceiling as well, to tie it all together.” He mused. “No! No.” Rosie insisted. Alastor turned to look at her. “Alastor, Sweetheart, I very much appreciate how much you’ve helped today but I just don't need your help anymore and it’s getting rather late.” She continued much more calmly. Alastors smile shrank and his ears fell back a bit. He took notice of this and turned so his back was facing Rosie.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on with you? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to avoid going back to your home as long as possible.”

Alastor didn’t respond. Rosie frowned deeper and deeper as the pieces started to click into place. She looked at her friend for a long time before putting a hand on his shoulder, causing Alastor to jump a bit. Her heart ached. “Why don't you go get some rest, Honey?” she suggested. “You’ve done a lot today. But I’ll see you on Thursday for our usual brunch, alright?”

Alastor gave a sigh and turned back to her, smiling in a way that to anyone else would look just like all his other smiles but Rosie saw how it didn't reach his eyes. “I suppose you're right, Darling. I shouldn't keep you up all night. It was a pleasure spending the day with you.” He said and left the emporium before Rosie could respond.

-

Angel had meant to head straight home. He had and he almost made it when his phone rang. He pulled it out and opened it to see a message from Valentino.

Val: Tower. Now.

Oh, fuck, that can’t be good. Angel thought. He knew that the less words Valentino typed in a text to him the more serious he was. Angel looked up at his apartment. He knew that Fat Nuggets was waiting inside for him and that he hadn't eaten all day. Maybe he could sneak up there real quick just to put some food in his bowl and then run down to the tower as fast as he could?

 If you don't get to the studio as fast as you can you may not have a pet pig to feed anymore. His mind whispered to him.

He gave one last grimacing look at the building then sent off a mental apology to his pig before dashing in the direction of Vee Tower.

-

Despite the fact that Alastor took the same route both ways, the walk back to his radio tower from Rosie's Emporium seemed longer than the walk that he took to get there. Perhaps his own feet were slowing him down subconsciously, perhaps he knew this, perhaps he wanted to pretend that he didn't. But all the same he was annoyed by it, regardless, because that only meant more and more time spent walking down the sidewalks of hell as demons alike scattered  at the mere sight of him but at the same time Alastor was able to catch glances before they froze in fear of his visage; glances of happy couples walking hand in hand, of families taking a stroll through the park, of friends chatting at an outdoor table just in front of the cafe.

 Alastor felt a pit in his stomach and didn't know if he wanted to get home sooner or not.

Regardless, he kept walking and he kept smiling.

-

By the time Angel had made it back to the tower he was heaving labored breaths from a combination of nerves and exertion. He held himself up with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He only allowed himself a moment's rest, however, before he stood back up and put on his cocky porn star persona and strutted into the lobby. People stared at him as he made his way to the elevator which Angel was used to but he knew that they weren't the usual ravenous stares he was used to, he knew that people were staring at him now because of how awful he looked. He felt his face heat with embarrassment. He made sure to walk to the elevator as fast yet surreptitiously as possible. When he reached it, however, before he could press the button, the doors opened themselves, Peppermint standing on the other side. Vox’s assistant looked up from his clipboard and his eyes widened.

“Oh, Angel Dust, you're here, good!” He said and stepped to the side to make room in the car for Angel. “Valentino sent me to escort you to him, come along.” Angel stepped into the car without a word and no more words were exchanged during the ride either. They stopped on the topmost floor and Peppermint led the way down the hall until they came to an open set of double doors that led to a parlor where Vox and Valentino were waiting.

Peppermint rapped his knuckles gently against the doorframe, causing the overlords to look up. When Valentino saw Angel a slimy grin made its way onto his face that never ceased to make a chill travel up the arachnids spine.

“Angel-cakes, Baby, so glad you could make it.” Val greeted and gestured for Angel to get closer. Angel walked into the room and took a seat on the moth demon's lap. “Hi, Daddy, ya needed something’ from me?” He asked. Valentino took a puff of his cigarette and nodded. “Sure do, Baby-cakes,” He turned and picked up an envelope from the table next to him then passed it to Angel.

“What’s this?” Angel asked as he reached into the envelope and pulled out its contents.

Val tapped the top of the envelope with his opera length cigarette holder, causing a bit of ash to fall onto Angel’s lap. He resisted flinching through years of practice. “This is an invitation from the king of hell himself to a gala for all the overlords in hell.” Val explained as Angel looked over the peice of cardstock that was in the envelope that read just that.

“Apparently it’s to establish good will between us overlords or some shit. This is going to be an annual thing and this is the first one.” He then raised an eyebrow in Angel's direction. “And guess what? You’re gonna be my plus one.”

“Oh… really?” Angel asked, his eyes flitted away for a moment then back to his boss. “This kinda thing aint really my scene though, Val.”

Valentino cooed and took Angel’s chin in his hand. “Oh, I know, Baby, but don't you worry your pretty little head, Daddy will be there to make sure you don't embarrass yourself.”

Angel forced a smile. “Thank you, Daddy.” Valentinos own grin only grew. “Good boy.” He said before looking down at Angel’s outfit, finally taking it in. “Now, why don’t you get down to your dressing room and change into something prettier, hm? While you were out I had someone go shopping for you to get you a new dress for the party and a few other presents for you.”

Angel nodded. “Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy.” He slipped off Val’s lap and went back into the hallway without a word and down the hall to his dressing room.

-

Alastor entered his estate and shut the door behind him, the sound echoed off the walls of the entry hall, leaving a far too loud silence in its wake. Alastor leaned his back against the dark oaker wood of his front door and took the biggest breath he could. He let it out in a slow huff, his  smile dropping concurrently. Instead of simply standing up straight he used his hands to push himself off the door and began making his way down the hall, his ears twitching at his heels clicked against the floor and the noise only amplified as he reached the foyer. He walked up the stairs and on auto pilot, walks the familiar path to his office as his mind is muddled with thoughts of so many things and nothing once or ever.

He only realized he had made it to his destination when he almost walked right into the door. He stepped back a few paces and blinked at the wood as his sluggish brain processed what had happened. Eventually it connected, though and he gave another tired sigh as he ran his hand through his hair before turning the doorknob and opening the door.

As he walked into his office he looked out the floor to ceiling window that took up the left wall and was surprised to see that it was dark out. He turned to look at the clock on the wall just behind his desk and saw that it was 8 o’clock. Had he really been out that late? He supposed that was his intention but…

He shook his head and marched towards his desk. As he got closer he noticed stacks of envelopes on his desktop. It was his shadow minions job to bring him his mail and he supposed that they had left it here so that he could find it when he got back. Strange they didn’t just bring it to him. He picked up the stack of envelopes and began sorting through it. It was mostly your average junk mail and he burned those ones. The last envelope however caught his attention, he raised an eyebrow. It was a golden envelope sealed shut with a red wax seal with a symbol of a snake wrapped around an apple embedded into it. The royal symbol.

His curiosity now thoroughly piqued, he used his claw to open the envelope and pulled its contents out: A golden piece of cardstock lined at the edges with shimmering red foil snakes. Alastor read over the message inscribed on the cardstock in crimson calligraphy.

A gala for all of the overlords in hell? He thought. Intriguing to be sure but Alastor was never quite a fan of mingling with the other overlords, most of them were pompous, simpletons that thought themselves far above the rest of sinners and quite possibly the rest of hell. And spending an entire night in the same room as them? That wasn’t exactly Alastors definition of a good time… Although… Galas did tend to last well into the morning. Alastor looked around his big empty office and to the door that he knew led to an equally empty estate then back to the invitation and the date inscribed on it. He would be out of the house the day after the gala on business. Alastor waved his hand and the envelope was set inside one of his desk drawers and his calendar was marked.

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 29

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant, Lucy Lane, Damian Wayne, Felicity Smoak, Streaky the Supercat, Martha Kent, Selina Kyle, Talia Al Ghul, Lucius Fox, Maggie Sawyer, Alex Danvers, Jason Todd, Otis Graves, Lex Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28

Note: Sorry for the long wait guys! I have been suffering from an assortment of medical issues the last couple of months and is still ongoing. I used to be able to do multiple stories in a week, but it just took me two months to come out with this chapter with everything going on. I won't be able to go back to how I was doing things weekly, but I hope to be able to come out with another chapter in a shorter amount of time. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy what happens next!

Kara stared lovingly at Lena sleeping peacefully next to her. She lightly traced with her fingers the freckles along Lena’s back. 

I have never been this happy before!

Kara happily stared at Lena for a couple of minutes until Lena started to stir.

Lena yawned and asked, “Have you been staring at me all night?”

Kara chuckled and said, “No, only for the last half hour.”

Lena turned around so that she was facing Kara and caressed her face.

Lena smirked and asked, “Do you like what you see?”

Kara leaned into Lena to kiss her on the lips which caused Lena to purr in contentment.

After a couple of minutes, Kara leaned back and said, “I enjoyed every breathtaking sight of you.”

Lena blushed and said, “You know the way to a girl’s heart.”

Kara smirked and said, “I hope amongst other things as well after last night.”

Lena chuckled while she swatted playfully Kara’s arm and said, “You are incorrigible.”

Kara chuckled and cuddled up against Lena and said, “You know you love it.”

Lena smiled while caressing Kara’s face and said, “That I do.”

Lena leaned in and kissed Kara. They held in each other’s embrace until Kara leaned back and sighed. 

As Kara lazily started to trace the freckles along Lena’s shoulder, she said, “If it wasn’t for the STEM panel today, I would stay here with you all day.”

Lena smiled and said, “I would rather stay in bed with you too, but this is a good cause. I am honored that Barry asked me to participate in this.”

Kara smiled and said, “Me too. It is nice to work with Barry on something that doesn’t revolve around a crisis.”

Lena smiled and said, “Hopefully, this is a sign of more things to come. Maybe, Flash and Supergirl could do an event at the hospital.”

Kara pouted and asked, “Getting tired of little old me huh?”

Lena looked at Kara mortified and said, “It is nothing like that…We work so well together….It is just that I was talking to Sam and she suggested maybe building up a rooster of heroes for the hospital especially since you have a friendship with the Flash and possibly the Bat family….I knew I should have kept this thought to myself….Damn it…..”

Kara quickly placed a finger on Lena’s lips which startled her into silence. 

Kara smirked and said, “You are so cute when you are flustered.”

Lena pouted and said, “You’re teasing me aren’t you.”

Kara chuckled while pulling Lena in closer and kissing her on the forehead and said, “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist.”

Lena turned away and pouted more. 

Kara chuckled and cuddled Lena closer to her and asked, “Would it make you feel better that I have talked to Barry and members of the Bat-family and they have agreed to help with any event related to the hospital? All they would need is a heads up.”

Lena looked at Kara surprised and asked, “Really?”

Kara smiled while caressing Lena’s face and said, “Really. They all see how much good that you are doing in society and want to help.” Kara leaned forward and kissed Lena on the lips and whispered in her ears, “Plus, they see how crazy I am about you.”

Lena blushed and said, “I didn’t realize.”

Kara smiled while caressing Lena’s face and said, “I wish you could see  your own brilliance.”

Lena blushed while looking down shyly and said, “Keep saying things like that and I will end up with a big ego.”

Kara chuckled and said, “Let’s just start off by using our collective egos to inspire future girls in STEM.”

As Kara started to get up from the bed, she stretched, put on a robe, and said, “I can make us breakfast while you get ready.”

Lena looked at Kara coyly and said, “Or we could both take a shower together. Save on water and energy.”

Read the rest on AO3

[fallenlightsif]

— Chapter 2, Part 1

Coming in late June/early July ✨

Surviving Liris

Liris holds more secrets than you know and more conspiracy than the crown believes. An abandoned son might prove to be a worthy guide…and help you survive the night.

✨Survive Liris…perhaps by the skin of your teeth

✨Meet a mysterious stranger…or several

✨Make it to Oclesia

✨Watch over your companions carefully…it’s easy to lose someone in the woods…

…

I tried to warn you when you were a child

I told you not to get lost in the wild

I sent omens and all kinds of signs

I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you

(You can run but you can't escape)

Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

(You will open the yawning grave)

— The Yawning Grave, Lord Huron