#i have a practice rifle laying around here somewhere

[tacticaltechs]

Me, spotting anything that looks weighty and long enough to be somewhat balanced:

My brain: spin it

[sugarcakeworld]

Dethbears

Dethbears

Prompt: “skiwstok weed date now”

Say less. They also go to BAB cause there’s Dethklok bears. They go to BAB and get high. There you go. 

Disclaimer: I can’t write with the accents. I don’t own Gerald. Or Metalocalypse. Or Build-a-Bear.

Deathbears

Pickles was sitting at the table in the kitchen clutching his phone in his hand. “Oh, hey, Skwiwsgaar,” Pickles lifted his Dethphone up, flashing the screen to show an advertisement for Build-a-Bear. “Did you see this? They’re making Dethklok Build-a-Bears. You should take Toki there. He’ll totally want to make a little Skwisgaar bear.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Skiwsgaar replied. Despite sounding uninterested, Pickles caught on that he was serious.

“Okay, and when you do, don’t just leave him there to pick up chicks. I know we all do it, but seriously-don’t forget Toki and leave your bandmate behind.” Pickles always felt the need to mother them. 

“Don’t you think you’re asking a little too much of me?” Skwisgaar wanted Pickles to take a moment and think about it.

“Hmmm, I guess that’s true. I am. Okay, well, have a good day either way. And Skwisgaar? Have fun.”  Pickles was genuine. 

Walking away with his coffee, Skwisgaar said, “Uh-huh.” He turned around the corner and walked down the hallway of Mordhaus, stopping outside of Toki’s room. He knocked on it a few times before Toki finally answered. He only had his pants on, looking like he’d love nothing more than to lay back down on his bed and sleep.

“What?” He asked. “It’s early.”

“No, it’s not. It’s noon. What did you even do last night?” Skwisgaar asked. “Up all night texting me that weird shit- “ Something at the edge of Toki’s desk caught his eye and he walked right into the room, grabbing it off his desk. “Ah ha! I knew it. You smoked all my weed. But what you didn’t know is that I filled my stash box with Cheesmaster.” As one of the Dethklok strains, it was infamous for making people feel like they were inside of a bubble or see sacred geometry.

Toki dragged a hand over his face. “Wolf. You left that there for days. You weren’t smoking it. As a trap? That’s kinda weird.”

“Serves you right,” Skiwsgaar said, narrowing his eyes. “Always smoking all my weed.”

Toki shrugged. “Whatever. Why’d you come in here?”

“Oh, right,” Skiwsgaar straightened up, carrying the stash box under his arm. “I thought I’d take you to Build-a-Bear and we can get totally high.”

“Ha!” Toki pointed at him. “You just want to pick up sluts!” He still seemed excited. 

“I don’t know how many women will even be there, besides the ones taking their kids.” It’s not like he just wanted to spend time with Toki. “You gonna go or what?”

“Of course. Gonna get high at Build-a-Bear with my pal Skwisgaar. Just let me grab a shirt. Gotta eat breakfast too.” He bent down and rifled through his dresser.

“I’m gonna go put this in my room,” Skiwsgaar said, smiling and walking off to find someone to drive them.

Since neither one of them would drive, they rode in the back of a car with the klokateers who would be their bodyguards sitting up front. Toki filled a then emptied pre rolled Swisher Sweet up with a Deathstrain called Explosion Tits. Well practiced and in synchronization, he held out the blunt and Skiwsgaar waved a flame from a lighter over the bottom, before they took turns smoking the finished product. It really did seem like Skwisgaar just wanted to hang out with him and smoke weed and take him somewhere just to make him happy, which did in fact make Toki happy. Even if the Swede would inevitably ruin it by forgetting him.

“We got to make all the pals for the whole band,” Toki was saying, eyes scanning the whole advertisement for Dethklok Build-a-Bears on his Dethphone. “They’ll say they don’t want them. But come on! They’re all so cute.”

“Won’t that take forever?” Skiwsgaar asked. “Just make the one you want and have fun with it.”

Disappointed, Toki sighed. “Yeah, ok. I’ll order the others online. Are you gonna make one?”

“Pfft, no.” He made a face.

“I want to have matching bears.” Toki’s blue eyes were kind of unsettling when he put up that intense puppy eye stare.

“Vafan, fine.” 

Toki couldn’t imagine in a million years Skiwsgaar agreeing to take him to Build-a-Bear, never mind watching some employee boss him around and make him jump up and down. Skiwsgaar had no idea what he was in for.

They sat in the parking lot for the better part of twenty minutes smoking. Skwisgaar kept trying to get a candid photo of Toki looking hideous and Toki kept ruining his plans by successfully posing for each shot. “How are you doing this? You always take terrible photos of us and you can’t take a bad shot? Should be criminal, the way you’re always tagging us in fucking awful photos.”

“You can’t pose for shit.” Toki thought it was obvious.

“Yeah, it’s true,” Skiwsgaar said. “Not that you warn us.”

“Nathan is just not photogenic. Always needing the photo shop touch ups. Rag-mags having a field day anytime they get a paparazzi photo that looks like hot shit.”

“Me too,” Skwisgaar admitted.

“Yes, me too.”

After a beat, Skwisgaar knocked on the window, signaling they were ready to get out of the car. It didn’t take long before a few people noticed the presence of Klokateers and the two members of Dethklok, but for the most part everyone seemed too busy with their own shopping to bother them. Getting carried away, Toki grabbed Skiwsgaar by the wrist and pulled him towards the store, excited by the display out front.

“Oh, wowee, it’s like a million Deaddybears!” He let go of Skiwsgaar to walk past the rows of displays and barrels of accessories. “Look at the tiny shoes! So cool!”

“Yeah,” Skwisgaar said. An employee stepped out from behind the counter to help them, a name tag with the name “Gerald” written on the front in sharpie. The name tag had a puffy sticker of a bird on it. Gerald had long hair and a slightly blemished complexion, with thick glasses hanging half-way down his nose. 

“Oh my god, it’s Dethklok,” Gerald said under his breath. Then slightly louder, he addressed them. “Welcome to Build-a-Bear, can I help you?”

“We’re here for the Dethklok bears,” Toki said. “You didn’t sell out, did you?”

“Oof. I’m sorry. We did sell out. But I actually have a hold from Pickles the Drummer. And I’m sure you’ll get promotional bears and gifts at Mordhaus for the collaboration. There was a live event with Toki bear. It was so cute.”

Toki blew a raspberry. “Totally missed it. Too many collaborations to keep up with. Sad I missed it. Pickle held some for us?” He pointed at all of the Murderface leftovers. “Why didn’t these sell?”

“I don’t know!“ Gerald said. “Look at him. So grumpy. Yeah, he wants to stab something.” He stopped messing with the Murderface on display and stepped back behind the counter. “Lemme check on that hold.”

Looking around, Skwisgaar saw that there were some families milling around with young children out of school, as well as a few customers who would wander in and out. Grandparents just looking and getting ideas for gifts. Young women lingering in front of displays of Hello Kitty. Skwisgaar was oddly stuck to his side, bending down to inspect an unstuffed Toothless. 

“You should get one of those,” He encouraged the Swede. Skwisgaar stood up. 

“I have way too many deaddybears. Fans always throw them at you, right in the face while we’re on stage. And you give them to me, and I never get rid of gifts. Too many deaddybears.” Skwisgaar reasoned. “Just way too many to get even one more.” He was somewhat of a sentimental hoarder. A big softy, like Deaddybear. Even if he always had resting bitch face.

“You said you’d make one,” Toki reminded him.

“Yeah, OK,” Skwisgaar said. “Let’s see what Pickles put on hold.”

Gerald came back with a few plastic bags full of unstuffed Skwisgaar and Toki bears, as well as the clothes and accessories that came with them. “Aw, look at these friends,” he held them up for Skiwsgaar and Toki to see. 

Skwisgaar’s Build-a-Bear was a generic white polar bear with blue eyes. A polar bear? How did that even make sense? It looked crazy without stuffing. In a separate plastic bag Gerald opened was his signature and more recent Thunderhorse Gibson Explorer. Toki’s Build-a-Bear was a generic brown bear with a little Manchu over its smile. A blue shirt, boots, and his Snow Falcon Flying V were in separate plastic bags. 

“Toki should come with tiny little blunts from when he smokes all of Skwisgaar’s weed,” Skwisgaar said under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Toki ignored him, taking all of the little plastic bags with Skwisgaar bear’s clothes and boots and guitar. “Gonna make a Skwisgaar bear. Han er veldig keeg.”

Dead quiet, a slightly flushed Skwisgaar accepted the Toki Build-a-Bear plastic bags and watched as Gerald stuffed the bears, not saying a damn thing and trying and failing not to laugh. Toki definitely laughed.

“Oh, my god, no, don’t stuff them too much!” He exclaimed. “Make them soft!”

Gerald just smiled, fully aware of how hard it was to watch this part without losing it, despite the family friendly atmosphere. “Uh-huh, no worries.”  He handed both Skwisgaar and Toki little red hearts as requested. All he made them do was put them above their heads and shake them, before warming them up in their hands. Toki made Skwisgaar say something into the voice recording machine, despite there being a pre-recorded option from some promotional material for the band. 

“Knulla dig,” Skwisgaar said towards the screen, enjoying this way too much. Toki rolled his eyes but let it slide. Oblivious, Gerald stitched up their bears and handed them over. 

Toki held up his finished Skwisgaar bear, who did have a decent head of felt blonde hair, because he probably looked too ugly for words bald headed and wearing a black tank top. All that white fur. “He does look pretty awesome.” He stuffed him into the little blue and white box. 

The klokateers that had come with them appeared with boxes and boxes of Build-a-Bears that Toki had ordered online ahead of time. It was comical how they skillfully managed to carry all of them as well as the two additional boxes back to the car. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t leave me there to go hang out with some sluts,” Toki said.

“I haven’t been that bad about it, recently.” Skwisgaar said, though not defensively.

“No, you haven’t,” Toki agreed. “Want to smoke and do hand stuff on the way back?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Skwisgaar said as the car door closed next to him. There were so many blue and white boxes they were crammed in pretty close together. It also effectively blocked them off from view of the klokateers sitting up front or any onlookers.

-

Ending notes:

*What the fuck.

*He looks really cool.

*Fuck me.

I don’t know I just feel like whatever is wrong with Toki, it could be fixed if someone would just take him to Build-a-Bear. And I know that goofball would want the Hello Kitty releases. Also, Skwisgaar been taking it easy on the body count in Army of the Doomstar. By the way, if you even care.

[thewanderer-000]

The Ginger Snapped

Minors DNI

TW: Violence, gore, horror, adult content, seggual themes and scenes

(Note: Inspired by the werewolf attack scene in the Ginger Snaps movie, but not the werewolf-ication like the movie)

A nice cool breeze hit Penelope and Cheeseburger had a bit of relief from being out in the sun after that morning fire fight at the apple orchard. They had apples, had, Cheeseburger ate all of them and Penelope wasn't going to tell him no. She treated him like a giant puppy and he stuck by her because of it, and today he was also hunting. Penelope understood why, a creature was around and smelt odd that one day. And they were tracking it as Peaches followed behind 'em as stealthy back but lost interest as Cheeseburger found a fresh scent and chased it into Jacob Seeds territory.

'Whatever this thing was, it could run. Luckily my boy could run too, but maybe I should have 'im give up. I hate to be somewhere we could be out of contact with anyone' I follow Cheeseburger to the mountains after a few miles it got scary quiet, I feel my body fear sweat but as I quickly walk past a tree am pushed in its shadow. A hand on my mouth, and a rasp telling me to

"Shut up, something's out here and it chased away your bear". I am nervous and keep quiet, I look up at the one attached to the hand, and see it's Jacob. If Jacob is on edge this must be bad, I push his hand away and keep steady and quiet. And like that something comes running and whoosh Jacob and I are knocked to the ground, Cheeseburger runs away whimpering. No injuries from what I could see, Jacob helps me up, I looked him up and down see he got clawed a little. Of all the people to run into out here, I get Jacob Seed. My evening is getting weirder and weirder.

___________________

"You got clawed a little, sorry" I say to Jacob as he winced, he looked at the wound then stood up straight after a moment.

"Fuck, you'd think he would have stayed to maul me or somethi-" he teased but was cut off and screamed as a beast attacked, it ran off with Jacob in its teeth. He dropped his rifle as the beast ran close by me sending me to the ground. I scrambled to pick up Jacob's rifle, and am in a panic listening out for which direction of Jacob's screaming and wailing. Then quiet, and it panicked me more, I start running in the direction I was more than sure he was screaming in earlier.

"Jacob!? Jacob!!? Jacob!!!" I run and I look all over and am unbelievably scared at the moment hoping he'll answer my calls. And I run and run then we run into each other, he falls on top of me yelling incoherently before being whipped into a tree. I lay there for a moment then the beast is bitting into Jacob practically shaking him like a chew toy. He's screaming and groaning, I immediately jam the rifle barrel into its side and squeeze the trigger. It dropped down releasing Jacob, I pulled him away enough to help him up then we ran. He lead the way to a cabin but from slight blood loss he began to slow down as we got closer. I support his weight and helped him to the bed once we got in, Iocked the door and started to look at his injuries. He pushed my hands away obviously in shock and pain.

"Stop, don't-, quit, don't" I kinda fought with Jacob trying to look at him better, he breathed ragged holding my hands tightly that it hurt.

"Ow, Jacob please we have to- stop, let me stop the bleeding-, Jacob just let me look" I whimpered, he's reluctant but let's me see, I touch as he squeezes his eyes shut. And nothing, it was healing that almost hardly any blood came out, I was in awe and just glad a shower was in this cabin, we're lucky. I think.

"Fuck, you're practically healed, how can that be, the wounds were deep. Hmm. You think it's still alive, I guess not if we're alive. I'll look around then I'll get you cleaned up" I find clothes and sigh relieved they had all different sizes and I checked the water faucet. It didn't run but it was fine after a moment, running water, lucky the pipes didn't freeze yet. We were covered in so much blood, but Jacob more so, even the injury on his leg from earlier. I stripped down to nothing and put my hair up so I could get Jacob undressed and cleaned up. He tries to put his hand up higher than his shoulder but is struggling, I pretend to not notice and toss my stuff in a trash bag and drag it to the bathroom for Jacob's clothes.

"Alright, let's get you to the bathroom and stripped down, we can wash up and I can clean them injuries" I say to him and he follows orders luckily but if he wanted to fight I would have obliged. I get his boots off then his bloodied clothes, but Jacob isn't paying attention to that as he stares at my exposed tits. I turned to drop his stuff in with mine and feel a pinch on my butt, I yelp, jumped then turn to scowl at Jacob.

"I don't think you can wash the dirty thoughts from my brain right now, darlin'" Jacob said smirking a sly smile, 'men' is all I can think.

"Get in that shower, nows not the time for hanky panky" I say, but he chuckled and stood up I followed him in, Jacob stumbled and grabbed on, I hold on to him and he moved his hand lower to cup my ass.

"Jacob, hand." Jacob squeezed giving me a confused look, I shake my head.

"Get your hand off my butt" he moved it lower, so I turn the water hot, not to me but I knew it'd be hot to him. Or so I thought.

"Ah, that feels good" Jacob moaned, I just grabbed a couple wash clothes that I found in the bathroom cupboard and soap up his cloth.

"Here wash yourself, have any trouble I can help" I tell Jacob as I get my wash cloth ready to wash myself. I tackle the blood that dried on to my skin and scrub away, he nudges me to get his back and unfortunately he's covered in dried blood there too. We're cleaned up after awhile, we got dried and clothed, I wasn't expecting to get stranded out here but we're at a truce for now. We lay on the double bed, but I'm too scared to sleep, yet my eyes feel so heavy.

"Hey, you asleep Jacob?" I ask hesitantly, I feel Jacob turn to me then he reached for me through the darkness. His hand grazed over between my legs but he grabbed my side to pull me against his chest, he made a grumble and held me. I was still scared but a little warmer and soon I drift off to sleep.

___________________

"Mm-good morning" I say and feel a hand on a chest, I look at Deputy Penelope Thompson, so I don't have to relive yesterday evening. But she's clothed and I realize we're enemies again or she hasn't had my same thought. I touch her hand on my chest and noticed she was just covering me before she left.

"Oh morning, Jacob. I uh- I was just going to go see about the creature that attacked you" she said as she sat down on the bed, I noticed her eyes went down cast looking at my bandaged chest, her hand lingered on my non injured shoulder and her gaze turned soft looking at it.

"Let me come with you, Pen-" I say getting up feeling little to no sting, almost no issues, a bit weak but nothing I can't handle. Penelope massaged my shoulder then got up to go grab me the clothes she put aside.

"OK, before you get dressed I wanna clean your wounds first and we can go scope out the area" Penelope had first aid in her other hand when she arrived back at my side, she dropped the clothes and aid on the bed as she sat to peel away the blood stained bandaging. She wiped away the dried blood and we were shocked to see the healing was pretty much done. But the hair growing from it was unnerving, Penelope got up and took the kettle off and poured it into a small basin and cleaned away the dried blood, the first aid had few cleaning pads. I eyed her and felt hazy or it was just soothing how she took care of me.

[agustdwrites]

Yoongi did as promised and stayed with you for the next few days. It was hard seeing you break down over and over again, but he knew that this was part of the process. It happened less and less as time passed, but you remained fairly quiet most of the time, lost in the thoughts that are away at you.

On the third day, you became more chatty. Of course, having been only a few days since the loss of your brother, the hurt still cut deep, but you were able to manage it better. Because of what the world had become, you had to pick yourself up as fast as you could in order to survive.

Yoongi had convinced you to leave the warehouse, just to take a short walk and get some air. The cold air made your skin tingle, but it was nice to be outside again. You gripped your bow in one hand, the other held tightly by Yoongi. You shivered as a chill moved down your spine, squeezing Yoongi’s hand. He removed his hand from yours, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to keep you warm.

You lead Yoongi to your favourite hunting spot, carefully climbing up the ladder to the roof. “Stay low.” You said as he followed you across the roof. You pointed down at a vast area full of infected. “Is there always so many here?” He asked in awe. You shrugged, “Usually, but not always. I like to come here for target practice. This is actually where I was before I got attacked that day.”

He patted your hair, smiling sympathetically. You tucked your bow into your bag as you removed your sniper rifle from around your back. You dug through the snow, making yourself a comfortable spot to lay down, Yoongi doing the same as per your instructions. You brought the scope to your eye, focusing on an infected. Yoongi chuckled quietly as he noticed you stick your tongue out as you focused. When you were satisfied with the view, you pulled the trigger. “Holy shit..” Yoongi said as he watched the infected drop. He’d never seen one hit from so far a distance.

You moved the sniper in front of him. “Your turn.” He looked at you with wide eyes, “What? I’ve never used a sniper before!” You smiled, “That’s why we’re here. So you can learn.” He hesitated, picking up the gun. You kneeled, moving the gun so he had it held correctly. Just look through the scope right here, and choose your target.” He did as you said, finding a target now quite as far off as yours had been, but still a lot further than he’d ever shot. “Okay, I got one.” You laid back down next to him. “When you’re ready, pull the trigger.”

Yoongi pulled the trigger, sighing as he missed his target. He moved the gun down. “It’s okay, try again. This time don’t focus on the head. Choose somewhere bigger like the chest. When you’re ready, take a slow deep breath in and as you breathe out, pull the trigger.” He nodded, looking through the scope again and lining up with a target. “Deep breath.” He took a deep breath in, holding it for a second from nerves. As he breathed out he pulled the trigger, hitting the infected in the chest. “I hit it!” He said with a smile. You nodded, “With a bit more practice, you’ll be shooting them right between the eyes.”

He chuckled as you gave him a cheesy grin. He leaned in and pecked your lips. “You’re cute.” You smiled, giving him a peck in return. “I know.” He laughed louder than he intended, you covering his mouth with a giggle as the infected looked around for the cause of the sound. You both chuckled as they continued pacing the area, giving up on the sound.

After awhile longer, you and Yoongi headed back to the warehouse to warm up. “Maybe next time I can teach you how to shoot a bow.” He rolled his eyes, chuckling, “That’s something I’m not too sure I’d be able to grasp. Jungkook on the other hand, he could just pick up the bow and be a pro.” You grabbed his hands, bouncing in front of him, “Please? It’ll be so much fun. You’ll never want to use anything else once you get the hang of it.” He laughed as you bounced with excitement, “Okay okay. For you, I’ll let you try and teach me.”

You grinned, moving back next to him as you approached the warehouse. When you walked in you both removed your gear. Yoongi wrapped his arms around you from behind, reaching around you to kiss your cheek, “That was fun. We should do it again soon.” You nodded, giggling as he kissed your cheek again. You turned in his arms, taking his face in your hands. “You were so cute when you got all pouty because you missed.” He gasped dramatically, “I am not cute! Take that back!” He tickled your sides, causing you to shriek and try to fight him off.

“No, I won’t! Yoongi! Stop it!” You said between laughs. As you slid out of his grasp you ran to the other side of the couch, creating a distance between you. He laughed, “Take it back.” You shook your head, smiling, “Never. You’re adorable.” You said as you mimicked his pouty face. “You’re so dead.” He said as he chased you around the couch. He continued chasing you around the room, both of you laughing the entire time.

You suddenly made a wrong move, backing yourself into a corner. Yoongi approached with a smirk, putting both hands on the wall on either side of your head to stop you from moving. “Take it back.” You shook your head, “Never!.” He moved his face in closer to yours, “Take. It. Back.” Smirking again as you started to get nervous. Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes, “Make me.” He brushed his lips against yours, eyes darkening as he looked into yours. “Make you?” You nodded, breath hitching as his lips ghosted over your own. “I can do that.”

His lips crashed into yours, your hands moving around his neck, pulling him closer against you. He moved his hands down, reaching for the back on your thighs as he lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently. He groaned against your lips, fingers digging into your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you on the bed gently, crawling over you, lips never moving from yours. His hands roamed your body, appreciating every curve. His lips trailed down to your neck, sucking and softly nipping here and there, markings you as his. He moved back up, reattaching his lips to yours. You moaned against his lips as his fingers dug into your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist so he could flip you over.

When you were on top, you took advantage of his exposed neck, doing to him what he had done to you, making him as yours. He groaned softly as you reached his sensitive spot. You continued your work on that spot as his hands travelled up and down your body. You kissed his lips again, his hands slowly moving up under your shirt. You were lost in the moment until his hand moved up your side, just under your ribs.

His lips brushed against yours, hand still on your side, “What is that?” You gasped suddenly, pushing his hands away as you moved off him quickly. Your eyes were wide and you were breathing heavily. He sat up, looking at you with concern. “Y/n?” You panicked, smoothing down your shirt as you looked away from him. “Y/n, what was that?” You didn’t reply, which made him even more concerned. “Y/n?” You shook your head, standing up from the bed, “It’s nothing.”

He stood up, walking over to you, “It’s not nothing if you’re upset over it.” You backed away from him, looking down. “You should go.” He looked as you in disbelief, “I’m not leaving you.” As he stepped towards you, you stepped back again. “Y/n, what’s going on?” You shook your head, “Yoongi you need to leave!” Your eyes were brimming with tears as you avoided eye contact, arms wrapping around yourself in defence. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on right now.”

“You won’t understand, Yoongi! It’s better if you just go!” Your tone was harsh but he took no offence. If anything, he was just confused. “You don’t know how I’m going to feel if you don’t tell me what it is. I’m not leaving you like this.” He reached out to you, causing you to tense up. He sighed, “Something is seriously wrong and you’re scaring me. Please don’t make me force it out of you.”

Your head shook again, “I can’t.” You turned to walk away but you were stopped as Yoongi grabbed your arm and pulled you into him. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.” You looked up at him, his own eyes brimming with tears of worry. You squeezed your eyes shut, “I can’t..” He walked you back until you were against the wall, holding both your wrists in front of you with one hand. “Yoongi..” His eyes were soft as he looked at you, his free hand on your waist. “Just let me look.”

You hands were shaking as he let go of your wrists, looking up at you apologetically before he took the hem of your shirt in his hand. Tears rolled down your cheeks as he slowly pushed up your shirt. “What is..” He dropped your shirt, eyes wide as he backed away from you. “Yoongi, it’s not what you think!” He held his hands out in front of him to stop you as you stepped forwards.

His eyes were trained where he had seen it, a million thoughts running through his head. “You were bitten?” He said, almost inaudibly. Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at him trying to step forward again when he stopped you. “It’s not what you think, please let me-“ He shook his head, staring at you in disbelief. “You got bit and just hid it from me?” You hiccuped, “It’s not like that.” He glared at you, eyes piercing daggers through your own, “THEN WHAT IS IT LIKE?”

You whimpered, taking a step back as he yelled. You looked down, staying quiet as he stared at you. He shook his head, walking out of the room quickly. You ran after him, “Yoongi wait!” He threw his bag over his shoulder, “Stay away from me.” He growled as he opened the door. You stood in shock, your heart breaking as you watched him walk out and slam the door behind him.

[creative-writings]

Twenty-Three

Integra often thought about death. It was hard not to when one was surrounded by it, striving toward it every day. Today, those thoughts were on those soon to die in Délit. Perhaps, some of those who were likely already dead.

Délit was a large, intoxicated part of Laimira’s precious wine industry. Though most days it wasn’t a jovial intoxication. No Dionysian celebration. It was the daily slog of determined alcoholism. Getting drunk on wine, and the 2nd day re-invigoration of the feeling with the first glass of water. People drinking themselves into quiet, pitiful unconsciousness in the damp streets to be ignored by others. Passed by. Unbothered. It was safe to assume rifling through their pockets wouldn’t bring about any worthwhile yield anyway.

Integra skirted around a bit of refuse on the street, then over the legs of a man that was laying slumped into a halfway sitting position against a wall, mumbling to himself. The beginning drizzle was going to wash it away, into the gutter with the man’s remaining dignity. “I abhor coming into the city,” she muttered to herself as she continued on through the network of streets toward the Finean temple.

It was no wonder this city was considered by one of them to be a fertile hunting ground. There were always people milling about, not one of them paying any attention to their surroundings any more than they absolutely had to until they made it back to their own little neighborhoods. People spent their workdays marching, drunk and zombie-like, toward the next day. Even the more respectable citizens simply knew better than to wander out in the streets too much outside of festival days. No one would notice a few people going missing here or there because they were determined not to.

The general filth and depressing energy for the majority of the year was most of the reason she practically refused to step foot onto the uneven streets of Délit. That, and she simply couldn’t stand people in general. But, she had to do something here, so she had to be on these streets, in the damp, getting gods-only-know-what on her boots, and going to the worst places in town. On purpose.

She had to keep her eye out for any sign that the creature she was here to hunt really was present. It could have been just a random serial killer, of course. Regular people were capable of much worse than one would generally assume. The missing people could just be alive, kept somewhere for some purpose or other, too.

The sad truth of this situation was that very few cared about what was happening to the missing people. It wasn’t them, so why should they? The police wouldn’t investigate such disappearances. They considered it a waste of resources. They wouldn’t get any extra pay for it, so why bother? The only sadness for the events they held was that the nobles to whom the missing people were in debt would not gain returns on their money.

The largest of these lenders was the duke: Leofric Farlight. He was a disgusting, gluttonous, lustful jackass. Most half-elven nobles kept their heads low, but he stuck his nose into everyone’s business and spread his findings with impish delight.

So, Integra was here, investigating in the dead of night since the police wouldn’t, and hoping that His Grace wouldn’t cause any problems just for the fun of it. If he began gossiping, she would have a harder time. It will make its way around the whole city somehow, and the possible vampire would hear of it. She tugged her hood up a bit more and plodded on through the drizzle.

The majority of them were being taken from in front of the temple, just a bridge away from Estrose: the red-light district. Somewhere in the pointed arches, or perhaps even in the steeple attempting to get out of the wind and rain, was an orc by the name of Hugo Arsenault.

—

Hugo was Integra’s right-hand man, her informant, eyes, ears, and – though Integra would never admit it- her closest confidant. His job was to watch for another ‘event’ tonight. Keep an eye on the movements of people in the square, reach out to the lady if he has noted anything suspicious. Easier said than done in Délit.

The man breathed out a sigh as he reached into the basket beside him for the flask he had brought and took a sip. If the lady wanted him out in this drafty belfry, he was going to at least sneak a few drinks of something to keep him warm. His steely gray eyes searched through the square. There were not many people about. He assumed it was because of the rain or the temperature outside. It was almost the wintry mid-year solstice, and people sought shelter in pubs and homes when they didn’t absolutely have to be out and about.

Hugo felt a small pang of jealousy as he desperately tried to keep from the wind. But a job was a job, and it couldn’t be avoided. He took a second to jot down a few notes.

He’d made it a habit to take constant notes whenever he had a chance. With how often he had to just know things, it had become a necessity. His family had not been in her service for so long because they didn’t live up to expectations.

The page in front of him read:

Missing Persons- Exclusively women – numbering in the twenties.

All young women, mostly human. Seemingly abducted at a rate of two per week.

No bodies found, though the rate of abduction remains steady. Spawn is unlikely, as suspicious deaths would have increased with the population.

Well, that wasn’t much to go on, but he’d manage. That was his job, after all. He almost laughed to himself as the thought crossed his mind. Yes, his job. It seemed his job was never quite complete, and even after all these years he could never quite tell what his duties were. It was always expanding. He reached beside him for the binoculars he’d brought up and took a look about. It was starting to rain, forcing the few stragglers to run for cover. Well, those that cared about getting wet. And then there was a coach. It was moving through the city quite quickly and if Hugo wasn’t looking, he might have missed it. The black body of the coach nearly blended in with the night as it raced through the streets. He could swear it was heading toward Estrose.

He reached into his pocket and fumbled with a little orb kept there, pulling it out. “Lady Erzeiros, where in the city are you?”

“I have just crossed into the Estrose district,” came the reply, slicing through his mind with all the cold precision of an ice pick. He needed desperately to look into more enjoyable forms of communication. There was something about the psychic methods that made his head pound. “Tell me you have something of note.”

“Nothing concrete as yet.”

“Then keep your attention on task, will you?” And then that small, stinging pain pulled itself out of his head. It was strange how, even though she was communicating psychically, Hugo felt that he could still hear the irritation that laced her short reply. He sucked his teeth- a feat for one with tusks- and looked back through the binoculars at the misty, dimly lit streets. In the beginning trickle of water in the gutters, he could swear he saw all of his free time for the next week wash away.

How lucky would he have to be to, for once, see the monster they were hunting on the first night? Just one time… Very; and unfortunately his luck was never quite so good. The coach took a sharp turn to the right toward Maîtrisaide, and the slim chance of a lead disappeared with it.

He set the binoculars to the side and leaned back against the wall behind him, reaching up to smooth some stray hairs away from his face and back toward his ponytail. “Fineas’ beak…” he huffed to himself. “In this weather, I would not be surprised if we saw no signs. It would take an absolute madman, or a desperate one, to be out and about at this time, and in this rain.” With the rate of the disappearances it seemed tonight or tomorrow were most likely. Though to be safe, he would be stuck here when not at the side of his Lady for the next week or until they found something.

When you want something done properly, do it yourself. Or, send Hugo Arsenault.

—

The maze of streets did not, despite their best efforts, turn Lady Erzeiros around. She’d walked these streets much more often than she would like to admit over the years. She’d walked past the houses and businesses that made the most direct bridge across the River Porter into a cramped and winding nightmare. Furthermore, she’d gone to a mass in the center Temple to Fineas, that elusive bastard, and patronized many of the merchants in the Westmarc district. As much as she liked to still think of herself as a citizen of Ofril, she knew Délit better than she could hope to remember any city in her homeland now. It made this city all the worse against her senses.

Currently, the offending tract of land was Estrose. Crossing into it over the bridge, she was bathed in a rosy glow from a nearby building’s lanterns, highlighting the sign hanging above the door. The Dragon’s Den. For a moment, she hesitated. It would be wise to go and ask about the disappearances here, correct? This was the brothel. All the young women that had gone missing were connected to this one. It was the most popular in town. Most of the cash flow from other brothels even directed itself through here.

She walked up to the door and paused, reaching for the handle. This type of place was the last she wanted to pay a visit to. Perhaps that was why she was able to focus with laser intensity on the small silver placard next to the door bearing a coat of arms. An excuse, perhaps, but she found it justifiable. It was Duke Farlight’s insignia. If she stepped foot in there, he would know. More importantly, he would know she was conducting inquiries rather than looking to conduct business within the walls of the pleasure-house.

She stepped back and brushed her hand over her coat pocket briefly, clicking her tongue as if to prove to herself that she was anything but relieved. Well, the night was still young. If she stayed in the area she would be able to find someone to tail and observe discreetly instead. Observation was so much better than questioning anyway. People lied with their lips, but actions always spoke a material truth that could be trusted. Before she could turn and go completely, however, a swift tap was delivered to her shoulder. She whirled around, coming face-to-face with a woman a few inches taller than she. She was young, probably in her early twenties, blonde, blue eyes, seemed human.

“I don’t mean to rush you but if you don’t mean to go inside yet, might I slip by you, madame?” she asked, a tentative smile stretching over her lips as her eyes flickered away from Integra’s face and to her hand as it rested on the hilt of her weapon. She looked back up to make eye contact and only slightly raised her brows. Her Southern Laimiran accent was thick, sounding as though there was a wad of cotton in the back of her mouth. Each muscle in her face moved in precise and exaggerated ways Integra hadn’t seen prior to occupying this gods-forsaken city. While unsettled by the dagger’s possible threat, she didn’t seem surprised or nearly so fazed as Integra would have liked, placing the girl firmly in the category of ‘belonging here’. The girl had more important matters to attend to and no moment to be halted by a stranger with a knife if she could help it.

Integra averted her gaze and lowered her hand to her side, taking a step aside and mumbling a quiet “excuse me,” as the woman stepped by and went inside. So much for being discreet.

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Cold Vodka, Warm Hands (N.R.)

Words: 1.6k

The icy wind whipped across my face as I peered through the scope. The frigid metal of the Barrett M82A1 felt comforting in my hands. The cold never bothered me, of course. Due to my pyrokinesis, I had complete control over my own body temperature.

There wasn’t a sound for miles and, somehow, it was both peaceful and unnerving. The snow crunched with any and all movement, so we were staying unbearably still. I slowly scanned the abandoned factory for our target; a Russian arms dealer who was planning on stealing some alien tech and selling it for profit. We were about 1,500 yards from the factory. There’s not much cover out here, so our choice of positions was very limited. The shot would be a difficult one, with the distance and the crosswinds, but this is my specialty. Well, it used to be, before I discovered my ability to manipulate heat and fire. I’m one of SHIELD’s best sharpshooters.

As I checked once more for the target, a chattering noise distracted me from my task. I pulled my face away from my rifle to look at my partner, who was laying next to me, prepared to range the target and gauge the wind. Her lips were turning a shade of purple, and her teeth were chattering from the cold.

“Are you okay, Agent Romanoff?”

“Mhm.”

“Sure. Aren’t you Russian?” She leveled me with a hard glare and I slightly raised my hands in the air and went back to my task.

I noticed some movement through the scope. “Target, 11 o’clock.” 

“Oblique wind from the left, 8 miles per hour,” she called out.

I adjusted the scope accordingly and took the shot. Clean kill. No witnesses. Objective complete. I quickly unloaded the rifle and slung it over my shoulder as Agent Romanoff packed up. To say I was relieved the mission was over would be an understatement; this woman is practically a walking gay panic, and the mission had done nothing to help with my not-so-small crush on her. I risked a glance at her as we walked side by side. She looked freezing. Her right hand was in her pocket, but her left was exposed since one of her holsters blocked the left pocket.

“Is there any particular reason you’re staring at me, Agent y/l/n?” Shit.

“Oh, I- uh, I- um, can I hold your hand?” Her head snapped around to look at me as I realized what I said. “I just mean that, um, you look really cold and I can, you know, warm up your hand, at the very least. With my p-powers.” She didn’t say anything as she blankly stared at me, and I was worried that I had crossed a line until she abruptly stuck out her hand. I stared at the appendage for a second before realizing what she meant. I grabbed her hand in mine and focused on my powers, being careful to not let my hand get too hot.

We walked hand-in-hand the whole way to the safehouse. I could hear her sniffle every once in a while, but I didn’t say anything out of fear of getting punched. As we entered the safehouse, I realized it was more of a shack than anything. The walls were plywood and the whole thing was only one room. The kitchen area had a couple of cabinets and a small gas stove, and there was only one fairly small bed, as well as a small fireplace.

“Huh. This is…”

“Horrible. This is really horrible,” she finished for me. I couldn’t help but notice how nasally her voice sounded. 

I slid the bags off her shoulders and set them down next to mine. She sent me a questioning look as I walked her to the edge of the bed and sat her down. I said nothing as I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Sit here. Don’t move. Please.”

I walked around the room, lighting the oil lanterns. I grabbed some firewood from the pile and stacked it in the fireplace, using my powers to light a fire. I went into the ‘kitchen’ and rummaged through the cupboards. I heated a can of soup in my hands and poured it into a bowl. I found some teabags and heated some water the same way, since it was faster.

I brought the tea and soup over to Natasha, placing them on the stand next to the bed. She made no move to grab either item, too busy looking at me with a bewildered expression.

“What? You need to warm up. You’re already getting sick.”

“Why are you taking care of me?” She asked as I helped her move up against the headboard and under the covers.

I handed her the soup and said, “Well, you’re my partner— on the mission, I mean. It’s my job to protect you...on the mission.”

She hummed and I left to hang up our clothes to dry. I grabbed the second bowl of soup and sat in the bed next to her, as far away as physically possible.

“I don’t bite, you know. You can sit closer. You’re gonna fall off the bed,” she said amusedly.

“Right, sorry. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable, minus the fact that it’s still freezing in here.”

After we finished our soup, we went to bed since there was nothing else for us to do. I was woken up in the middle of the night by Natasha’s fit of sneezing and coughing. I sat up and patted her back as she coughed. That sounded painful. I got out of bed and brought her a roll of toilet paper since there were no tissues. I made her another cup of tea before getting back in bed. I could see her shivering as she sipped the hot beverage, and I had an internal debate with myself. Before I could chicken out, I slid closer to her and wrapped my arms around her, focusing on my powers.

“What are you doing?” She asked through her chattering teeth.

“Warming you up,” I replied simply.

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.” She stopped protesting after that and continued drinking her tea. Once she was done, she set it on the stand. She snuggled further into my arms and we moved to lay down. I felt her breathing even out as her muscles relaxed. I fought off the exhaustion; if I fell asleep, my body would return to its normal temperature. I tried not to freak out at the feeling of having in her arms, knowing that after this mission, we’d go back to being just teammates.

Morning rolled around and I watched the sky lighten through the only window in the safe house. I hadn’t left the bed all night, aside from the two times I added wood to the fire. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Natasha stirred in my arms.

“Morning,” she rasped out. Oh my god, her morning voice is gonna be the death of me.

“Uh, morning,” I replied, clearing my throat. She sat up and looked over my face, suddenly making me very self-conscious.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uh, no, not really. I stayed awake to keep my body warm for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that, y/n.”

“No, it’s— I didn’t mind. Do you feel any better?”

“Well, I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. It’s still cold as hell, though. You know what I really need?”

“What?”

“Some nice, cold vodka,” she said with a small, genuine smile.

“Oh! I have some of that!”

“You brought vodka on a mission?” She raised an eyebrow as her lips curved into a smirk.

“Yes— no, well, kind of. I bought it on the way here. Nothing like Russian vodka, right?”

I walked over to my duffel bag and pulled out the bottle of vodka. I grabbed two mugs from the kitchen, as well as a package of crackers. I slid back into the bed and she raised an eyebrow at the crackers.

“What? I’m not letting you drink vodka on an empty stomach. I don’t wanna get puked on,” I said with a joking grimace, although I really didn’t want to get puked on. 

She laughed as she poured some vodka into the mugs. I opened the crackers and set the package on the bed, and she handed me one of the mugs.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” I said, then we clinked the mugs together and I grimaced at the burn.

“Ugh, why does it have to be so cold? Can we just stay in bed?” That is definitely the closest Natasha Romanoff has ever gotten to whining, and it was adorable.

“Well, our extraction isn’t until this afternoon, so yeah, for a while.” She pushed herself back into my body, and I wrapped my arms around her after recovering from the brief shock.

Three hours later, we were packing up and getting ready to hike to the extraction point. I put out all of the lanterns before leaving the safe house. Natasha stuck out her hand and I wrapped it in mine without hesitation. It wasn’t all that cold out anymore, but I didn’t say anything about it. We made it to the extraction point in about thirty minutes, her hand never dropping mine. The SHIELD jet came into view and landed in the clearing in front of us. I couldn’t stop the twinge of sadness at the fact that we were leaving. It was selfish, but I loved taking care of Natasha these past two days.

As the gate of the jet dropped, Natasha spoke in a sultry voice, “Thank you, Y/N, for keeping me warm.” She kissed my crimson cheek before sauntering onto the jet. I snapped out of my daze and followed her, trying and failing to keep my composure.

[sweetpxxches]

I got time. [Hank x AFAB Reader]

Contains: Smut, fluff, mild blood stuffs.

The reader is AFAB but goes by gender neutral pronouns. 

The first fic I post here and it’s just me being a simp for Hank as of late my lords above don’t look at me and my shame but enjoy it anyway LMAO

Somewhere, in Nevada, settles a group of mercenaries that managed to crawl their ways into a hideout where there was a scarce amount of grunts and guards that were on the hunt for them. You were there, laying flat on a worn down couch breathing lightly, though wincing through your teeth every once in a while as Sanford was bandaging a gashing wound on your back. You cursed under your breath unsure of how long the pain was going to last, the feeling of your skin burning was unbearable, but alas it finally was over when Sanford lightly patted your hip and getting off of you with a “You’re good to go,” and turning over to Deimos who was asking for a smoke. It’s been a rough week, with Hank going solo in most of his tasks there wasn’t a lot to hope for at the end of the day. But knowing him, he’s certainly doing just fine and if more, having the time of his life doing what he loves most. Sometimes you wonder if he even thinks about you. “Hey, Mercenary.” Deimos called out to you. You sat up grumbling, rubbing the now bandaged wound as you turned to gaze over Deimos, who was slumped by a window, legs spread apart on a chair puffing smoke out to the direction of the open window.

“Yeah?” Was all you could say. Deimos held his cigarette in his mouth, using his hands to gesture out the window. With that silent statement was all you needed to know that Hank’s finally made his way back to his crew. You sprung up only to pause midway from the stabbing pain you forgot existed, and held your side to keep going forward. “Settle down, hot shot. I’m sure Hank’s coming in on his own.” Deimos snickered, puffing the smoke through his mouth as he tips his hat over his eyes, leaning back to relax. You pouted at him, but your head jerked back when you heard the door open, Hank standing there to see his crewmates doing just fine. Immediately, you rushed over to hug the behemoth of a man who you could only level at his chest. Because of the tough muscle, it didn’t really make Hank budge much from you just practically attempting a tackle-hug on him. “Hey, you.” Hank simply stated, ruffling your hair as he closed the door behind him. “I haven’t heard from you in a while, but that’s what I’d expect since I’ve been fucked over a few times from those grunts.”

“Good to see you back, Hank.” Sanford welcomed, who was cleaning his hook by Deimos. “Anything new?” “Just a few files of past conversations between Sheriff, Jebus, and the Auditor.” Hank held up folders, tossing them over to Sanford as he slumped into the couch you sat on before, stretching back and leaning his head back. “I’m starting to wonder where these fuckers are making their planned dates these days, just seeing them talk all that talk and yet have their dogs do all the dirty work annoys me.” Sanford huffed, looking down at his weapon. “Yeah well, it keeps them busy being idiots while we find more about what’s going on behind the scenes with them. How’s the conditions with everyone?” Hank asked. “Deimos nearly lost a leg, but he’s recovering, Mercenary’s back got gashed but I handled the wound, nothing too extreme. I did fine so far.” Sanford replied, though Hank looked over to you. “Shit, you getting rusty with the whole ‘look behind’?” Hank teased, poking your head as you puffed your cheeks.

“Don’t start playing with me, it’s bad enough that I’m hurt as it already is.” You retorted, settling back down on the couch, cursing under your breath once more as you felt the stinging. Though you couldn’t help but personally scoff at Hank’s obvious worries being plastered as banter. He’s not really the type to show his worries over anyone, even to his closest comrades. Deimos hummed, looking over to Hank. “Hey, you think we can call this a small break for us all? I’m beat.” You sighed, nodding at his response. “Yeah, Deimos is right, I’m exhausted, and I ain’t going to run around with this back ache.” It wasn’t long until Hank lazily waved off of the statements. “Alright, alright, I’m sure we can call this a night for us all.” With that, the group sighed in relief. “Thank God, in that case I’m gonna go call it a night, I ain’t gonna miss this opportunity of sleep.” Deimos stated, hopping off his seat as he burned out his cigarette, flicking it off to the floor. Sanford watched him leave, and began to sit up himself. “I’ll be spectating the area, that way in case anyone gets too close I’ll take them down and give you guys the que.” He stretched, grabbing his hook and a rifle in both hands making his way out the door. Deimos went upstairs, and Sanford was outside. Which then left you and Hank.

It was kind of awkward at first, you weren’t sure what you wanted to say or even do, but Hank looked over to you. “What about you? You’re the one that’s been complaining all night.” He smirked, and you lightly shoved him. “Oh, shut up. I don’t have time for your uncalled for bullying.” You joked, but he seemed to be watching your every move. You weren’t so sure if this was just him taking the joke too seriously, or there’s something going on his mind. But he shrugged it off, leaning on the other side of the couch, hands behind his head. “You talk too much sometimes, you know that, right?” “Look who’s talking.” You crossed your arms, raising a brow. Where was he even going with this? You weren’t sure. Or were you overthinking things? Then again, just look how he’s behaving, it’s almost as if...

“Hey, eyes up here.” Hank tilted his head, raising a brow back at you. You snapped out of it, cheeks flushed. “Hey, shut up!” You didn’t even know what to say for yourself other than you may be looking at Hank a little more than you should. It was a moment of silence, you looking away and leaning on the other side of the couch, ignoring Hank’s curious gaze. His red tinted glasses shined, and he sat up. “Hey, you’ve been acting pretty weird as of late. What’s going on in your mind, Mercenary?” He asked. You turned your head to him, “Nothing! I’ve just been stressed and exhausted from all of this, don’t you know how tiring it is at times? Actually, don’t answer that. You’re never tired.” You then turned back, but Hank scoffed at you. “Someone’s feisty. Listen, I can get a good guess as to why you’re acting this way, and it’s because you missed me, wasn’t it?”

Oh, you hated how right he was. With a furrowed brow, you eyed at him, but not turning completely just yet. “What’s it to you?” You simply put, and he knew where this was going. “Listen Merc, I know you hate my guts whenever I turn away from you, but I promise ya it isn’t because I want to, it’s just I’m a busy guy.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, and your tension let loose immediately. “I know Hank, but it’s just it’s hard to do things without you.” You then turned completely to him, who was already close to your face, and that caught you by surprise. “What, can’t do things on your own, sweetheart?” Pet names. He’s giving you pet names now. May Jebus save your soul now. “It’s not that, it’s just...”  “It’s just what?” He continued, fixing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t even make eye contact to hose red tint shades. “It’s just... I miss you too much to last without you for that long, Hank.” You finally admitted, sighing in defeat. Hank lifted your chin, and tugged you close. “Babe, it’s okay. I promise you that’ll be the last time I keep you away.”

“For now, isn’t it?” You replied.

It was silence at first. “Yeah. But it’s the thought that counts, right?” Hank said, and you couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, even if it hurts to know he might do this again eventually. But that’s later, and this is now, and you can tell Hank is thinking the same way. It wasn’t until he tugged his bandana off his chin, revealing that grotesque zombie-looking metal jaw. But to you, you found that the best thing about him. “How about I’ll make it up tonight with something special?” Hank brushed his nose against yours, feeling your soft breath against his. “... But aren’t you going to be busy?”

“I got time. Take that armor off, Mercenary. I’m gonna make up those days I missed you.” Did he just admit he missed you just as much?

You couldn’t even process that, because Hank immediately filled the gap to give you a somewhat sloppy kiss, of course with him lacking lips, you couldn’t really make way with it, but that’s not what he had in store, it was that tongue he holds. You shuttered as you felt it glide across your lips, wanting to get into your mouth. You didn’t hesitate until you began unbuckling your hefty armor, letting Hank take over. You gasped as he slid his tongue passed your lips, his drool dripping onto your chest but you couldn’t care, the mess wasn’t gonna get any cleaner anyway. His massive figure mounted above you as you leaned back onto the couch, letting his large hands gently caress your sides as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. However, despite it, you flinched at the wound causing you pain, but Hank knew he had to be careful with it. He didn’t want you to hurt throughout, so he decided to keep his hands gentle on the grip of your sides. 

His tongue reached every inch of your mouth, circling it with your own tongue as you grew desperate for him to touch you further. You held your head back as he began to bite down on your shoulder, hands beginning to venture more around your body.

“Hey, you won’t be getting just war scars now, huh?” Hank joked. “Just shut up and fuck me up, Hank.” You ordered. That hit a certain spot in Hank, making him want to do just exactly that. He didn’t hesitate any further, grabbing your bottoms with a swift tug down, letting you move your legs to take them off. He wasn’t the type to take off his own clothing, but when it comes to his partners, that’s a different story. He kept one hand on your hip as the other made way under your lower garments, large digits gently caressing your slit as he kept his head nestled between your neck and shoulder, enjoying your scent as well as your soft sounds. “Didn’t take long for you to get that wet, huh? Just how long have you been thinking about me? About this? You’re a wonder, Merc.” Hank teased, biting your ear as his two fingers spread your slit open, making you gasp as his middle finger lightly rubbed your clit. He wasn’t the most experienced, but when it comes to trying to find the right spot, he does it well. The feeling of your lower hips jolt as he kept a caringly pace with rubbing your clit had him wish he could devour you whole, but patience was what he needed. 

Hank leaned back, moving himself down to position himself between your legs, your gaze almost begging for him to continue, and it wasn’t long until he took your beckoning as his long yet slender tongue made way to press against your cunt. You held your head back, keeping your volume low so you don’t get Deimos’s attention. But with the feeling of Hank’s wet tongue circle around your clit more efficiently than his fingers did, it was hard to keep it to yourself. It was a little bit of a hassle knowing there’s really nothing there you could get a hold of on his head, with a lack of hair and all, but there was an attempted to hold his head down, making him grunt as he knew what you’re asking for. His tongue slid down, pressing itself inside your cunt. The feeling of it made you quiver, Hank feeling your walls shutter from the tension his tongue was giving. This man was practically spoiling you, feeling your toes curl as you raised your hips at Hank, but he held you down so he can do most of the work. A fair share between you two, and you were already getting at your limits. Hank noticed your body shaking up, and he held back himself once more only to hear you whimper. Gods, he loved how sweet you could be. “Easy there, I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” Hank settled himself between your legs once more, this time he was unbuckling his belt and proceeding to unzip his pants. You bit your lip as you saw his large girth of a cock was pulled out, it was obvious he was growing impatient. He settled your legs around his hips, of course keeping mind about your wound. It was adorable how caring he can be with you.

He leaned over, his head pressing against yours as he began to position himself against your wet entrance, you didn’t even know what to say. Just seeing him above you, his muscular figure taking hold of you and taking what is yours his own, it drove you crazy. But he wasn’t being selfish with his affection, he knew he needed you just as much as you did. You held onto his shoulders, embracing it as his cock head pressed against your cunt, then slowly and surely, it broke way inside you. You winced, his hands on your hips to keep you put. “Are you doing alright there, Merc?” Hank whispered in your ear. You could only nod, and by god you didn’t want to speak any time soon. If you opened your mouth, you’d be gasping and moaning, and it’s already a chore keeping it down. Hank’s chuckle was heard, a low rumble in his chest as he began to move his hips slowly and carefully. You kissed his neck, feeling yourself stretch from his large girth, it was surprising you could of even managed to handle it this well. Hank could hear your small moans, and he hoped the volume will get louder, not caring if the other mercenaries could hear them. “Come on, Merc. I know you have a lot more in you, don’t have to be shy.” Hank cooed, his hands brushing up to give your breasts a soft squeeze, you looked away, trying to ignore him. But this just gave him a challenge.

“Merc, come on.” He spoke up, his hands now sliding under your shirt to fondle your breasts better, your cheeks flared up with a crimson red as he began to pick up the pace. The wet sounds of his body meeting against your own was growing loud, the sheer lewd sounds was driving you both wild. You couldn’t help but hold your head back, a moan escaping your lips. “That’s it, just like that. C’mon and do it louder.” Hank retorted, as his hands went back to your hips, moving your body against his, letting his whole shaft reach the ends of you. Your eyes widened, a loud squeak was heard out of you, and it made Hank laugh. “Good, that’s what I wanted.” Hank snarled, his pace now getting vigorous and desperate. He wasn’t slowing down for you, and you tried to grab his back, clawing at what you could. Now it’s finally reaching it’s point, you began moaning like no tomorrow, your volume was loud and you felt Hank became balls deep inside you, your walls tightening as he kept up the rough pace. “H-Hank, holy fuck Hank, calm down!” You plead, but he didn’t seem to hear you, the sound of the couch creaking as the hard wet slaps continued, you were seeing stars at this rate. But he wasn’t done, feeling himself get close, he placed one hand down to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to thrust. You groaned, feeling yourself beginning to come undone. “Cum for me, baby.” Hank requested, and you did what he told you to. Your body jolting as you reached a climax, but as you did so, Hank slammed himself deep inside you, releasing his thick warm ropes of cum inside you, the amount was overwhelming that it spilled out of you, your moans being muffled with Hank’s tongue making back way into your mouth.

It was a few moments, and Hank held his head and body to see his work. You were dazed, staring at the ceiling. “Seems like I overdid it, huh?” Hank asked, but you just weakly held up a thumbs up, simply saying “You did great.” As you grew limp, exhausted. Hank scoffed, slipping his cock out of you and watching the excess of cum leak out of you. As he pulled his cock in and zipped his pants, he scooped you up to take you upstairs. Settling your sleeping body on a bed, and he turned over to see a Deimos, disgruntled at them.

“Can’t you two be more fucking quiet next time?” Deimos stated, laying back down on his own bed. Hank could only chuckle at him. “Guess I’ll get louder next time just to spite your ass, Deimos.”

Meanwhile, Sanford outside could only be unsurprised at the fact you and Hank had fun while he was out drinking and keeping check of the area.

[acourtofsnakes]

Tor - Rogue, Chapter 3| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: A little bit of Mando pov for you all!! It’s a shorter chapter, just kind of the same as the previous but from our Space Dad’s point of view this time. Though there may be a little hint of your decision at the end…

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, swearing, angst? Hints of fluff?

AN: There’s a very small ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ reference to a certain Dornish prince and his nickname in here too. Wonder if you’ll find it? 👀

Also, thank you to @ithinkwehitametaphor​ for sending me the gif! i couldn’t for the life of me find it and you honestly saved my life 

Wordcount: About 3465

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar​  @weirdowithnobeardo​

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl ​

Mando’a Translation: Tor – justice 

He always thought it would end like this. Never in some big blaze of blaster fire or with his ship, but in some back alley, bleeding out, alone. 

Hell, maybe he deserved it. He’d killed enough people to warrant this end, slumped on the floor, too weak to save himself. 

He didn’t deserve a warrior’s death, a Mandalorian’s death. Not after all he had done.

Of course, it was his duty, his honour as a Mandalorian and a bounty hunter but… that sacred Creed did nothing to stop the thoughts that plagued him at night, the whispers that hissed in his ear during his waking hours. 

He almost laughed at himself. 

The Creed was all he had. 

Until…. Until the kid had come along. 

Until he saw that little wrinkly baby in the crib and… it had all changed. 

He couldn’t kill it, him, couldn’t take it back to the Client or his Clones. 

One look at that damn little silver ball, and eveyrhting went straight out the window. 

Fuck the Guild code. He would never kill a child, an innocent being that couldn’t even talk, could only make those little cooing sounds that even he had to admit were adorable. 

Rescuing him… it had given him something to live for. Something to fill his days and a reason not to go hurtling helmet first into danger with no regard for his own safety. 

Except… well, no. That wasn’t strictly true was it. He’d become more reckless since that moment, the rules that his bound his life for so long were slowly coming undone bit by bit. All of which made him so reckless, so… desperate?

You only had to look at the sheer amount of people lining up for his and the kid’s head to prove that. 

So maybe he didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but they were still alive, weren’t they? Had friends to help them if he needed it. 

In a short time, he’d gone from being Judge, Jury and Executioner, to being the person that people called when they needed help. Sometimes people didn’t even call him. He just showed up and offered his services. 

And truth be told… he liked it. He liked people looking at him with hope and admiration, rather than fear and jealousy. He liked the way people fussed over the kid, asking if Mando was taking good care of the child. Like they were a family. 

A Clan.

The sigil on his armour said as much. Him and the kid. A unit of two rogues. 

That’s what it all came down to, in the end. Everything was to keep Grogu safe. That’s why he stuck to the Outer Rim, taking jobs that would draw him further away from those that relentlessly hunting them, those who wanted to harm the Child. Besides, he needed the credits that came with the big jobs. Taking care of the little womp rat was expensive. Not to mention there was always something falling apart on his ship. 

So, when that guy in the hood had cornered him in the bar, given him the fob and told him about the bounty that no one could catch, he’d taken it without a thought. He’d had so many over the years that were supposedly uncatchable that the word had nearly lost its meaning. And this stranger had obviously sensed that, explained that it was true. Reeled off the sheer amount of hunters that had been sent that way, Imps, Trandoshans, Empire workers, IG-11 robots, even another Mandalorian. After hearing that list, Mando had expected some high-level bounty. An escapee from the deepest pits of the darkest prisons, someone who had done terrible, terrible things.

So… when he’d activated the puck, and the hologram of a woman’s face had come up… he was shocked. This woman… she was beautiful. Still young. She didn’t look like she bathed in the blood of her enemies, or killed children and babies, she looked… well, not exactly harmless. There was a glint in her eyes even on the hologram, a spark that warned of danger, promised pain to anyone that tried to hurt her. 

A survivor’s look. 

Something niggled at him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It might have been hesitation, but he ignored it. The bounty over her head was enough that he could take Grogu to one of those sanctuary planets and lay low for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. The kid deserved it, to be able to play and explore. 

And himself… Maker, he was just so tired. 

So, he’d pocketed the puck and the fob, didn’t ask who the client was, went back to the Crest and then he was on his way to Sorgan. 

Maybe it would take him a little longer than usual to bring the girl in, but it was nothing that he hadn’t done before. After all, stealing back the kid, breaking into a prison, everything else that had occurred recently… this was a walk in the park. 

He still believed that, right up to tracking you. Even when he chased you. 

He had to admit, he did love it when they ran, even if his back was killing him. 

Something about the chase, the frantic fear of the prey as he hunted them down, the conclusion inevitable. It thrilled him. 

But… this felt.. different. 

You were different. You fought like it was a dance, whirling across the clearing and around his punches like there was a song only you could hear. And you were taunting him, laughing as you did. You lived for this, like you had been bred for it. No… you’d been shaped by it, shaped by the choice of cowering or turning into a wolf. A wolf, like those he’d seen in Lothal.

You were strong, you fought well, he had to give you that much. He knew he would have to work for it, but with the promise of safety lingering, he matched you move for move, determined to hold this out as long as it took. 

He’d read your file, read what had happened and used that to his advantage. The words had come easily, even though they had stirred something inside him, perhaps a mirror of the feelings he was encouraging in you. 

But then… then you just gave in. Straight away. And not like the others did. Not in the way that they had, thinking it would make him go easier, change his mind.

No, you had completely, utterly given up.  He saw it in your eyes. Saw that survivors glint gutter out, a wolf tamed back into her cage with her tail between her legs. 

And… it threw him. He had touched something, caught something deep within you as he taunted you. Something broken… that again whispered to his own deepest thoughts. Like calling to like. 

He’d ignored it, pushing that thought back into the part of his minds where his darker thoughts lay slumbering – for now. He’d carried you back to the Crest, shackled you to the wall and had made to leave you there. 

Only, he had seen that the wound on your shoulder was torn open again, ripped by your fight and his jamming with the rifle. It was bleeding through your tunic, and even with unconsciousness heavy in your body, you still looked somewhat pained. 

He’d hovered there, staring at the bleeding wound and having some kind of internal battle. 

It wasn’t fatal. It was just a recent injury that had torn open. You’d be fine. He nodded, turning around and making all of one step. 

But. A Trandoshan had been the last person to hunt you. They relished in the hunt, had probably fought dirty and used a poison. It might be infected. What if you died on his way back to dropping you off? Or got really, really sick?

Nevermind. The messenger for the Client stated you had to be brought back alive. Alive didn’t mean whole. He carried on walking, trying to focus again on something else… only to pause a couple of metres away. 

Help her. 

The Mandalorian had turned back around to look at you, a frustrated grunt slipping from his lips. He moved through the ship, grabbing a med-kit and then practically stormed back to you, nearly ripping your tunic as he’d eased up the sleeve. 

It wasn’t too bad, a deep wound but it hadn’t been infected, yet. He cleaned it up, spraying it with the last of his bacta-spray and binding it with the last strip of bandages. He’d have to get some more soon, dig up some credits from somewhere. 

A cruel reminder of why he took this job. What you were. A bounty. That’s all. 

Muttering a string of curses, he finished binding your wound, wrenching his hands away and then made his way back upstairs. 

A bounty. A means to an end. The way to getting a break that his aching body craved for. 

He was hunter. You were prey. 

That was the mantra he had to keep repeating to himself when he’d brought you up to the cockpit. 

Had to keep repeating when you were teasing him, which simultaneously ground on his nerves but also made his skin tighten in a way it hadn’t for a while. 

It had been a long time, so long since he’d that kind of verbal play with someone. 

Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had any kind of play with anyone. He just didn’t have the time anymore, not with Grogu and not when everyone knew who he was. How could you trust someone enough to sleep with them when nearly everyone wanted to kill you?

His new mantra had echoed in his head when you began to verbally poke at him, hitting home about being lonely. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you knew you’d hit a nerve. But thankfully you stopped. 

But not before that broken thing had called between you again. Your words were spoken with too much ease and casualness, someone who knew all too well the loneliness and starvation for touch and companionship. 

Maker, he had to get rid of you soon. 

It had almost been a relief to find the small bounty on this planet. You’d been asleep, the kid asleep too so he’d gone. He didn’t need to wake either of you up, you knew why you were here - he’d told you so this morning. 

Besides, it was a small planet, easy prey to catch when everyone here feared the dark. He’d be back in a few hours. 

With the way he was so wired, he’d probably be back in two. 

That’s the way it was meant to happen. 

Track down the bounty, disarm, bring him back, freeze him in carbonite and Mando would have you back in the sky before you’d even woken up. 

And it had happened that way initially. He followed the sharp tailed bounty from the fighting pits to a cantina. Had to sit and listen as he boasted about some girl he’d bedded the night before and had screaming his name. He then, of course, launched into detail of said night, drawling about this girl in such a derogatory way that it took all his training and restraint not to just shoot this creep in the head there and then and be done with it. 

But, the Mandalorian had endured it. Sat there for an hour or so and then followed him out into an alleyway. Mando kept hidden as the bounty had spoken to a friend, talking about another girl he’d seen. Apparently, this one was even better than last night. He had it on good authority that this girl would be game for anything he wanted to do and more. 

And then Spikey had started describing again, in detail, what he would do. And Mando had been disgusted, angry that this creep was talking about a woman this way, such sick and derogatory things. Spikey’s friend asked if this ‘slut’ had a name. 

And then…

Your name. That’s what he said. 

And that’s when it went wrong. 

Your name had barely come out of this animal’s lips when a red haze clouded over the Mandalorian. Everything in him screamed violence and his body went on autopilot, attacking this vile waste of space matter so quickly he hadn’t had time to breathe. Mando didn’t even notice the friend bolt, running away. He was just so focused on taking down the bounty, ripping him apart for what he’d said about you. This one would be brought in cold. He would say that it put up a fight, tried to kill him so Mando acted in self-defence. 

His previous mantra of the last two days was forgotten, overtaken by a need to defend you, make sure this guy stayed the hell away from you. Bring him down, freeze him in carbonite and get off of this planet. He fell back into that haze, relying on his skills and instincts. 

Except… except that when the haze cleared, he wasn’t leaning over the body. 

No, he was the one being pinned against the wall by the bounty, with a strength he hadn’t realised Spikey possessed. What the fuck was he?

Escape training came to him now, but before he could disarm and kill, the bounty began to spew those vile thoughts about you again. About how Mando was keeping you tied to a bed, for his own pleasure. How he was going to take you, ask to keep you, use you-

And then for the first time in his life, Mando forgot his training. He forgot about blocking and defensive maneuverers. He forgot about the myriad of weapons on his body, the Whistling Birds, the flame-thrower. 

He reached out in a blind fury to throttle this creep. 

He left himself open to attack. 

That was the first time he royally fucked up tonight.  

Pain had suddenly become a living thing in his side and waist as he slid down the wall, and then his only thought wasn’t of survival, it was of the kid, and you. 

You were back in the ship, both of you safe at least. Maybe you would know how to fly, know how to get yourselves out of there and run, escape. That’s what he’d hoped. You were smart, you were a survivor. You’d take the initiative and get yourselves out. Besides, he might not have admitted it, but he trusted you with Grogu. 

And then like he’d fucking summoned you… there you were. Launching into Spikey Tail’s side and getting him away. He could only watch as you engaged him in the fight, taunted him with that same tone you’d used on him. Only this time, he could watch you. 

Beautiful. 

There was no other word for it, as much as he might not have wanted to admit it. You fought like it was a dance, that prowling wolf in you giving way to a viper, striking and falling back with all the grace of dancers he’d heard about performing in Coruscant. 

He was almost breathless as he watched this deadly game – though that might have been the blood loss and blow to his head. 

He thought he might be sick when the sound of your ribs shattering bounced off the slick metal walls, the muffled cry of agony it tore from you. 

But still, the taunts kept coming, and he couldn’t help himself when you complained that Spikey Tail talked too much. You had possibly two broken ribs and yet you were still a cocky little shit. The impressed, huffing laugh that came from his lips was loud enough to be heard by you. 

And that was his second fuck up of the night. 

What started as an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest as you turned and smiled at him, had immediately frozen his lungs as Spikey slammed you against the wall, strangling you. 

Fear shot through Mando, colder than his body had begun to feel. He tried to get up, tried to help you but he couldn’t move. His limbs wouldn’t respond to him. 

He couldn’t save you. 

He was going to watch you die defending him. 

Just like his parents. 

No, no, no. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that, not again. He swore against his body, gathered every remaining ounce of strength that he had and reached for his blaster, just as those sick comments of degradation and ugly lust began to fall from your attacker’s lips. 

All he needed was to give you an opening, just one tiny opening and you would do the rest. 

Spikey’s lips were creeping toward yours, fear bursting in your eyes as you scrambled for the vibroblade sheathed against your thigh. 

An opening, that’s all he had to do. 

And he did. He managed to haul his body back from the edge of death long enough to shoot the guy in the back. 

You took your opening. 

He saw the flash of your vibroblade, heard the muffled, wet noise as it sunk into his bounty’s neck. 

The guy fell to the floor in a dead weight. You dropped too and he managed to see you gasp for air, assure himself you were mostly okay before that flame of energy guttered out so quickly, he saw stars. 

Darkness hovered around the edges of his vision as he felt his life slip through his fingers – literally, his other hand was pressed to his side in an effort to try and staunch it but he didn’t have the energy to. 

This was it then. 

The way he would go. 

Nothing noble, or heroic. 

Bleeding out in a back alley. The creatures in the dark would take him soon enough. 

At least you would be able to take the kid and run now. At least there was that. 

And then he felt hands knocking his way, significantly smaller hands push into the wound. He couldn’t even make a noise of pain; it didn’t hurt anymore. His vision cleared again and there you were once more, leaning over him with blood sprayed over your face, falling from a cut on your cheek. 

No. No. 

What were you doing?? 

You were supposed to escape. You were supposed to flee the mess he’d bought you into and take the kid and run. 

He tried to speak, to convey these thoughts to you but his lips had stopped responding. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. But somehow, it was like you got what he meant. 

Your hands began to lift, and he had a weak wave of relief that was marred by the fresh soaking of blood that oozed out of his side. How much had he lost now?

Too much, by the cooling temperature of his body and the trembling that had begun. 

He had come close to death before, so many times before but this felt different. This felt like he was losing something. Something that was just within reach but he hadn’t had the chance to grasp at yet. And it was being wrenched away, taken from him and trickling over the stones beneath him in a deep, scarlet puddle. 

Maybe he’d begun to hallucinate too, because you were back, leaning over him, hands pressed into him again like they could stop the blood. He lifted his eyes and something in him curled up and panged when he saw that you were already gazing at him. 

Gazing right into his eyes. 

How you knew where they were, how you looked through the blackened visor without seeing, he didn’t know. But he could read the war raging inside of you, the battle off stay or go. 

Go.

Mando tried to talk again, but only managed a faint noise, a croak that sounded so pitiful, he might have cringed at himself had he not started to hear a ringing in his ears. Time was nearly up, ticking away his life and that glimmer of something. 

So, he instead just looked at you. You were clearly not made up yet, so he did something selfish. 

He put his life in your hands. 

If you left him here to die, he deserved it. It was justice. Justice for every ounce of pain he’d caused. The grief he’d doled out to mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, children. 

Justice for the life of treachery he had all but dumped Grogu into. 

Justice for letting his parents die for him and not save them. 

But, if you let him live…

Then he would try harder. He would repent for his mistakes. 

He would make sure you were dropped somewhere safely. You couldn’t stay with him, he wrought death and destruction to those around him whether he meant it or not  

But he could take you somewhere safe, maybe to Greef and Cara. 

Then he would hunt down whoever came after you next, giving you the respite that he was going to keep for himself. 

They were the options. 

A deserved death, or a new determination to set right his mistakes. 

These thoughts swum through his hazy brain at a surprisingly rapid pace, only a few seconds worth of time as he still watched what you would do with this choice. He could see that you understood, understood the choice he had selfishly bestowed upon you. 

Only it was too late. 

Heavy darkness thundered over him in an unrelenting tidal wave and with a choked gasp, he was dragged under, so deep he might have imagined your arms winding around his battered body, hauling him to his feet as much as you could. 

His brain giving him one last reprieve, perhaps, or maybe a cruel taunt to what might have been before he was sucked under and everything went numb. 

Previous chapter| Next Chapter

[namariea]

Devil’s Advocate | I

“So for argument’s sake... let’s just say Do Kyungsoo really is the boring square you say he is..” 

“Don’t you want to find out what makes him tick?”

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Words: 4.4k

Genre: Romance, Slowburn, Smut

It started with a knock on your door.

“Jongin is coming over tonight, that cool?”

Looking up from your laptop screen, you stared at your roommate who was leaning against your doorway. Blinking slowly, you processed her words.

“Jongin is coming over.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“And will Mr. Kim be staying over?”

“That would be a correct assumption, yes.”

“Sleeping in your room.”

“Why, did you want him to sleep here with you? Not what I was expecting, but I’m all down for polygamy.”

With a sigh, you saved the document you were working on and began to close your laptop. Collecting the various papers and books scattered around you, you began to tuck them away neatly into your backpack. Sliding off of the bed, you walked the length of the room and began to rifle through your drawers, pulling out some clothes.

Frowning, Jennie walked over to you and looked over your shoulder as you began refolding them and putting them in a gym bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a paper I need to finish proofing for tomorrow and I highly doubt I will get any work done with the two of you going at it like animals.”

Jennie didn’t even look fazed at the comment, shrugging non committedly while throwing some pajama shorts your way. Rolling your eyes you passed through the joined bathroom and threw in your toiletries. As you were zipping up your bag a knock came at the door causing you to pause.

Well, that was fast.

Turning around, you looked at the brunette behind you with raised eyebrows, and only then she had the decency to look the slightest bit sheepish.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

With your roommate trailing at your heels blabbering about how you are the greatest roommate ever and how she owes you a life debt, you opened the front door and were greeted with Jongin holding what appeared to be a party sized bucket of KFC. Before he could open his mouth you stuck out your hand, waiting.

Blinking down at your outstretched palm, he gave you a confused look.

“Keys. Since you are kicking me out of my bed I’m taking yours”

Jennie snorted behind you as Jongin’s face split into a wide grin.

“You know, I always knew you were a great person.” fishing out his keys from his pocket he handed them to you.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you gave the couple a wave of your hand and began to make your way down the hall. You were halfway to the elevators when Jongin's loud voice stopped you.

“Oh by the way, Kyungsoo isn’t around tonight, so feel free to raid the fridge before he gets back.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jongin’s presence at your apartment wasn’t a new occurrence.

In the beginning, it was just him coming over during the day to help Jennie with her design assignments. Which was ok, amazing actually, since it helped her out a lot and saved you dealing with her stress meltdowns.

Then it progressed to Jongin appearing at your dinner table every Friday to partake in Chinese takeout nights. Which was fine, again, since he picked it up on his way over and pitched in. He also somehow was able to sweet talk the old woman who owned the store and managed to get extra egg rolls. Can’t go wrong with that.

It wasn’t until Jennie gave you the look while the older boy excused himself to use the bathroom after one said dinner that you took the hint.

Now, Jongin occasionally stays over during the weekends, where you would find him in the living room at ungodly hours watching the Pirates of the Carribean all the while eating a family sized package of oreo’s. Which was mildly perturbing on two counts. First, was the fact that this was probably the 5th time you’ve seen him watch that movie, and second, those were your oreos.

The final straw was not until the weekend that just past where you were woken up a loud banging. It was not until you were  halfway to Jennie’s door in a frantic scramble that your sleep deprived brain caught up with you and realized it was very much not a violent murder taking place in the room over.

Animals.

It was then you all agreed to establish some sort of door-sock system.

Which in essence was - if Jongin was coming over, it was probably best to just find somewhere else to crash.

You didn’t actually mind leaving as much as you thought you would. Jennie was one of your closests friends and it was clear as day that Jongin made her happy. You didn’t even mind hanging out with the guy, he was fun and always brought snacks in return for practically living at your place. Even if his tastes in movies were highly questionable.

It was just sometimes - like right now where you had a Business Ethics paper due at 7AM - where you needed all the quiet you could get.

Reaching the apartment, you slotted the key into the lock, you pushed open the door to Jongin and Kyungsoo’s apartment. Stepping through the threshold you were greeted by darkness.

Flicking on the lights you took in the apartment. You had been in the apartment a handful of times when Chanyeol threw parties, but this was the first time you had been there on your own, literally.

From the neatly organized coffee table to the dust-less surfaces as far as the eye can see, the state of the apartment very much reflected that of the other owner - there was no way anyone would believe the human tornado that was Kim Jongin lived here otherwise.

Speaking of the other owner -

“Kyungsoo?”

Thank goodness for small mercies.

Do Kyungsoo, best friend of Jongin and probably the biggest enigma you've ever met. Not only was he more reserved and mild tempered in comparison to his flatmate, but he was the only one in your mutual friend group that you couldn’t bring yourself to get close to.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, mind you. And to Kyungsoo’s credit he has never been rude to you, though you wouldn’t necessarily call it friendly either. Cordial at best...maybe. His deposition towards you, and apparently anyone who didn’t know him before the year 2015 was polite but distant. He was so different from the rest of his friends that one day Jennie had asked Jongin how he and Kyungsoo even lived together.

“We met freshman year-”  Jongin said while spooning a mountain of orange chicken onto his plate.

“We were paired up as roommates and we just clicked - Kyungsoo is a great guy, he’s actually pretty hilarious”

“Really?” Jennie leaned in, abandoning her lo mein to gape at the man next to her.

“Its true!” Jongin said defensively at her expression, “how do I explain it-"

"You kind of have to approach him first, and then see how he responds. He just needs time to warm up to you, you'll see."

Now, you weren’t sure if Kyungsoo had ‘warmed up to you’ yet, but you definitely saw the man’s look of disgust as he caught you making kraft dinner in the microwave that one time during finals last semester.

Hot tip - never make microwave kraft dinner in front of a Culinary Arts major.

Checking your watch and noting it was half past ten, you settled down cross-legged at the coffee table in the living room. Pulling out your laptop and notes, you organized it all in front of you before rolling your neck and flexing your fingers.

“Now, where was I-”

After what seems like the hundredth time going over the same words over and over again, desperately making sure you didn’t have any spelling mistakes and that your citations were all correct, you finally hit save for the last time. Tapping the screen of your phone you brought it up to your face as you leant back against the couch, squinting as the time appeared.

2:35 AM

Stretching, you lifted yourself from your sitting position and began packing your laptop and papers away.

Exhausted, you crawled your way up onto the couch, pulled the Captain America themed throw blanket over your tired body, and closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to take you.

Which should have been an easy task.

Except Jongin apparently decided to buy the cheapest couch in Ikea.

No wonder the man lived on your sofa, he has never known true comfort.

Huffing, you sat up begrudgingly, groaning as your body objected to the movement. You glanced down the darkened hallway and pursed your lips.

Taking your bags you began shuffling down the hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors that was ajar. Slowly pushing it open you hesitantly stuck your head in. The sight of the various Mangas scattered on the floor confirmed that you had found the right bedroom.

I mean, there are worse places to sleep.

Making your way further into the room, you kicked the door closed as you made quick work of stripping out of your clothes and changing into your pajamas. You all but dove into the bed, not caring that it was unmade or that you probably should have changed the sheets. A content sigh escaped you as you sank into the mattress, sleep taking over.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Waking with a start, you were momentarily disoriented as you took in your surroundings. Blinking blearily around, it took a few seconds to remember where you were and why your bed smelled like Old Spice.

Ah, right.

Groaning, you glanced at the window and took in the darkness still.

You tried to close your eyes in hopes that you would be able to catch a few more minutes of sleep. However, instead of slipping into blissful sleep you found yourself tossing and turning, body restless in any position you put it in.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes you lay there for a few moments. Blindly reaching towards the side table you fumbled with your phone, squinting as the screen illuminated your vision.

5:50 am

There is no God.

Finally accepting that you were not going to get any more sleep, you begrudgingly slid out of bed. Stretching, you began to make your way to the door, stifling a yawn as you opened it.

And immediately screamed.

“WHAT THE F- Kyungsoo?”

Standing in front of you was a hooded figure, looking just as startled as you were. Hand grasping the handle leading to the room directly across the hall, Kyungsoo had turned at the sound of Jongin’s door opening and his eyes widened almost comically at your presence.

As the fuzziness of sleep was lifted you realized that it must have been the sound Kyungsoo entering the apartment that woke you up. And judging from the incredulous look he was giving you, Jongin must not have told him you were there. Taking in his baseball cap and casual attire, you felt your eyebrows furrow.

Did he just get back?

You watched as his eyes slid down and you were suddenly very much aware of the lopsided bun that had come half undone in your sleep and the thin material of your pajamas. His eyes then darted from your own to the bedroom and back, eyebrows furrowing.

Your eyes widened at the silent question glinting in those dark eyes. Your hands immediately flew up as you began sputtering.

“It's not what it looks like!“ you began frantically and he only lifted a dark brow higher in a silent bid for you to continue. “Jongin was staying over at our place last night and I came here to give them privacy, you know how they are, it’s like National Geographic except nobody asked for it”

He shot you a bemused look.

You felt yourself flush and looked at the space of the wall next to his head “And well, I didn't get kicked out of my own bed to sleep on a couch… So I slept... in here" gesturing to the bedroom behind you awkwardly.

There was another beat of silence.

Great. Fantastic. Realll smooth. It seemed that without fail, every time you are in the immediate presence of the man across from you, you feel yourself suddenly tense up. Which is stupid, considering the fact that you are friends (distant acquaintances), and have been around each other for months now and got along great (cordial at best), surely by now you can have a normal conversation at the very least.

Speaking of conversation, you also become hyperaware of the fact that the other person in the hallway has yet to say a single word to you. Palms beginning to sweat, you began to scramble to think of something - anything - to cut the silence. As if your insane ramblings weren’t bad enough. He probably thinks you’re even more of a raging lunatic, compounded with what happened last semester. Why, why, of all things why did you have to crave Kraft Dinner for fucks sake-

“I see.”

Your inner monologue was cut short by a low reply. it seemed Kyungsoo deemed your answer acceptable, nodding slowly to himself.

You almost felt your body sag in relief, shifting your weight on the balls of your feet.

As another beat of silence passed, you fidgeted again as you were regarded by the dark haired man. Kyungsoo had yet to make any move towards his own room and you suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands.

Someone kill me.

You cleared your throat, “Umm...so now that that's cleared up… I’m just going to... go over...there” gesturing to the bathroom. You didn’t even wait for him to answer you as you powered your way past him and slipped into the bathroom, pressing your back against the door as it closed behind you.

You waited with baited breath as you heard silence from the hallway. Eventually after what felt like an eternity, there was a shuffling of feet, and the clicking of a door closing from down the hall.

Silently making the motion of bashing your head against the door, you let out a deep breath. Shaking your head you flicked on the light and picked up Jongin’s papaya face wash.

I mean, that could have been worse.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Making your way across campus, you faltered slightly as a yawn made its way through you. After submitting your paper to your professor's dropbox you had spent the day catching up on the never ending tasks you had on your to-do list. You had holed yourself up at the campus library and it wasn’t until your stomach decided to do its best impression of a Harley Davidson that you decided it was probably best to call it a day.

Pulling out your phone you pulled out a delivery app and started browsing the menu for the greek place a block down from your apartment. Flicking through the menu, you contemplated between the Pork Souvlaki or the Chicken gyro...maybe Jennie would be willing to go half and ha-.

You halted on the sidewalk.

Right.

Jennie.

Jennie who is currently still at your apartment.

With Jongin.

Well, shit.

Switching to your messages you sent a text to Jennie.

You: All clear?

You watched with bated breath as the three dots appeared at the bottom.

A sock emoji.

Lovely.

Sitting down at a nearby bench, you began sending out a barrage of texts.

After about 20 minutes of asking around you found out that Jisoo was out of town seeing her parents, Rose’s apartment building was apparently being fumigated for the second time this month and Seulgi was having Irene and Wendy over and you didn’t think you wanted to be part of whatever freaky party those three were going to have.

With every text that came in you felt yourself slowly deflate more and more. Placing your hand in your jacket, you grasped the keys that were in your pocket. They felt heavier than they should be.

There was one other option.

Grimacing, you flushed as you remembered the painfully awkward conversation you exchanged with a particular dark haired man this morning. There was no doubt in your mind that he would be home if you went over now, and you didn’t even want to begin imagining how this interaction will go.

You bit down on your bottom lip in worry as you brain tried playing out the various scenarios in your head. All in all, Kyungsoo didn’t seem to care all that much this morning, but then again when have you ever seen Kyungsoo care about anything.

Come on, think. Well, what do we know...

He is a mutual friend (questionable), for starters. If you both are able to get along with the dumperfire that is your friend group you have to have something in common.. Right?

You stopped fiddling with the keys in your pocket as the realization hit you.

Pulling up your contacts you scanned down the list before pressing ‘call’.

“Oi, Jongin. Does Kyungsoo like Greek?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Turns out no, Kyungsoo does not, in fact, like Greek.

According to Jongin, Kyungsoo is obsessed with this weird hole-in-the-wall Italian place that had handmade pasta. What was supposed to be a 10 minute walk ended up taking 45 minutes as you got lost 3 times, and once you finally found the store the doors were locked. What restaurant shuts down from 3 to 5 on a Friday?

Hipster pasta makers, apparently.

It was lost to you what the appeal was, but if there was anything that you learned in the years as a young adult living on their own, it was that there were two sure-fire ways to bond with someone:

Get drunk

Eat good food while drunk

The latter was not necessarily limited to ‘good’ food - after a few shots to you a McNugget is like a Michelen meal. However you had a gut feeling that Kyungsoo wouldn’t be too welcoming if you showed up with tacos and tequila.

So did you wait around for an hour and a half just to order something you could have bought as Lean Cuisine?

You bet your ass you did.

Because nothing says I’m sorry I know we barely know each other but our friends are banging so were kind of stuck together quite like overpriced spaghetti and meatballs.

Adjusting the paper bag in your arms you walked up to the familiar door. Fumbling with the key you finally managed to wedge it open and stepped through the threshold.

Unlike the last time you entered the apartment, this time you weren’t met with silence. The lights were already on and the sound of the TV filtered throughout the apartment. Toeing off your shoes and arranging them neatly next to the pair by the door.

Arms full of take out you were all of a sudden nervous to turn the corner.

You are once again reminded of the fact that you are very much not close with this man and this will probably be the first time you ever said more than 4 sentences to him in one sitting. And now you are about to have dinner together, alone.

"You kind of have to approach him first, and then see how he responds. He just needs time to warm up to you, you'll see"

Kim Jongin don’t you fail me now.  

Kyungsoo was sitting on the couch looking at his phone when you entered the living room. He immediately looked up and you watched his eyes widen marginally at your presence, clearly not expecting you back.

“I…” The mini speech you had been preparing during the 12 minute walk to the apartment died in your throat as you made eye contact with the dark haired man in front of you. The look he gave you left you momentarily thrown, it was a look that instantly made you think that he was annoyed with you with the way his eyebrows were drawn and the slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t until you saw Kyungsoo’s eyes slide to the bag in your arms briefly, and the slightest flicker of curiosity gave you the courage to push on.

“Jongin is still my place,” you offered, and watched as his eyes flit back to meet your own.

“So,” you continued, shifting the bag in your arms, “I brought some dinner, as a peace offering of sorts, I guess. I hope you’re hungry, because they gave us enough garlic bread to feed a small Italian village.” you let out an awkward laugh.

Kyungsoo looked at you as if you had grown a second head. You didn’t blame him, but you were too far gone to back down now, even if the man was giving you a shoulder so cold it could freeze Sahara.

Making your way into the kitchen you placed the bag on the counter and began taking plates out of the cabinets, trying to keep your trembling hands busy.

Stupid, stupid, this whole idea was stupid.

As you were transferring the food from the containers you heard a slight rustling behind you.

You almost turned around when you didn’t hear anything else, but then a deep voice spoke up, albeit hesitantly.

“Is that from Giulietta’s?”

Stiffening a smile you did not respond to the man immediately when he materialized at your side.

Humming in affirmation you handed him his plate, which he took slowly, eyeing the food suspiciously.

I swear, this guy.

It wasn’t until you had dished out your own plate that you turned to him finally and gave him what you hoped was a friendly smile.

“So, have you watched the new season of Great British Bakeoff?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Have a nice weekend? Actually don’t answer that, I really don’t want to know.” You didn’t even look up from your laptop as Jennie slid into the seat next to you at your morning lecture.

“Jongin has been doing ballet for years, I swear I never knew a body could bend like-”

“Ew. Gross Jennie, it’s 9AM”

“I have no concept of time anymore, the man wouldn’t let me sleep-”

“Jennifer, please, this is a sacred place.”

“This is Introduction to Environmental Science, most of the people here are too worried about cleaning baby ducks with Dawn soap than to eavesdrop”

Groaning you buried your head in your hands and took a deep breath. You really should have stopped by the Cafe next door and got some coffee, you aren’t nearly coherent enough to deal with this.

“Hey,” Jennie started, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Thanks again for stepping out and giving us the apartment for the weekend, I really appreciate it”

“You’re lucky I like you.

“Oh please-”

“-I barely got out of there alive.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

It wasn’t, actually.

Last night you and Kyungoo had sat in their living room and watched the Great British Bakeoff while you ate your dinner. You thanked whatever higher power there was that Kyungsoo was not a stickler for eating at the dinner table. Or maybe he was, but also thought this situation was incredibly awkward and also wanted some sort of distraction to avoid having to make small talk.

It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, you actually found yourself mildly enjoying yourself. He was a man of a few words but every now and again he would sprinkle in some choice commentary here and there, making noncommittal noises when a contestant added a new ingredient.

Odd fellow, this one.

He was polite enough to stick around for a couple of episodes before standing and offering to take your plate.

“Would you like something else? Jongin keeps ice cream sandwiches in the fridge”

“Oh...no, I’m ok thanks”

You were absolutely going to have one later.

Giving a curt nod, he walked back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. After a few minutes he returned to the living room, shifting uneasily on his feet. He had this thoughtful, intense expression, almost searching. For what, you had no idea but it made you fidget nonetheless, breaking eye contact and pick at imaginary lint on your sweater.

You were about to make some excuse about needing to go back to the library - because you sure as hell weren’t going to stick around here -  when he mumbled something about having papers to grade before disappearing down the hall to his room without another word.

A few more moments passed before you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Well, that’s that I guess.

“It went fine. He was...nice”

“Nice.”

“As nice as you can be with a stranger invading your space unnanounced.”

“So dramatic, it’s not like you two are strangers.”

“I don’t even think he knows my name.”  

“We have all hung out loads of times before-”

“I have spoken to him more in the last 12 hours than I have in the last 12 months”

“And who’s fault is that? If anything, that's progress, you should be thanking me. Kyungsoo’s a hoot”

You leveled her with a look.

“...have I told you how much I love you today?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Had this in my drafts for over 2 years. Hoping by posting I’ll be motivated to actually finish it~

[rwby-oscar-blog]

Mistral, the land of prosperity, and known to have the highest amount of minerals in the soil for farming, known to have the best crops of food throughout all of remment. But unfortunately two orphans were now homeless, lien-less and with nothing to their names, except for the clothes on their back, a hunting rifle from their father and two hand guns from their mother and whatever they got after the fire happened. Destroying their home and the field that they had a good number of crops growing, but now it's just a burnt field and the charred skeletal remains of a home left. 

This wasn't a home anymore, so Ocsar and his twin sister Olivia both left the homestead, to look for another place to live and to call home. 

Throughout their travels, they were able to stay in a tent that they also had among their stuff after the fire, which consumed their home and killed their parents. Nobody in either villages or small town's would take them in at all. The only way they kept themselves alive was through sheer determination and practice of hunting animals for food. This wasn't what they wanted to do, but it was a better way to get some food and a bit of lien, after selling the fur or anything of the origin to medical doctors in the towns or villages. Olivia was starting to develop into a beautiful woman, but Oscar didn't want her to start selling herself like a cheap prostitute or even being a prostitute at all. So hunting was the only thing to do, or find small easy jobs that they could do.

But for sleeping, it was only in the tent off of the main route in a field or among the bushes, near the main road or path towards the towns and villages. It was something at least. Until they made it to the forest.

It was a mighty thick and luscious forest, that had many of remment's tallest trees in the entire world. "This is a perfect place" Olivia looked at her twin confused of what he ment "wait what, what do you mean this is perfect?" "I'm saying Olivia is that, this place will be our new home" looking around the entire forest, there was barely any room for a tent, let alone a cabin to build. So Olivia crossed her arms above her breasts, looking at Oscar "okay Mr survivalist, where in the hell are we going to build a home, in the middle of a thick forest, there is barely any room on the ground" course Oscar pointed up at the sky or among the tree's.

She looked up at the top of one of the tallest trees, then shook her head "noo way, no i don't like, yo..you do know i hate highests, right?.. Oscar, why?" He shrugged at her "why not?, it's perfect, we will be off the ground. The animals will not be able to step on us, or hunt us down, anyways it's perfect" sighing again at the childest idea from her own twin, shaking her head again. "Okay Mr.toughman how are you, let alone us going to get up the tree and make a treehouse, or a base for the tree house?" Oscar just lifted up both arms, took one big 360 turn around the forest, pointing at the wood that was surrounding them.

Olivia smacked her forehead, she was being sarcastic, she knew about the huge numerous trees around the entire place. Placing her hands on her tight short shorts, sighed "you do know i was being sarcastic right?" He just nodded to her "oh yeah, i know" facepalming herself, he placed his bag on the ground getting some tools out, like axe he took from home "well, no time like the present now, let's get started already and finish the base before sunset" Olivia sigh once again and just went with it, for now.

Oscar got to chop down some trees that looked like they could be useful, checking a tree to see if it was coming down or sick, he chopped it down. It was a slow process, but with Olivia's help, it made the journey of building a home easier, but building steps were first. The temporary wooden stairs were constructed without hassle, they got to a height where it was enough to be invisible but visible to them. They got started on the platform.

Time flew past them as they worked throughout the rest of the day into early to late evening, once it got dark out they stopped working. Luckily they just finished working on the main base, or platform to build their home. But left it bare, with a lamp lighting the area above the tree, they set up their tent and had their dinner. As they ate, Olivia would take a glance at her brother's shirtless chest, he was getting chiseled slowly. Seeing those muscles, she turned red looking away 'damn it he is getting hot, wait' she shook her head 'no he is my brother, i'm not falling for him no way' she sighed once again, Oscar heard that sigh " is everything okay Olivia?" Asking his sister about it, she turned even more red, blankly looking at him.

"No no no I'm fine just my mind went off somewhere" laughing it off, she continued to eat her dinner, shrugging it off was the only thing he could've done for now.

Sleeping was even more of a hellish task, still awake Olivia's heart was beating fast and her breathing was irregularly picking up fast, when she saw Oscar. A few times she caught herself, with her hand on her unzipped short shorts, lightly touching her crotch, softly rubbing herself, she also felt her nipples get hard in her small top, at this point it could be called a tank top. Olivia stops dead in her tracks giving herself a good smack across the face, painful, but effective. So she got up grabbing a towel, headed to the pound that they found just a little ways from the forest. She removed her clothing and jumped into the very cold water, letting out a yell, she shivered and shaked. Quickly she got out of the pound and gave herself a quick dry off and put her warmish clothes back on. 

Olivia felt better, for the most part. But who said her mind wouldn't run wild, in her dreams. Getting back to the platform was easy enough, just reaching the last step. She heard a click, knowing that sound, she again stopped in her tracks. It was dark still, but she saw a small little spark of a light coming from Oscar, she gave a sigh. "Who goes there?" He demanded an answer "it's just me Oscar, Olivia your sister" lighting up the lamp, he pointed it at Olivia seeing her there, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank the brothers you are safe" then it hit him "wait where in the hell were you" "i was using the little girls room Osc really" he sighed again, putting the pistol back into the holdster, he just looked at her. "Well next time just say something" "how can i? When you are still sleeping ?" "Just give me a shake and tell me" this was going over his head.

Saying that she was using the "bathroom" was her own business, not Oscars business at all, even if he did the same, he wouldn't even tell anyone about that either. Still she shook her head "let's get back to sleep and talk about this in the morning" laying back down, in their tent. Oscar was already asleep, but Olivia was still awake, for a bit. Though she did cool down with a drip in the cold pond, she still felt a little itch deep in her core, so getting to sleep wasn't much of a problem. 

The morning came within about 7 hours later, Oscar didn't waste any time at all and continued to build up their new home in the tree. Olivia woke up later after Oscar and joined in with the help to finish or start on the wall of the tree house. 

After 6 hours of work on the treehouse, they managed to get the main house built with a half of the roof already built, but also managed to get three additional rooms made, one was a bathroom completed, the last two were full bedrooms for Oscar and Olivia to use. So with it being lunchtime and a nice break for the both of them, Olivia had caught a good number of fishes to eat for lunch. Sitting around the campfire, eating their lunch Oscar was proud of his and Olivia's hard work on the new home they were building together, being shirtless was very hard on Olivia again, the sweat coming off of his forehead and all over his chest was driving Olivia crazy and awakening her hormones in her again. She was blushing like crazy, giving her head a real good shake to get her mind out of the gutter. "So very close, we are nearly done with this home of ours, but what are we going to put in it?" Olivia heard her twin asking that, but her mind was stripping Oscar down to nothing, yet she doesn't know how big he was or if had a small member.

Oscar looked at Olivia, seeing that her mind was not here, it was just elsewhere. Waving his hand around in front of her face, he called her name " hey Olivia, hello are you there, remnant to Olivia, it's your twin brother Oscar calling want to answer" finally coming back to reality and seeing him standing there, waving his hand around "oh hey Oscar" "finally, welcome back to remnant space cadet, enjoy your trip" she blushed red "oh sh..shut up you" Oscar laughed at her when she told him to shut up like that "take it easy sis, i was only kidding" again he laughed and Olivia just blushed again even more red "so what were you asking me?" Sighing "I was asking what we would need for the house, we don't have any electricity running through this place, as of yet. But we will soon or not" sitting back down by the campfire, finishing up his lunch fish. 

Olivia rubbed her arm thinking a bit, but her mind was still processing if her brother was packing or not, shaking her head from the indecent idea of not knowing her brother's Anatomy. " Well we do need a decent kitchen set up and windows, a fireplace can be good, if we can find clay or something" Oscar nods to those ideas that would make it more of a home and a place they can be truly happy. Nodding to that, he finished his lunch and he went back to work to finish the roof. 

After a couple of hours of working on the roof it was at least now finished, both standing back and checking out their handy work. "Well i do believe we are done now" Olivia smiled at her brother "yep we did, do you think mom and dad would like this" that hit him hard as well as her, when she heard herself repeated to herself in her head, just looking at him with an apologetic eyes as she just looked at him "I'm im.." She felt his hand touch her head and gave her hair and head a rub "Don't worry about it Olivia, mom and dad would be very proud of our hard work on the house we made" he just smiled as Olivia looked sad.

It was hard on them both since their parents had died, and it was hard on both to realize that they were now gone. 

As Olivia was making some improvements in the new house, Oscar looked at the sun. Seeing it was getting dark and it was nearly time for dinner. "Hey Olivia i will head out to hunt for some food" she looked at her brother, as he went to get the weapons. "Wait, what is wrong with fish?" "Fish is okay, but I do want something more than just fish." Olivia nodded in agreement to that statement "and I can see if anyone had left anything we can use outside of town" that would be another idea. The village sometimes throws away anything that they are not using or can't be fixed at all. Oscar took his father's 70 lever action rifle and is taking the matching pistol's ivory, leaving Ebony with Olivia. 

Handing her ebony, she took the pistol and held it "keep this with you, only use this if it's really necessary okay." Olivia nods to her brother "i will be back soon" "be careful Oscar you're the only family i have left" giving her a smile he rubbed her head "i know same with you dear sister, but i do promise i will be back" both smiling at each other, Oscar left the treehouse to hunt for food, as he got off the last step, he lifted up the stairs up concealing the stairs from anyone or anything, that might come their way. Getting his gun ready he walked towards an empty field to find food. Olivia sits there in the silent room, no tv, no radio, nothing but just the pure silence of the evening.

She laid on the bench that Oscar made from the remaining wood, to give at least a bit of furniture in the house. She laid there looking up at the ceiling, slowly closing her eyes, she remembered him being shirtless and getting sweaty from the hard work he did, to build this new home for the both of them. Olivia's hands went from her sides upwards towards the hem of her tight short shorts, unbuttoning the single button, she slowly unzipped her zipper. Exposing her white panties, she slipped off the shorts, moving her right hand up her stomach, moving underneath her shirt and bra, groping herself. She imagined again, how Oscar looked so built and his muscles were developing, so well. She breathed in a sharp breath, as her left hand moved above her panties and between her legs, she started to move her fingers between her pussy lips. 

Moving her finger slowly between her pussy lips,she still imagine him shirtless, but instead, he pinned her to the ground, kissing her neck and groping her d cup breasts in both hand's of his, she softly moaned, while her right hand grope her breast, rubbing it and her nipple in a circle, while her left hand and trigger finger, moved a bit fast up and down, making a wet spot appear. Olivia softly moaned, rubbing her pussy bit more, picking up the pace, in her imagination, oscar was sucking on her neck, rubbing her breast and moving his two fingers around her pussy, she moaned a bit loud, moving her panties to the side, she rub her clit in a circle slowly at first, but picked up pace and speed, then she inserted her fingers into her pussy, moving them in and out of herself.

Moaning loudly now, in her micro dream, Oscar removed all of her clothing and was licking her pussy and sucking on her clit, Olivia naked and on her knees, bending over was plunging her fingers deeper into her pussy and rubbing her clit faster, moaning Oscars name "ohh...Oscar...oh.Oscar". In her micro dream, he plunged his cock into her pussy fucking her like a dog, she plunged her fingers faster, hard and deeper into her pussy, rubbing her G-spot manytimes over and over again. Moaning loudly, Olivia was reaching her limits. With the last few pumps of her fingers in her pussy, she screamed as she squirted all over the bench and half of the floor too. Panting like crazy just after she had an Orgasm for the first time really drained, she looked at her fingers, seeing how sticky they were. Olivia blushed very red, but she heard the stairs being brought down.

With her ears picking up the sound, she quickly got dressed again and cleaned up the mess before he or someone else came up the stairs. So she grabbed the gun ready to shoot the gun, cocking the hammer back till it locked in place, she waited and watched. Then the figure got to the door, opening it she saw it was Oscar, she let out a good sigh of relief. "Welcome back Oscar" "Thanks Olivia, got dinner" showing her the kills he had gotten, she took them from him "okay let me get them cleaned and skinned, then we can eat" "sounds good sister, i will get the fire started" Olivia nods, watching her brother leave the house again.

After a delicious dinner, they had planned to stay outside to enjoy a late night campfire, just sitting around remembering the good old days with their parents. But a sudden spit of rain started to come down upon them both, rushing into the house getting soaked with each step they took, trying to get into the house. Getting in, Olivia started to shiver a bit, so Oscar held her close for a bit keeping her warm for a bit. "Let's get you out of those clothes and into something warm" Olivia blushed like a tomato, being close to her brother like this. They split to their own room, she started to strip down to her underwear, as she got to take off her bra, Olivia felt her heart beat fast. She can still feel his warmth against her body, finishing stripping down, and giving herself a good dry off with a towel. 

Still raining outside and shivering a bit, she couldn't handle it, she needed the warmth of another to keep warm. She walked over to her brother's room, giving a knock she waited for a bit. The door opened, Oscar still awake looking at his sister. "Hey Olivia, you need something?" She nods to her brother, when he asked that "can we cuddle for a bit, im feeling cold" Oscar nods a bit " might as well sleep here since we don't have blankets as of yet" Olivia like the idea, she walked into his room, closing his door as she walked in, would be the last time, they see each other as siblings.

Laying on the ground together, they spooned together. Holding each other close, Olivia was able to close her eyes to sleep, but something hard was poking between her ass cheeks, she then looked behind her, seeing her brother blushed a bit "Olivia its not" she didn't let him finish his sentence, she grinded her ass up against his cock underneath his pants, she blushed as well, but she had a sly of a smile on her face as she grinded more "Olivia" he moaned a bit, looking at him "you like this huh your twin sister's ass grinding you huh" getting turned on more, she was egging her brother on. Hesitant at first, yet feeling this ass grinding up against his cock, he gave in, unleashing his cock from his boxers, he grabbed her ass and really went to town on her ass. Both moaned softly, while she lifted up her shirt, giving her breasts both a rub. She smiled at him 

"Sit on the floor back to the wall" stopping midway through grinding his cock between her ass, he nods. Both getting up from laying on the floor, Oscar crawled up to the wall, putting his back up against it, Olivia crawled as well, seeing how big his cock was, she licked her lips, taking it into her hands, she stroked his cock in her hand. She heard her brother moaning as she stroked his cock more. Then she took the whole thing into her mouth, sucking and licking the shaft, she bobbed her head up and down, taking it all into her mouth. Oscar wanted to grab something, so he put his hand on her cheek watching her suck on his cock, Olivia felt his cock throbbed feeling like it was going to explode. "I'm cumming" he said but too late, he held her head as he shot all of his cum from his cock and balls, drained everything into her mouth and down her throat. Pulling Away Olivia coughed after tasting his cum "im sorry sis" he apologized right away "its okay Osc" she stood up seeing his cock rise back up from the dead, hard girthy, but very thick. Already wet she removed her panties, throwing it at Oscar.

Catching it in his hand, he looked up seeing her wet pussy dripping, she put her hands on his shoulders, Olivia slowly squatted down towards his cock, teasing the head of his cock, she slipped it into her pussy. Finding it hard to get it in, he grabbed her hips and slammed it in, she yelled in pain as he broke her hymen, making her bleed all over his cock "Olivia you were" giving her a nod, she slowly moved her hips up and down on his cock, the pain was slowly going away, being replaced with pleasure, she and Oscar moaned together. Kissing each other and he grabbed her hips still plunging deeper into her pussy more, so she moved up a bit with just the tip inside, she shoved her breasts on to his face, motorboating his sister. But he sucks on them both, sending his whole cock back into her pussy again. 

Both moaning still, Oscar felt his cock throbbing again as he slowly tried to remove his cock from her pussy, but she slammed hard and kept bouncing a little bit of a time " Olivia i'm about….to...cum..let me pull out" " no cum in me give me your seed plow my field" Oscar got harder hearing her say that, both hugged each other, he finally shots his hot, sticky, thick cum into her pussy and womb. Panting and heaving, both laid on the ground together, kissing each other and holding each other in their own embrace, falling a sleep together

THE END

[thirstyforcharacters]

Bar Fight (Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x fem bounty hunter! Reader)

Part 1 of 2 of The Bounty Hunter and the Mandalorian

Summary: When a bounty hunter attempts to get her quarry, the ensuing battle with a mysterious stranger takes an unexpected turn.

Notes: Hello! This is meant to be the prequel to Rendezvous, (which you can find here) it's the scene that was briefly described in one of the beginning paragraphs. It can also definitely be read as a standalone, though! I know my updates definitely haven't been as frequent because finals are getting close, but I'm still trying to write because it's one of the only things keeping me sane. Hope you enjoy this Mandalorian story! PS: Thank you for 50 followers 🥰 I know that doesn't sound like much, but I honestly didn’t think that anyone would actually read my content, so thank you for giving me serotonin! (use of she/her pronouns, no y/n)

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! a bar fight (duh)/canon-typical violence, finger-fucking, hand jobs 

WC: 2.8 k

Another day, another bounty. That’s what you were thinking to yourself as you flew Freya, your trusty ship, back to Nevarro. Solonoe Carslit apparently owed some money to the Hutts, and of course, being one of the best bounty hunters in the guild, you were able to get the job done. Dragging Solonoe back to Tatooine wasn’t much of a problem once you knocked him unconscious and froze him in carbonite, and the Hutts payed you well, giving you enough money to make a much needed repair to your hyperdrive and get enough fuel to last you for a few weeks. You even splurged on a new pair of boots, since your old ones were torn to shreds. Now, you were headed back to Nevarro; Greef Karga said he would have some more jobs by now.

You touched down on the planet, landing in the open space just outside of town. You strode your way down the streets, and most who were in your way practically leaped to the side as you brushed past. You usually had this effect on people, your stoic expression, dark and practical clothing, and the blaster rifle, which you took off the body of a Stormtrooper, slung across your back, the blasters hanging from your belt, and the knives tucked snugly in their thigh holsters usually intimidated those who weren’t like you. You swiftly entered the cantina in which you knew Karga would be located.

And there he was, sitting at a booth, tucked in the corner of the bar, glancing around for anyone interested. And interested you were.

You sat in front of him, folding your hands on the table and giving him an intense stare.

“Ah, you’re back,” he acknowledged, “I’m sure the Hutts paid you handsomely.”

“You could say that. But I want a little more.”

He chuckled, “Always on the move, you are. You’re lucky, I think I have something for you.”

He took one of the familiar pucks from his pocket and turned it on. A human woman appeared on screen with bright green hair, which was shaved on one side, and eyes to match.

“Isahei Haradde is the name. Apparently, she stole a sizeable sum from a rich Imperial family. Rumor is that she’s hiding out somewhere on Bespin. They’re offering a pretty sizable reward for the one who catches her. In beskar.”

“Beskar?” your eyebrow raised, “that could be enough to buy myself a new blaster. Or make some new armor.”

“Indeed. I’m sure you’re up for it, you’re one of the best we have. Though, I will tell you, there are multiple other bounty hunters gunning for her as well, given the size of the reward,” warned Greef.

“I can handle it,” was your short reply.

Karga wished you good luck as you snatched the puck and jumped up from the table, eager to move to your destination. You made your way back to Freya. You were quite proud of her; she was an old, beat up Republic gunship you found in a scrapyard that you had fixed up yourself. The heavy armor and multiple guns you had rebuilt meant that almost no one could take down your baby. You had gotten her pretty beat up a couple times, but you always made sure the dings and bumps were taken care of.

You punched in the coordinates to Bespin and off you went. You launched into hyperspace and put the ship on autopilot, choosing to focus your attention on the job instead. Bespin was a mining planet, which mostly appeared clean from the outside. But you knew where all of the shady spots were, the seedy bars, the dark alleyways, the mine shafts that were used as hideouts for criminal masterminds, etc. Knowing the type of personnel you usually had to deal with, you figured you’d probably start in one of the bars.

Before long, you had arrived on the planet. You landed on one of the landing strips more on the outskirt of the city so that you could be a bit more inconspicuous, and wandered through the city until you found your destination.

Cloud City Cantina wasn’t exactly a creative name, but the drinks were cheap and there was plenty of activity not meant for the faint of heart. You could already hear some commotion from the inside when you approached the door and peaking inside confirmed your suspicions. Four people were standing by the bar, one you immediately recognized as your quarry. The other three were a Togruta female, Rodian male, and someone dressed head to toe in beskar armor, so you couldn’t tell exactly who he was, but you recognized him as a Mandalorian. Though you couldn’t see his face, he was alluring; while the other two were arguing loudly, he just stood there, observing through his helmet. He was casually leaning against the bar, one of his hands propper up his head, and the other was holding his blaster. The trio were obviously bounty hunters who were “discussing” who was going to get the bounty. You decided that you would decide for them, and you strode over to them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you snarked, clearly not sorry, “but I’ll be taking that bounty.”

Before any of them could react, you swept the Rodian’s legs out from beneath him. He squawked in surprise and the other two lept into action. The Togruta shot at your head, and you managed to duck just in time. During the confusion, Isahei sprang from her seat and made a run for the door, but the Mandalorian launched a whipcord from one of his vambraces (which you didn’t see coming) and it wrapped itself around her, causing her to topple to the ground. The Rodian staggered up from the ground and threw a punch at your head, which you skillfully deflected. You reached behind you and grabbed a beer mug and promptly smashed it over his head. He dropped to the ground once more, definitely at least unconscious. You turned your attention back to the Togruta, who shot at you again. You took out your vibro-knives and ran at her, slicing first at her blaster wielding arm, then at her face. She jumped back, expecting the charge, but you still managed to clip her arm, making her hiss in pain. She brought her elbow down and slammed it into your stomach, making you groan in pain. You slashed back at her in retaliation, and blood soon tinged her thigh from the deep cut you inflicted. She dropped to the ground as well.

You looked around for the Mandalorian, and barely saw him dragging the quarry through the crowd. Without really thinking, you hurled one of your knives at him and it sunk into one of the gaps in his armor, jst above his elbow. He dropped the quarry with a grunt of pain and whipped around while yanking the knife from his arm and throwing it on the floor. You assumed he locked eyes with you, making you smirk triumphantly.

“Couldn’t let you get away with that,” you called to him, stepping through the crowd, which parted for you, “I’d like that reward.”

“Well, you’re not getting it,” came his reply, which was sort of staticky through the helmet.

Even so, the deep timbre of his voice made a strange flipping feeling make itself known in your belly. Being attracted to your competition wasn’t going to help you in this situation, especially seeing as you were now practically face to face.

“Really? I beg to differ.”

“I’m the one who restrained her. That bounty should go to me.”

“Well, I’m the one who started the fight in the first place, and you wouldn’t have been able to restrain her without that. So technically, you couldn’t have done it without me.”

He didn’t say anything after that. You thought that maybe you had gotten to him when he suddenly took his rifle off of his back and swung it at you. You ducked out of the way and took out your own. You were in too close of quarters to be able to shoot at each other, so you used your rifles as bludgeoning weapons while Isahei, your quarry, just layed there.

After a long bout of fighting, it became pretty clear that neither of you was more skilled than the other. You both leaned against the bar, out of breath, staring at each other. You were sure that his stare was meant to be intimidating, if his body language told you anything. But yours was also a bit more of a sensual nature. You couldn’t help it; he was a strong fighter with a sexy voice. You could tell that there was muscle upon muscle underneath his armor, and you were able to see the way his pants hugged his massive thighs. You did your best to be subtle, but that was kind of difficult in such close quarters.

“I saw we just do rock, paper, scissors and call it a night,” you joked.

He chuckled, “I think I have a better idea, especially since you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

You flushed slightly at being caught, but hoped that the dim lighting of the bar covered it up, “I’m just trying to be intimidating. This usually works.”

“Yeah, because staring at my thighs is extremely intimidating.”

Oh. Well, you couldn’t play it off anymore.

“To be fair, I can’t say I’m entirely innocent in that regard, either.”

Oh. He was attracted to you, too. That was news.

“I see. So what’s this idea of yours?” you questioned.

He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Whoever makes the other come first gets the bounty.”

Your eyes widened comically. He was asking for what you had been thinking, and in pretty explicit terms, too.

The soft laugh near your ear sent shivers down your spine, “At a loss for words? Or are you not up for the challenge?”

“No,” you said immediately, “I’m up for it. I like to think I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“I’m sure you are,” he murmured, picking up your knife and tucking it back into your thigh holster, purposefully brushing his fingers along the inside of your thigh, “but so am I.”

The two of you dragged the quarry to a small, unassuming inn and snuck into one of the empty rooms. You left the quarry outside of the room, attaching the cord to a bannister, knowing that it was a very small chance of her escaping. Once you closed the door, the game was afoot. Almost immediately, he pushed you onto the bed; you should’ve known you were fighting a losing battle then, but you were determined to get this quarry. He draped himself on top of you and teasingly pinned your hands above your head.

“That’s cheating,” you snapped, “how am I supposed to get you off if I can’t use my hands?”

“Get creative,” he replied while his hips slowly began to grind into yours.

Though he was playing it cool, you could feel how hard he already was through his pants. Maybe you had a shot at this, as long as he didn’t know that you were already dripping. Every grind of his hips against yours made it more and more difficult to keep the moans that were threatening to spill from your lips at bay, but you managed to keep them in. Until one of his hands travelled from you wrists down your torso to the small strip of skin showing between your now-untucked shirt and your pants. His fingers slipped under the band of your pants and somehow almost immediately found your clit, rubbing vigorously. You couldn’t help but moan softly at the feeling.

“Maker, you’re dripping. Sure you’re gonna last?”

That was enough for you to spring into action. You pulled your wrists out of his one-handed grip and trailed them down his armor-clad torso. You removed the armor that was blocking your path downwards; though it was difficult without his assistance, you managed. You were about to dip your hand under the waistband of his pants when he ran one of his fingers through your slit, making you whimper and temporarily forget what you needed to be doing.

“Shit,” you breathed when his finger pushed into your dripping cunt.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmured, “bet you’re gonna cum soon with how wet you are.”

With all of the self-control you could muster, you grabbed his wrist to still his movements and used your other hand to finally reach into his pants and grab his rock-hard member. A soft groan crackled through the helmet, causing you to finally see through his put-together facade.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you crooned, starting to move your hand, desperate for him to cum before you.

You saw him nod jerkily, then he used his free hand to pull your hand from his wrist and begin his movements in earnest.

“It does,” he started, “but I need you to come first.”

“Not a chance,” you said through gritted teeth, twisting your hand around his dick, “that bounty is mine.”

Only moments after you said that did he add another finger, making you clench around him. He curled his fingers inside of you, making a soft “fuck” fall from your lips as you continued to jerk him, brushing your thumb across the tip. He cursed as you brought your thumb, covered in his precome, to your lips and sucked.

“You taste divine,” you whispered, batting your eyelashes enticingly.

“Glad you think so,” he snarked, “Maker, you’re just gushing around me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it; this was the wettest you had been in a long time. You knew that you weren’t going to last much longer; your legs were trembling and you were barely holding back your orgasm, making you redouble your efforts. You increased your pace, making him moan out in pleasure. Just when you thought that maybe you had him, his thumb rubbed against your clit, and you were done for. Your orgasm washed over you and you whimpered as he fingered you through your high. You tried to continue to jerk him through your orgasm, but you lost your grip on him as the pleasure overtook you.

You came down from your high and you could almost feel him smirking.

“Guess I won.”

“Guess so. You may have won the bounty, but I could just leave you on edge with no way to get back down. Not much of a winner now, are you?” you sassed back, pulling your hand out of his pants.

In a flash, his hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it back in, “Now that would be rude, wouldn’t it?”

“So is taking my bounty.”

You attempted to pull your hands away, but he grasped them both in his own. You knew that he was stronger than you, but you tried to break free anyway.

That is, until you heard him whisper, “Please.”

You looked into where his eyes would be in the helmet and you felt your resolve break. You knew you couldn’t just leave him high and dry, even if he did just take your bounty.

“Okay,” you replied, and he released your hands.

Your hands returned to their former position, wrapped around his dick. Now that you weren’t worried about getting off, you focused your attention on him. His dick was pretty, hard and absolutely leaking. You knew he was close. His body language was tense, like a bowstring that was too tight.

“Cum for me,” you purred, “I can tell how close you are.”

A sound akin from a whimper fell from his lips as one of your hands moved to toy with his balls. It wasn’t long before the bowstring snapped, and the white liquid covered your hands. You wiped off his release on the inn’s sheets, knowing that someone would probably clean it sometime. You both got off of the bed and got yourselves together. You exited the room and the Mandalorian took hold of the quarry. Disappointment began to settle in at your lost bounty, though you tried not to show it on your face.

You must’ve failed though, because he meandered back over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, “You’re a really good fighter. You’ll get another one.”

“Thanks,” you replied softly, though you were still pretty frustrated.

“At least you got a pretty decent orgasm out of it,” he remarked.

A small smile spread across your face at that, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Here, give me your holo,” he requested.

Your quirked up your eyebrow, but handed it over. He punched something in and handed it back to you.

“If you ever want to do something like that again, let me know.”

He dragged the quarry behind him then, and before long, he was out of sight. When you couldn’t see him anymore, you took out your holo and glanced at your contacts.

Mando.

That’s what he had saved himself as. Your small smile grew wider. Perhaps you’d be seeing him again. For now, though, it was time to get your next job.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Shakarian First Date

Since Garrus took Shepard somewhere they weren't supposed to be and fucking fired snipers in said forbidden area, I thought the lock in romance scene would have been better if they got chased and thrown in jail for a bit. Just some small stuff cause I really need the cute healing right now. Before...yknow...I work on the ME3 fix-it fic.

Lyris made her way towards the C-Sec shuttles. Her hands were in her hoodie pockets as she approached Garrus. He was leaning casually against the railing and she smirked as he pushed himself off of it. “Shepard, glad you came,” he greeted, his mandibles stretching out into the turian smile she got so used to seeing.

“Heard you wanted to hang out,” she smiled back. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Something that doesn’t involve fighting Reapers,” he said.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t think they’ve conquered the bar yet.”

“I’ve already scoped it out. But then I thought...if this was my last day alive, I’d like to remember it,” he insisted.

Lyris raised an eyebrow, taking her hands out of her pockets and crossing her arms. “So?”

“So, I had an idea...” He turned towards the console to call a car. When the car landed, she hopped in the passenger side as Garrus took the controls. If he was taking her on a joy ride, she was not about to complain. She had always wanted to take a ride around the Citadel, but it was always under attack or she was busy getting shot at or well...Reapers.

“Alright, where we going? Is there a destination, or are we just doing a joy ride?” Lyris asked, once they were in the air.

“Somewhere we’re not supposed to,” he smirked, a mandible stretching out to one side.

Lyris leaned back in the seat and chuckled. “Now you’re talking.”

“Ever have that one thing you’ve always wanted to do before you died, Shepard?” Garrus asked.

Lyris smiled slyly. “I’ve woken up with a turian next to me.” Lyris looked over at Garrus, a smirk on her face.

“Still trying to make me blush?”

“Until it works,” she teased. Garrus rolled his eyes. “So what’s your one thing?”

“The whole time I worked at C-Sec, I’d stare at the top of the Presidium and say to myself: I want to go up there. But I never did. There were one-hundred and thirty seven regulations telling me I couldn’t,” he explained.

“So what? Did you get them changed?”

“No. Now I just don’t give a damn.”

Lyris smiled, enjoying this new carefree Garrus. He had changed a lot since she first met him. From C-Sec officer to vigilante to expert advisor on Reapers. She wondered if it was because of her. If she had any influence on him and his attitude. Hopefully she wasn’t too bad of an example.

The car rose higher into the air and then Garrus parked it onto one of the beams that stretched from side to side across the Presidium. He stepped out and Lyris followed. “Figured it’s time to something stupid just for the hell of it. Might be the last chance we ever get.”

Lyris looked down at the Presidium, watching the skycars above them drive by. The view was beautiful. So much green and blue in this one spot: grass, plants, water. It was peaceful, reminded her of Earth before the Reapers. Looking out at the Presidium made her forget that Reapers were attacking the galaxy. That she wasn’t in the middle of a war, trying to complete impossible tasks. Getting species that fought for centuries to work together. “It’s incredible,” she whispered.

Garrus turned to her, seeing her eyes sparkle with life and amazement. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope it would inspire a certain...mood.” Lyris’s eyes met his and she could tell there was more to this.

“Something on your mind, then?” she asked, turning towards him.

His mandibles quivered, as if he was nervous. “It seemed like you needed time to...figure us out.” He stepped closer to her. “Are you ready to be a one-turian kind of woman?”

His voice was soft, as if he was unsure of himself, unsure if she really wanted him. He’s been with her since the beginning. Since Saren, the geth, Sovereign, on to the Collectors, and now with the Reapers. He was her most reliable squadmate, always watching over her back whenever she charged into battle with her biotics. He reminded her, painfully, of Gwen. Maybe that’s why she liked him so much. It was as if Gwen was a part of him. But at the same time, he was his own person.

When she died, it was as if the chains holding her in her past life had dissolved and when she was brought back to life, she was reborn, renewed. She let go of her parents’ death, of Gwen’s death, of all the people she had lost on Torfan. When she was surrounded by Cerberus strangers and felt threatened, Garrus had managed to find his way into her life. She had a friend with her then and she couldn’t afford to seclude herself away.

The feelings that formed for Garrus just...happened. She didn’t know who fell first, her or him. All she knew is that she wanted to be with Garrus until the end. She wouldn’t lose him. She was done losing people. She would take on the Reapers, as long as he was by her side.

“The only thing that made leaving Earth bearable was knowing that you were out there somewhere.” As she said the words, Garrus’s eyes lit up.

“I felt the same way. The worst part about the galaxy going to hell would’ve been never getting to see you again.” His voice had more confidence in it, as if hearing her say those words erased any uncertainties he had.

She stepped closer to him. “Well, here I am. Exactly where I want to be.” Lyris put her hands on his chest and looked up into his eyes. The next few words she said would put to rest her old life and allow her to truly move on. She would always love Gwen Tamashi, but she also knew Gwen would want her to move on. “I love you, Garrus Vakarian.” The words rang true as she said them. Her heart swelled as she waited for his response.

He seemed surprised, bringing a hand to his head and scratching it nervously. “Oh. Wow. The vids Joker gave me never got this far,” he laughed nervously. “There was the part about sleeping together, but this...I don’t know what to do...”

Lyris smirked and pulled him down for a kiss. “Who needs a vid when you’ve got me?” she chuckled as she pulled back, a smug look on her face.

A flash of confidence soared through his eyes. She felt his arms wrap around her and next thing she knew, she was halfway off her feet, laying in his arms. His mandibles quivered before he leaned in for a kiss. Kissing a turian was a different experience as he didn’t really have lips, but Lyris appreciated it regardless as she returned it. Honestly, she could have stayed like this forever, in his arms, his face nuzzled against hers. There were no Reapers here, no death, no politics, just peace and a lovely turian.

He pulled back, much to her dismay, and put her on her feet again. They stared at each other for a few more moments before Garrus turned to a box where a couple of sniper rifles were. “Now, before we head back, there is one thing we are going to settle once and for all.” He seemed at ease now, as if a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. Maybe it was since she cleared the air. It made her happy to see how relieved he was. He picked up one of the sniper rifles and turned back to her. “Not saying you don’t know how to handle a gun. Just saying some of us know how to make it dance.” He tossed the rifle to her. “So, let’s find out who’s the best shot.”

Really. Oh he really wanted to go there. Lyris snorted as she prepped the sniper. “There are a few people in the galaxy who’ve seen me in action, Garrus. They seemed impressed.” Garrus grabbed a bottle from the boxes as she said this.

He snorted. “Maybe, but I’ve actually seen you dance, Shepard...No comment.”

Lyris clicked her tongue and readied the sniper. “All right, Vakarian. You’re going down.” She was bringing this hotshot down. Nobody insults her dancing!

“Don’t worry, I loaded it with practice slugs for when you miss,” he said cheekily. Lyris rolled her eyes and took her stance. Did she use a sniper often? No. Did she at least know how to use one? Hell yes. She preferred her biotics and close combat rather than long range. But now was the time to defend her honor and make Garrus eat dirt.

He threw the bottle and as it soared through the air, Lyris aimed, held her breath and then fired, shattering the bottle and watching as the liquid within burst free and fell down. She tilted her head towards Garrus, smirk on her face. Eat it, she thought.

“That was an easy one. Let you build up your confidence.” He turned back to grab another bottle. “Long range, I wrote the book. Nobody alive can do this, not even Commander Shepard.” Lyris crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at the challenge. He tossed the bottle to her. “Give me a tough one,” he challenged as he grabbed his own sniper.

Lyris stretched and swung her arms about for a bit, getting ready to throw the bottle as far as she could. She backed up and aimed, then she ran forward a bit and launched the bottle. As soon as it was out of her hand, Garrus shot the bottle down. “I said a tough one!” he sneered.

“Alright, you cocky hotshot, step aside,” Lyris picked up her rifle again. As he got ready to throw the bottle, Lyris’s focus sharpened and as soon as she saw the bottle in her view...

It shattered and the sound of her rifle echoed all around. She then looked at Garrus, a smug look on her face again. “Nobody alive, maybe, but technically I died,” she shrugged.

Garrus snorted. “Yeah, well, next time we’ll throw in a herd of rampaging Kilxen. That’s how you separate the rookies from the pros.”

Lyris laughed but was cut off by the sound of sirens. She and Garrus turned to see a C-Sec car with the sirens on heading their way. “Remember how you said we’re not supposed to be up here?” Lyris quipped, throwing the rifle down and heading to the car.

“Yeah maybe shooting a gun wasn’t a good idea,” he laughed as he joined her. “Hold on.” The car lurched and they started speeding away from the C-Sec car. The sirens blared louder and sped up, beginning to chase them.

“Garrus are you running from the cops?!” Lyris exclaimed, laughter in her voice.

“Like I said, I don’t give a damn!” Garrus sped up, the car lurching above traffic towards the fake morning sky. Lyris looked behind her and saw that another C-Sec car had joined its partner.

“I hope you’re as good of a getaway driver as you are a shot,” she teased. “We got another one.”

Garrus’s mandible twitched and his voice purred. “Hold on tight then.” The car began weaving through traffic, hoping to lose the C-Sec cars on their tail. Until one came up to their side. “Crap.” Garrus forced the car downwards, speeding towards the water that traveled through the Presidium.

“A car chase as a first date? My, my, Garrus you know how to make an impression,” Lyris joked.

Garrus opened his mouth, ready to say something, but was cut off when more C-Sec cars cut them off in front. Garrus stopped the car and was about to turn around, but their chasers behind them cut them off. They were surrounded. Garrus looked over at Lyris. “Let’s just hope Bailey is here.”

Lyris was laying on Garrus’s lap and he absentmindedly ran his hand through her hair. They were in a jail cell, the door locked, but neither really seemed to care. “Garrus, stick to shooting things, not driving,” Lyris chuckled.

“I’d say I’m still a better driver than you. Should I remind you of the trips in the Mako?” Garrus challenged tilting his head to the side.

“Excuse you, I was a damn good driver when it came to the Mako.”

“Yeah sure. Say that to the concussions I would get all the time you flipped it over. I’m honestly amazed we never blew up!”

Lyris rolled her eyes.

The door to the cell open and they turned to look who it was.

Joker was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed with Bailey behind him. “Was wondering when you two would finally go out on a date,” Joker chuckled. “Just didn’t expect you guys to get arrested.”

“Yeah who knew Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian were such troublemakers,” Bailey snorted. “You two are free to go.”

Lyris sat up and smiled at Joker. “They didn’t make you bail us out did they? Cause I could have just used my Spectre status.”

“No I actually told Commander Bailey to keep you guys locked up for a bit,” Joker laughed. “I just found it funny Commander Shepard, hero of the Citadel, getting in trouble for being in places she’s not supposed to be.”

“Hey, it was Garrus’s idea,” Lyris countered pointing back to the turian who stood up.

Joker laughed again as he moved out of the doorway. “Breaking the law as a first date, nice you two. Glad to see you finally made a move Garrus.”

Garrus’s mandibles twitched again, as if he was embarrassed while Joker led them out of the C-Sec offices. “We should totally do that again,” Lyris said, looking up at Garrus. He relaxed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Definitely.”

[eldritchqueerture]

Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

—

How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why –  the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad’s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

[rainbowvamp]

"Your Grace."

A royalty/knight AU. Merlin as a prince. Lancelot is a knight of Camelot. They fall in love because of course they do. :)

--

The carriage he’s riding in bumps and drags through the streets of Camelot. Because he’s here as a prince, a visiting dignitary, he was asked to behave as a dignitary and ride inside the carriage, not on his own damn horse. Which made the ride entirely out of his control and fairly uncomfortable, and worst of all boring.

He could hear his father’s knights laughing and joking right up until they reached the gates of Camelot. He wasn’t jealous, per se, but he wished he could at least pretend he might be able to participate in the joking.

He couldn’t even entertain himself with magic because the carriage curtains were partly lace embellished and it might show through. That Ealdor allowed Magic openly was no secret in Camelot, but that the crown prince had it… that definitely was. And for the sake of certain trade negotiations, it was going to have to stay that way.

Merlin sighs with relief when the carriage finally stops and he hears himself being announced. Someone opens the door to his carriage and he puts on an air of princeliness that his mother would have been proud of as someone offers him a hand to help him step down.

The hand offered him is not the hand of one of his father’s men.

It’s the hand of a truly beautiful man, with dark brown eyes that look so earnest Merlin could’ve tripped over them. He did start to trip over his own feet, but the knight (and he must be a knight in that gorgeous Camelot red) quickly took Merlin’s waist in one hand to steady him.

Merlin might have looked gangly, but he was far from a waif of a damsel, so the feat required no small amount of strength. Merlin tried not to think about it too much, lest he become distracted.

“Your Grace,” the knight helped Merlin the rest of the way down (no more tripping) and bowed when he released Merlin’s hand. “I’m Sir Lancelot, knight of Camelot. It will be my honor to escort you during your visit. The king and the prince are unfortunately occupied with a trade deal that is taking much longer than anticipated. He had hoped to be done before your caravan arrived, but I’m sorry to say this was not the case.”

If Merlin were at home, he might have said something like, “Oh, great. Uther’s a nightmare.” Or better, “Arthur’s always been a prat anyway. I don’t send any regrets.”

But Merlin was here representing his father, his mother, and his kingdom. He’d do as was meant to be done, and he’d be amiable. “I understand. These things happen. I’m quite tired after the journey. Could you show me somewhere I might lay down for a minute?”

Truthfully, Merlin was a ball of energy, but he knew himself well enough to know that he was barely holding himself together, and a quick reprieve from society, with all doors shut and windows covered, would be the best thing he could do for himself right now.

“Of course. I can show you to your chambers. Prince Arthur offered the ones nearest his to you.”

Merlin tilted his head. “I was under the impression those were usually knight’s chambers.”

“They are, but certain improvements are being made to the guest areas of the castle. I promise you will not find them lacking.”

“I believe you.” Merlin didn’t, but he wasn’t going to make a scene. He hated that he was going to have to be close at all to Prince Prat. Why had his father sent him? What had been the point of this whole diplomatic visit? Merlin didn’t have any authority yet. It was just a cutesy show of alliance.

Or his Mother was trying to marry him off again while he was gone. It had only happened the once, and she’d promised it was an accident, but Merlin was skeptical.

“If you’ll follow me, Your Grace, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

“Yes, that would be great.” Lancelot offered Merlin his arm, and while usually Merlin would’ve refused…

Well, how could he refuse such a chivalrous knight. He put his hand in the crook of Lancelot’s elbow and was careful not to outwardly relish the contact. Even through the chainmail, Merlin could feel the sheer strength in Lancelot. It wasn’t at all unpleasant.

If her were home, he might’ve made a move to get Lancelot into his bed. But he was supposed to be amiable, so he settled for just smiling as Lancelot explained what new was being done to improve the castle’s fortitude and kept his mouth firmly shut about how it all sounded unnecessary.

“Here you are,” Lancelot opened the door to a chamber near Arthur’s. Merlin only knew it was Arthur’s because he’d been forced to take supper with the prince in them once while their parents discussed “private matters.” Whatever that had meant. It had been a stilted and awkward dinner, only barely saved by the grace of the Lady Morgana. “I hope you will find everything to your liking. If not, the servants have orders to bring you anything you might need to make your stay more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Merlin walked into the chambers alone and… was actually impressed.

It was obvious the place had been very thoroughly cleaned, recently, and the drapery on the bed, the curtains, and the linens all looked incredibly beautiful. Well preserved or possibly even new. An obvious Camelot Red that looked much less fetching on bedding than it did on Sir Lancelot.

“Your grace,” Lancelot bowed and left Merlin to his rest.

He collapsed onto the bed as soon as the door was closed.

By the Gods, how was he going to make it through the week with this gorgeous knight around? Merlin was very glad this was only meant to be a short visit. Or maybe not so glad.

His servant came in a few minutes later with his things, and Merlin asked him to draw the curtains. Once the room was dark and he was alone, he pulled at the thread of magic that ran through his soul and muttered a simple spell to make the room glow.

The glow purposefully mimicked candlelight, ebbing in a way that would fool most people, but instead of fire light, the room was filled with magic that came from him and could be shaped into anything he desired. He made it a little bird and watched it flutter around the room for a while, letting the energy of maintaining the manifestation still him a bit. The bird’s flying became hopping around on the bed spread and then slowly it nestled down in the blankets to sleep, and Merlin, lulled by it, did the same.

—

Lancelot knocked thrice on the door to Prince Merlin’s chambers before entering. He had been asked to fetch him for dinner. Though that was usually a servant’s job, Lancelot didn’t hesitate to go up to the room that was usually his to retrieve the Prince.

He waited for an answer, but heard nothing. He checked the hall to see if any of Prince Merlin’s servants might be milling about, but had no such luck. He knocked again, louder this time. “Your Grace. Dinner is to be served soon, if you would like me to escort you?”

He still heard nothing. The Prince had mentioned that he was tired, and so perhaps it was possible the man was asleep. Lancelot tried the knob and found it unlocked. With no guard to be seen. Lancelot sucked his teeth and made a vow to either make the man lock his door to station a guard. The palace might be safe, and Merlin may have no enemies in Camelot to speak of, but it did seem like there was always at least one traitor within her walls. He’d hate for Merlin to be their victim.

“Your Grace,” Lancelot called again, entering the antechamber and closing the door to give them some privacy. “Are you here?”

It felt strange to walk into his own room like it wasn’t his. For the next week it wasn’t his, but he hadn’t been able to handle the idea of Merlin being put in a drafty room barely suitable for a card game, let alone sleeping for a week.

Arthur had been fine with it, but Arthur was not particularly hospitable. When Lancelot had offered up his own room instead, Arthur had only raised an eyebrow and waved his hand, which was as close to permission as he was going to get.

It wasn’t ideal to be making his way to the bedchambers of a prince unannounced, but if Merlin wasn’t there he’d have to start a search, and so really it was just practical. It had nothing to do with Lancelot’s own personal curiosity.

“Your Grace.” Lancelot poked his head around the bedchamber door and for a moment, he lost his breath.

Merlin was gorgeous, sleeping peacefully on top of the blankets, shoes not even removed, strangely, but that wasn’t what caught Lancelot’s breath. Sitting on the bed, nestled against Merlin’s chest, was a glowing orange bird, no bigger than a sparrow.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

Lancelot started to back out of the chamber to knock again, louder, but Merlin was already stirring, and as soon as their eyes locked the bird vanished.

They stood there, in quiet, tense silence for several moments, both of them trying to think of what to say. Magic was outlawed in Camelot, and they both knew what Lancelot had seen. To his credit, Merlin didn’t look like he was about to attack him with said magic, so that was good. But the threat of what might be about to happen hung heavy in the air between them, stifling any possible conversation.

Merlin was the first to clear his throat. “Did you need something?”

Lancelot’s mouth opens and closes without him saying anything, but soon enough he finds his voice, clears his throat, and says, “Um, dinner is to be served soon. If you’d like to dress.”

Merlin looked down at his travel clothes, now slept in, and sighed. “I suppose I must.”

Lancelot nodded and closed the door to the bedchamber.

Oh shit.

—

“Fuck.” Merlin whispered to himself as he rifled through the chest of his clothes. Sir Lancelot might very well be running to tell the king about him right now. He searched his trunk for the clothes that he would usually wear to battle but then decided against them. He took a deep breath, elbow deep in fabric and necessities, and forced himself to shaky feet, grabbing the ensemble he’d planned to wear to the first dinner of his visit. He’d never needed mail or anything else to go into battle. He’d trained to fight in his royal clothes for exactly this reason. He’d at least take the chance that Lancelot was too stupid to know what he’d seen before he went out magic wielded. It was for the best.

He dressed quickly, even for being on his own, washing his face and hands, combing his hair and carefully adjusting the delicate his mother had given him specially for this visit. Why she’d felt such a need, Merlin would never know. Hunith was a strange woman, and only getting stranger, while Balinor seemed to be getting more callused. Still, he loved them, and all their eccentricities.

He felt luxurious in the deep blue and green dinner clothes, and that steadied him a little. If he was going to have to fight, at least he’d look good doing it.

And he had a dagger stashed on his person just in case.

He opened the door and found Lancelot standing a few feet away, turned away from him. Merlin kept his back straight and his gaze level as the man turned to face him.

“It’s been a while since I saw Camelot’s dining hall. I might need help getting there.” He could definitely have gotten there on his own, but he wanted to keep Lancelot close, just in case. It was always easier to hide using magic on someone when they were closer.

“Of course, Your Grace.” Lancelot extended his arm again, and Merlin decided to take it again. It kept his arm inconspicuously close to the opening of his coat, where he could reach in and grab his dagger if need be.

They made their way to the antechamber, but they stopped at the door. Merlin tensed at the way Lancelot didn’t reach for the handle.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Lancelot said, and Merlin started to pull away, but Lancelot held his hand at his elbow. “I swear it.”

Again, just like when they’d met, Lancelot has such earnest eyes, Merlin can’t help but believe him.

“I’m not a danger to anyone.” He swore in return, and Lancelot nodded, with a soft smile.

“I know. You did trip getting out of your carriage.” Lancelot’s little chuckle would’ve been cute if it hadn’t embarrassed Merlin so badly.

“I’d been riding for hours. My legs were unsteady.”

“I’m sure.” Lancelot reached for the door knob now and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

And somehow, Merlin believed him.

[subarublue]

Joke’s On You

One Shot

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC4 (could even be post DMC5 if you want…I kept those details vague. The only telling thing is the fact that Nero’s there)

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Dante x Female Reader

Word Count: 4224

Read on Ao3

Summary: “Hey! Know any good jokes, sweetheart?”

If ever there was someone who could get bored in the middle of a fight, it was most definitely Dante.

Notes: So...this is an old one. I say that even though this was just posted on Ao3 last September only because it was my first story ever. I was debating on whether or not to post it here because I don’t feel 100% happy with it, but I figure, eh what the heck. I’m never gonna revise it though, so I can look back and see how much better I’ve gotten at writing...if at all, lol.

“Hey! Know any good jokes, sweetheart?” Dante called out before he shot another large demon that thought it was a smart idea to target the weakest member of your group; you. You might have wondered if the thing regretted its decision, that is, if your blood hadn’t suddenly rushed to your face at the pet name he’d used to address you. God, you loved it when he called you that...well, at least you assumed he was talking to you. You highly doubted he’d call Nero that.

He glanced at you with a smirk. He must’ve known what calling you that did to you and you really wished you could hide your face without risking your life at that moment. You were sure he could tell that you were as red as a tomato despite how dark the street you were currently on was.

It certainly didn’t help that you’d fallen hard for the man. Adding in the fact that he was a huge flirt and had you blushing like mad at pretty much everything he said anyway made you wonder if he knew about your little crush on him. But he never said anything about it so you assumed...maybe he hadn’t actually noticed? You weren’t sure which you preferred.

He was looking at you again, expectantly this time. Oh, right. He’d asked you a question.

“A good joke!?” you sounded incredulous as you fired off round after round at more demons closing in on you. Did he really mean now?

Who were you kidding? Of course he meant now. If ever there was someone who could get bored in the middle of a fight, it was most definitely Dante. You could just hear Nero’s groan over all the commotion, clearly showing his annoyance with the older hunter.

Dante cut a large arc through the air with his sword, killing three more demons at once when they tried to jump over him. “Yeah! This is gettin’ kinda old. Think we could use some better entertainment.” You could hear the playful lilt to his voice. While he was enjoying himself, he was quickly losing interest in the fight. You knew that last part had been a gibe at the weak demons you all were fighting, so you weren’t quite sure if he was serious or not.

“Are you for real, right now? Don’t you think we ought to be concentrating on trying not to get killed, instead?” Of course by ‘we’ you really meant yourself. It wouldn’t do for you to be distracted right now after all; you weren’t nearly as experienced as the other two. You shot down another small demon that made it past Nero with your rifle. He and Dante were taking on the brunt of the work, shooting and slicing through the huge horde that was advancing on your small group, while you stayed a ways behind taking care of any demons that got lucky enough to make it by the two hunters in front of you.

“Aw! Come on now, babe! You got nothing to worry about!” Dante yelled back to you as he sliced another demon in half. “I’ll protect you. I can be your knight in red leather!” Dante threw you a grin before turning back to the fight. The demons were advancing more quickly now, their desperation to overrun the three of you growing by the minute. You shook off your embarrassment at his cheesy line and slung your rifle over your shoulder by the strap. You drew two pistols instead since it seemed that speed was becoming more necessary as the demons tried to swarm the three of you.

You heard Nero bite out, “Would you knock it off already? I doubt she’s interested in your old ass, so lay off! We got a job to do!” He skewered a demon that tried to slip by him with his sword.

You couldn’t have wanted to smack Nero in the head more than in that moment. You knew you probably weren’t Dante’s type (though you weren’t really sure what his type was exactly), but you surely didn’t need, nor want, any more help in turning away the man’s attentions. Even if the flirting didn’t mean anything to him.

“You seem to forget, kid,” Dante started, emphasizing the word “kid” to get a rise out of Nero, “that she and I have known each other for quite a while now. If she’s got a problem with me, she knows she can just say so,” he finished as he took out another demon trying to get the jump on him. The taunt worked, and you could see Nero bristle at being called a kid as he took his anger out on another particularly unlucky devil. “Besides, what do you care? You gettin’ jealous over there, or something? Thought you already had a girlfriend? Or are you as bad at relationships as you are at killing demons?”

You glanced back at Dante as he taunted Nero some more in time to see another weak enemy “sneak” by him (you were sure he allowed it so you’d have something to practice on), and it was easily gunned down by your pistols. Unfortunately, you missed whatever spluttered reply Nero had made. Probably some comment on how Dante himself had terrible luck with women.

“Shouldn’t we be focusing more on the fight?” you asked nervously. You didn’t doubt Dante could and would protect you (Nero too, of course), but there was always that ‘what if?’ “I mean, I do know some of good ones, but...” you trailed off.

He was quick to reply before you could finish. “Yeah! I’m in the mood for a good laugh. This has been pretty tedious and boring anyway,” he continued with his taunting. “And don’t worry so much! The end’s in sight.”

Sure enough, a glance down the dim street showed the end of the horde of demons. Finally, you thought.

“Is this really the time for that kind of thing?!” You heard Nero’s exclamation over the sound of Red Queen revving as he picked off a few more demons.

“Any time’s a good time! What’re you talkin’ about!?” Dante defended.

The remaining demons had now changed tactics, opting for a straight forward attack as they desperately charged up the street, taking the two, more experienced hunters head-on. That’s not a very smart plan, you thought wryly. Dante had put Ivory away at some point in favor of using Ebony in conjunction with his sword as the rest of demons drew in close. Thankfully, none of them were particularly strong and with Dante and Nero flanking you, you figured you were well protected and finally decided to humor the man.

“Okay, I do know a really good one, but it’s kind of long. Has a really good punch line, though!” you said as you thought about the best joke you knew. You’d learned it from a friend a long time ago, and it was by far one of the best you’d heard. You figured it would be the kind of joke Dante would appreciate. On second thought, you were almost too embarrassed to tell it. God he’s gonna make so much fun of me for it later. Maybe I should pick a different one, you thought, remembering the joke’s end. As the demons’ numbers dwindled, they began to get more desperate and frustrated at the fact that they hadn’t even drawn blood from any of you.

“Well, we gotta hear it now!” came Dante’s over-ecstatic reply and you knew he wasn’t going to drop it until you told the joke.

You heard Nero groan again and mutter something you couldn’t quite catch over the sound of his sword’s engine. It sounded a bit like ‘not pandering to old men’ or something like that.

“Sooo,” you started off loudly, trying to talk over the noise of the fight as you shot another demon trying to get in close, “somewhere far away in a valley, there is this forest. And in the middle of this forest, is a lake. And over this lake is a fly, buzzing around and minding its own business.”

“What the hell kind of joke is this supposed to be?” Nero rattled off as another demon fell to his blade.

“Shut up and listen and you’ll see!” You got a little aggravated with him since you’d barely started and he was already complaining. “Anyways, in the water is a fish, watching this fly buzzing over this lake, in the middle of this forest, in this valley far away. And the fish thinks to itself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, I could jump out of the water, catch that fly, and have myself a tasty snack!" A demon caught you off guard in that moment. You knew you wouldn’t be fast enough to defend yourself, but before you could even react you caught sight of Dante’s sword hacking it in half. He’d definitely made good on his claim of being your knight and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sounds like a good one! Keep going, sweetheart!” Dante said as he turned away to stop another demon from trying to impale him with a claw. You were glad he was distracted so he couldn’t see you blush again.

You continued, “Now a ways away on the bank of this lake, is a bear. And this bear is watching this fish, watch this fly, buzzing over this lake, in this forest, in this valley far away. And the bear thinks to itself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, the fish would go for that fly, I could rush in, catch that fish and have myself a yummy dinner!” You killed a couple more demons that tried to sneak up on Nero, and he grunted out his gratitude. Unlike Dante, he was clearly not enjoying himself.

“Further on down the bank, is a hunter.” Nero groaned again and you suspected he must be setting a new record for the number of groans in one night. You heard Dante chuckle on the other side of you though, so you pressed on, “And this hunter is watching this bear, watch this fish, watch this fly, buzzing over this lake, in this forest, in this valley far away. And the hunter thinks to himself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, the fish would go for that fly, the bear would go for that fish, and while it’s distracted, I could shoot that bear,” you paused as you heard a gunshot from Nero’s gun go off killing another demon, “and have myself a nice trophy.”

You could see the end more clearly now. Only about twenty or so demons were left and they were getting cut down pretty quickly, so you kept going, “Now at the edge of the hunter’s camp, is a cat.”

“Let me guess...stupid cat is watching the hunter, watching the bear, blah, blah, blah!” Nero grated out, clearly annoyed as he swung his sword at another demon desperately trying to get a hit in.

“What!? NO!” you yelled at him, getting annoyed yourself at his interruptions. You supposed you couldn’t really blame him. This had been a pretty tedious job as Dante had stated earlier. Taking a moment to shoot another approaching demon, you calmed yourself and grinned at Nero since he’d only been half wrong. “He’s eyeballing the hunter’s turkey sandwich!”

“What the hell? Really!?” Nero seemed pretty exasperated at this point, but you heard Dante bark out a laugh as he killed another demon and decided you really didn’t care too much as long you could hear that laugh again.

You continued on, punch line in sight. "So this cat is also watching this hunter watch this bear, watch this fish, watch this fly, buzzing over this lake, in this forest, in this valley far away.” You could almost see the irritation rolling of Nero in waves at the fact that he was half right. “And the cat thinks to itself, You know, if that fly would just drop six inches, the fish would go for that fly, the bear would go for that fish, the hunter would go for that bear, and while he’s distracted, I could dart in and have myself a turkey sandwich!”

“Come on kid, cheer up! We’re almost done here!” you heard Dante yell over you at Nero and you couldn’t quite tell by his tone if he was trying to bait Nero or actually encourage him. Looking around though, you noticed he was right. There was only a handful of demons left to deal with.

“So anywaaay,” you stopped their conversation before Nero could reply and Dante gave you a sheepish grin in apology for the interruption, “eventually, the inevitable happens. The fly drops six inches!” you cried out as the last few remaining demons rushed the three of you. Realizing you wouldn’t be fast enough to be of much help, Dante and Nero took a defensive stance around you.

They slashed and shot at the remaining demons as you took the opportunity to bring your joke up to the punch line, “The fish leaps out of the water,” you raised your voice over the sound of the battle as Dante leapt in the air and brought his sword down, severing one of the demon’s heads from its body, “and snatches the fly right out of the air!”

Nero charged a demon closing in and dispatched it quickly. “The bear rushes into the lake and grabs the fish!” You turn to see Dante brandishing Ivory. “The hunter cocks his gun, takes aim, and fires!” The sound of real gunshots added sound effects to your story.

“The cat darts for the sandwich, trips on a can, rolls forward, and SPLOOSH! Ends up right in the lake!” you shouted as both Dante and Nero brought their swords down on the last two remaining demons.

What followed was a deafening silence in the wake of a clamorous fight. For a moment, no one spoke. First taking stock of the surrounding area, Dante listened intently for any stragglers. Finding nothing, he then nodded at you and Nero, signaling that the area was clear and the fight was over. You holstered your pistols as Dante and Nero put away their weapons as well and turned to face you. Nero was still clearly irritated, but Dante looked expectant and you wondered if you could bait one of them into asking for the punch line. You waited a beat, then spoke, “The end!” You then took a little bow to end your tale.

“WAIT! WHAT THE HELL?! THAT’S IT?!” Nero was almost yelling. Apparently, even though he’d been clearly annoyed by your joke, he seemed to have become quite invested in it. “That’s not even a joke! That’s just a weird, fucking story! Where’s the punch line?”

Hook, line, and sinker, you thought, snickering to yourself. The look on your face turned mischievous and a glance at Dante showed you a knowing grin as he awaited your punch line. “You’re absolutely right, Nero!”

“Huh?” He blinked, obviously confused for a moment as to why you’d agreed with him. You didn’t pause for long, though.

“But every story has a moral. Wanna take a guess at what the moral of this story is?” You waggled your eyebrows for added effect, which incited a chuckle out of Dante and you decided you really wanted to hear it more often.

Nero’s annoyance had returned by now and he stated through gritted teeth, “Don’t try and steal someone’s fucking turkey sandwich?”

Your smile fell immediately and you leveled him with the most deadpan look you could muster. “You must be real fun at parties, huh?” You heard Dante snort in an effort to stifle his laughter, which only seemed to irritate Nero further.

Remembering the punch line, you fought a sudden wave of shyness that crept up. You managed to succeed though, deciding to just barrel forward with it. “The moral of this story is:” you paused for dramatic effect, then shooting finger guns at the two men in front of you, delivered your punch line, “Every time a fly drops six inches, a pussy gets wet!”

There was a beat of stunned silence before Nero’s face turned beet red and Dante erupted in a raucous laughter that had him doubled over clutching his sides. Nero spluttered for a bit, unable to form a coherent stream of words together at first, due to his embarrassment.

Dante, still laughing, managed to speak in between breaths, “Holy shit, sweetheart! That’s got to be the best one I’ve heard in a while!” You couldn’t help but blush again (How many times had it been now?) at the combination of him using that pet name again and praise for your long-winded, dirty joke. As Dante’s laughter finally subsided, Nero seemed to have managed to collect himself.

“Man, you guys suck! I’m out! Next time, get Trish or Lady to go along with you ‘cause I ain’t coming!” The way he said it, you knew he wasn’t serious, but it had been a long night and he turned to stalk off angrily.

“Hey, kid! Don’t be like that. Loosen up a bit! You don’t wanna hurt her feelings, do ya?” Dante reprimanded Nero lightly. He wouldn’t take offense to anything Nero said, but he certainly didn’t want him taking his frustrations out on you.

Nero sighed and turned around. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry. Guess I’m just tired. It’s been a long night,” he finished with a nod to you. “The joke was actually a decent one, even if it was a bit long,” he paused, “and dirty.” He made an embarrassed face at that which had you giggling.

Suddenly, your mischievous grin was back and Nero wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what came out of your mouth next. “But the buildup is the most important part! You can’t have a good finish without a little foreplay!” You made finger guns at Nero again for emphasis and his blush was back tenfold as Dante started laughing again at his expense.

To his credit, Nero recovered more quickly this time, “God I’m so done with you two! I’m going home. See ya around!” he said it a bit harshly, but both you and Dante saw the hint of smile on his face as he turned away.

“Tell Kyrie ‘Hi’ for us!” Dante called out to him as he walked away. “Maybe you should tell her the joke!”

A loud and annoyed ‘BYE’ was all you got for a response as he left and you snickered a bit as Dante came up to stand beside you.

“Some people just don’t understand good humor,” he said as he turned to look at you, an expression of mirth on his face. He winked at you when you glanced up at him, and you were pretty sure your face was now permanently the same color as his jacket.

God! Could I be any more obvious? you grimaced inwardly, but outwardly, managed a shy smile for your friend. That’s right, just friends. “Well I don’t know about good humor, but at least someone enjoyed it,” you said in response. Dante nodded, but didn’t reply and, for a moment, just stood there watching you. It felt like forever as you started to fidget under his intense gaze, but in reality it was probably less than a minute.

Finally he broke the silence, “You know...it’s getting pretty late and I’m a bit tired after all that. Don’t quite feel like driving you home tonight. How about you just crash at the shop? There’ll be pizza, maybe a movie. I’ll even buy this time, sweetheart.” In the silence of the night, you just knew he could hear your heart thundering in your chest. Belatedly, you realized he’d called you sweetheart almost all night, having dropped the ‘babe’ a long time ago. His normal cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a soft smile.

You tried to school your emotions into a blank mask, but you were pretty sure you failed miserably, and you gave him a timid laugh. You tried to break through your shyness again by cracking a joke with him. “You? Buy? You sure you got enough money for that, Dante, ‘cause that almost sounds like a date, you know?” You found you couldn’t look him in the eyes at the moment.

You heard Dante chuckle beside you and tried to savor the sound for as long as you could. “Well, what would you do if it was?”

You froze at that. You were pretty sure your mouth had dropped open and was catching flies, but you couldn’t seem to get any decent words to form at first as you floundered for a response. “Wha-what do you m-mean, what if it was?!” you finally managed to squeak out.

“Thought I was pretty obvious there, but if you need me to spell it out for you, I’m asking for a date.” He winked at you again, smile still on his face. You realized then, he most definitely did know about you’re little crush on him. Now there was a burning question in your mind you just had to ask.

“How long have you known?” You almost whispered it, your voice was so quiet, but you knew he heard you clearly. He crossed his arms over his chest, and your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to them, staring blatantly at his exposed forearms.

He cleared his throat and the sound immediately brought your eyes back up to his face. “Pretty much since we met,” he answered as you gaped at him. His face wore an expression that told you he knew you’d been ogling him. “You aren’t exactly subtle about it, point in case.” The smile on his face grew into a grin, probably because you were blushing like mad again and he knew he was the reason for it.

When you finally calmed down after a moment, but face still red, you managed to reply, “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly make it easy for a girl to hide it, ya know?” You were smiling like crazy too as you peeked up at him from under your eyelashes. Another question flashed through your mind and you decided to voice it too, “Why did you wait so long to call me on it?”

He sighed, taking on a serious tone. “My day job, or well night job I guess, is pretty dangerous as you very well know.” He gestured to the carnage that was left in the wake of the battle. “Gotta make sure my girl can take care of herself in case I’m not around to do it for her.” You blinked at that. You knew he had a big target on his back, being the son of Sparda and all that, so it was very likely that anyone he’d get close to could end up a target, too.

Suddenly though, your brain caught up with exactly what he’d said, “Wait, your girl?! I...I did hear that correctly, right?” Your mind was in overdrive, but you couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off your face as it grew. “Is that why you first asked me to start practice shooting with you? So you could make sure I could handle myself, if necessary?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’re still not quite there yet, but I just got tired of waitin’, ya know?” he said at first, but then his expression fell to panic, suddenly realizing how you could take that the wrong way, and he tried to clarify, “Not that you’re a slow learner or anything! You’re doing really great, actually! I just meant that...well, I was...I just, uh,” he gave up and sighed heavily, turning his head up to the sky with his eyes closed in frustration. He felt like he’d already fucked this up and he hadn’t even gotten to get that pizza with you yet.

You startled him a bit as you gently took hold one of his hands. He uncrossed his arms to let you as he looked down at you again. “I know what you meant,” you said softly holding his hand with both of yours. You added teasingly, “You’ve never really been the patient type.”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mere you.” He pulled you into hug and you relished the feeling of his strong arms wrapping around you.

You giggled. “Guess you’re pretty lucky that I’m interested in your ‘old ass,’ huh?” you said poking fun at him over what Nero had said earlier.

“Ha! Joke’s on you, sweetheart,” he replied, pulling away slightly with a devilish grin. “You’re the one crushin’ on my ‘old ass.’ Now, then…” He pulled you back in close, bending down so that his mouth was right next to your ear as he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, “Why don’t we head back to my place and find out how true that little punch line of yours is?”

You let out a squeak at that and he laughed for the umpteenth time that night, but you decided you had no complaints on the matter when he leaned in for a kiss.

[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (13/13)

This was a labor of love, and I can’t thank you guys enough for sticking with me. For Lin, my science editor, to Fiona and Amanda for beta-ing like champions, you guys were my rocks. Finally, thank you to you readers for keeping up the enthusiasm for this story for far longer than it probably should have taken me to write it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I do hope its everything you wanted it to be.

To read this in its entirety on AO3, you may do so here. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mulder, on his horse Hercule at the lead of what amounted to a well-outfitted cavalry, pounded down the stretch of road that led to Harwood Hall, the manse just coming into view. It was all thundering hooves behind him, and he could hear grunts of the horsed men that followed, could feel their thrilled energy at his back, and he was half-compelled to let out the war whoop of his Celtic forebears, riding into battle as they were, ready to save their damsel in distress. If it hadn't been for the generations of genteel decorum bred into him, he probably would have.

The fields lay long on either side of the narrow road, dotted occasionally with sheep and ancient stone fences. The sea shone far to the right and came into the land at an angle, pushing in toward the thumb-sized house like a shining sapphire buttress.

He was armed to the teeth, as were the men with him -- two pistols strapped to his hips and an old but perfectly balanced sword tight to his waist, the sheathed end of it tapping into Hercule’s flank and spurring him on. Walter and his Runner colleague Doggett were each carrying pistols — Doggett carrying an English flintlock blunderbuss in his left hand. Langly, who looked queasy on horseback and was not keeping his seat well, had what looked to be a long flintlock Kentucky plains rifle (said to be favored on the American Frontier), and Frohike, sturdy as a barnacle on his steely grey pony, had the intricately carved handle and stock of a Prussian target percussion rifle sticking out of an odd holster on his back. Byers carried a saber. Mulder couldn't help but wonder what a sight they made rolling along the English countryside at full gallop, their armory glinting in the sun.

As they barreled closer, Mulder could see that the manor itself was not overly large, but had a long fence and tall gate. They would have to get through it just to get on the property. Perhaps riding in like the Roman Legion hadn't been the best idea, but his wife was close -- he could feel it -- and his heart would have nothing but war until she was by his side.

Hercule had energy and heart to give, and Mulder could feel the animal ranging further and further ahead of the inferior horses giving chase behind them. In fact, when he looked back, he could see nothing but road dust and the occasional glint of metal.

Looking ahead, he could now see the house clearly, its brick the color of the sand on the shores surrounding it, and his eye caught movement at the building's entrance. Perhaps the fight was coming to them -- so be it.

He eased back on the reins and murmured a low command to Hercule, who slowed his steps only enough for the cavalry behind them to ease closer, and the figure from the manse -- Mulder could see that it was single figure now, dressed in white -- was moving quickly toward the gate. Perhaps it was a servant who thought Mulder was the post.

He wouldn't give them the chance to discover otherwise.

He pulled his pistol out from his hip and cocked it, skidding Hercule to a halt on the slippery gravel, and throwing himself from the saddle as he did so to land in a crouch in front of the gate. He could hear the other riders pulling in behind him as he rose and raised his pistol to point at the person who had just swung open the weir. He could not yet make out their identity, blocked as they were by the ornate iron lock.

"Stand and deliver," he said with calibrated fury.

And then he saw her face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Stand and deliver,” said a voice with the steely edge of violence. There was a pistol aimed directly at her nose. It took her only a moment to look past the barrel to the man holding it.

“Mulder!” she gasped, and launched herself at him. His arms came around her with the feeling of home and she allowed herself one brief moment of transcendent euphoria before she pulled away from him.

“Good God, Scully, I-” he fumbled. She had clearly taken him by surprise. The men mounted behind him were all wearing equally shocked looks.

“Away!” she said quickly, “Mulder, we must away!”

Upon the heels of her statement came a calamitous blast, followed immediately by another. The horses threw their heads nervously.

A balding man she didn’t know squared his jaw up and turned his horse away from the house, shouting, “On me!” before spurring away.

Mulder practically leapt upon Hercule’s back and grabbed Scully around the waist, lifting her easily up into the saddle in front of him, and they were away before a third and fourth detonation burst from the house behind them. The other riders, Sir Byers and his associates among them, followed, their horses spurred along by fear. They were barely away when there was an absolutely massive explosion. Frohike’s pony screamed.

Hercule was in the lead, despite having the added burden of a second rider, and rode on, unfazed. After several hundred yards, Mulder slowed the creature, holding Scully tightly to him, and turned the horse to look back on the estate.

There was nothing left. Where once stood a large country house there was now just a smoking crater. Scully felt nothing but satisfaction. She supposed she should feel something for the life that she had taken, but her God believed in an eye for an eye, and so help her, when it came to that man, she did too.

The other riders caught up with them and turned their horses to look as well. The balding man had fine, wire rim spectacles and looked at what was left of the house and then at her, giving her an assessing once-over.

“My lady,” the man said, “you did not, perchance, happen to find munitions somewhere on the estate, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Scully said, leaning back into the warm bulk of Mulder, “I did.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Well,” said Frohike as he dismounted his pony in front of the stables at Ashford Park, swinging his Prussian rifle over his shoulder, “we’re all dressed up and we’ve nowhere to go.”

A groom helped Scully dismount, then Mulder swung down behind her, handing over his reins, refusing to let his wife get so much as an arm’s length away from him. The other members of the rescue party were dismounting around them, scattering gravel at their feet and shaking hands.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the manor and Suzanne came careening down the steps and running towards them.

“You’ve done it!” she said, skidding to a stop in front of Scully and then wrapping her up in an embrace, “you’ve saved her!”

“Nay,” said Byers, stepping forward, “the lady has saved herself. We were but an armed escort bringing her home.”

Mulder felt a swell of pride momentarily override his intense sense of relief. His wife; intelligent, capable, resourceful. She had described her escape to the men on their slow ride back to Byers’s estate to the impressed astonishment of the horsed collective -- how she used her extensive knowledge of chemistry to escape the small cottage in which she had been imprisoned, how she found stores and stores of gunpowder and munitions in Spender’s stables and used them to ensure that the man never hurt anyone else ever again.

Frohike himself had asked many questions, and with each answer, he would shake his head and look at Mulder, no doubt wondering what the Earl had done to deserve such a remarkable paradigm of a woman.

Mulder wondered that, himself.

As the group began wandering back toward the house, Mulder pulled Scully aside.

“This must all be overwhelming. And I would like to hear all that happened to you -- when you are ready to share it -- but first, I must know one thing: Did he hurt you? Did any of them hurt you?”

She reached up and cupped his cheek, and he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

“Not in the way you fear,” she whispered.

He reached up and put his hand over her own, holding it close. “I would take whatever suffering you have endured and make it my own.”

“Something tells me you already have,” she said. She was more right than she knew. “I would like to go to our chambers now, Mulder, and change out of this soiled and ruined dress. And I would like to take a bath. And then…”

“Then?”

“Will you hold me?”

“I can do that,” he said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder gently fingered the uneven ends of Scully’s shorn hair from where she lay tightly spooned up into his side. It felt so wonderful to be back in her husband’s arms.

“Does it look horrid?” she mumbled half into the pillow they shared. She knew he had loved her long tresses.

“You could never look horrid. It’s actually quite fetching. It highlights the elegant column of your neck. And if I’m honest, I can’t stop touching it.” He placed a soft kiss to the place where her jaw met her neck and she shivered, finally turning to face him.

“Whatever will the ton say?”

“They’ll say ‘what an extraordinary woman is the Countess of Wexford, and what an undeserving wretch she has for an Earl.’”

“Never.” She reached for his face and he kissed the tips of her fingers.

“I should have saved you. I should have done something about Spender, long ago. I never should have-“

She shushed him. “Mulder, I am frequently underestimated because of my sex. For once, I was able to use that fact to my advantage. I don’t ever want to hear you blame yourself for the reprehensible actions of another. You were not to blame. For any of it.”

He reached out and ran his fingers once again through what remained of her hair, looking at her with reverence. She was silent for a moment before reaching up and touching it, too.

“I suppose my hair will have plenty of time to grow out before we attend any events in Town,” she said.

“You don’t wish to return to London?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“Most ladies I know retreat to their country homes for the duration of their confinement.” She watched closely for his reaction, and saw it in his eyes the moment realization hit -- they went from confusion to elation.

“Your… your confinement?” he asked breathily. She nodded, smiling.

He grabbed her face in two hands and kissed her soundly, then pulled back the covers on the bed and moved down until his face was level with her abdomen. He lifted her shift until the bare skin of her belly was exposed, and leaned in to place a reverential kiss there, too. His mouth lingered. He whispered something she could not make out.

She felt a rush of yearning wash over her. “Mulder,” she whispered, and he looked up, his mossy eyes connecting with hers. They didn’t have to speak. He crawled his way back up her body slowly and kissed her softly, his weight resting on his hip, one hand in her hair, the other caressing her with a featherlight touch. She felt desire pool between her legs.

He pulled back and nosed his way gently down the curve of her jaw, flicking his tongue slowly as he eased his way along the column of tendons in her neck. Her head fell back on a blissful moan, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, letting the silken softness play about the skin of her hands, wanting to feel him -- all of him -- reveling in having him back at her side, within her grasp.

He drew back momentarily to pull his white lawn shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. The space between them felt like a sea, and she realized in that moment that however deeply she thought she had loved him before she’d been taken by Spender was a pittance. The love she felt for him in this moment threatened to overwhelm her. She longed to feel him against her, inside of her, every unyielding edge and hard plane of him; she wanted to take all that he was and absorb him like water, like air.

She reached for him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He marveled at her. The soft contours of her body called to him; her pliant skin, her lush, pearl-pink-tipped breasts, her soft seawater eyes. None of which compared to the rapier-sharp intelligence of her beautiful mind. It was like she was moulded from clay by the gods specifically for him. He was a hopeless wretch in love. And now there was a babe inside her belly.

He felt an overwhelming tenderness toward her, at her resilience and strength in finding her way back to him, and he felt himself marveling at the miracle of life they’d created.

He sat back on his haunches, roving his eyes over her, struck dumb.

And then she reached for him.

“I need you,” she whispered, beseeching him, “I need to take you inside of me. Please.”

The blood thrummed inside of him.

He reached down and delicately parted her legs, taking himself in hand and gently thumbing the soft bud at the crest of her sex. She hissed a breath through her teeth and he guided himself, sliding straight home.

Scully reached under his arms with both hands and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him tightly to her. He thrust up into her slowly, tenderly, keeping his weight on his elbows, framing her face with his arms.

He could feel her pulse as it beat in her slick sheath and he took a breath, trying to control himself. He wanted this to be sweet, tender lovemaking -- a homecoming -- but with every stroke, he felt more and more desperate for release.

A sob wrenched from her throat and she turned her face into his neck, pressing her teeth into the skin there.

“Mulder,” she panted, her voice hungry with yearning, with palpable, unabashed need.

He turned and pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then leaned back, grabbing her hips in both hands. He began to snap into her with more force, and her hips rose with each plunge, as desperate to meet him as he was to be buried deep inside of her. And then she threw her arms over her head, her hands pushing against the carved headboard of the bed, her head thrown back, and she keened an almost inhuman sound, her muscles gripping him in an endless, pulsing clutch.  

He ascended to a place beyond thought.

XxX

Mulder awoke once again with the smell of lavender in his nose, the soft curve of Scully’s behind pressed into him. He inhaled deeply and pulled her more tightly to him.

He would stay here all week, all month, all year, if he could. But he needed to send word to Henwick Priory that he and the Countess would be arriving soon, and staying for the duration.

He rose and gently extricated himself from around Scully, dressing as quickly and quietly as he could. He was just pulling on his Hessians when his wife inhaled deeply in the bed and rolled over, cracking an eye to look at him with a small smile on her face.

“What time is it?” she croaked, her voice rough with sleep.

There was an ormolu clock on the mantle of the bedroom, and Mulder peered at it before coming to sit on the bed next to her hip.

“It’s just past nine o’clock. If you wish to go back to sleep, please do so.”

She stretched, brushing a hand down his arm to thread her fingers through his own.

“I shall rise,” she said, “I’d like to write to my mother and visit with Suzanne. Would you mind calling for Prudence?”

Mulder hesitated briefly, but then rose and pulled the cord. It seemed only moments before the door to their chambers opened.

“My lady!” Prudence came rushing into the room, a joyful look of relief on her face.

“Prudence,” said Scully fondly, reaching her hands out to recieve her.

“Oh, my lady ,” Prudence said again, taking Scully’s hands. She seemed to be overwhelmed with emotion.

Mulder stepped forward. He had not spoken with Prudence since calling her in to meet the Bow Street Runners, and charging off the second she gave them the location of Spender’s Kent estate. The young woman eyed him warily before glancing back at her mistress.

“You need not call the Countess that anymore,” he said calmly to her.

Both women swung their eyes to him; Scully in confusion, Prudence in something close to fear.

“And what should she call me?” Scully asked.

“Sister,” Mulder said simply. “For that is what she is to me.”

“My lord?” Prudence queried.

“Come,” Mulder said, pulling the envelope scrawled with a large X out of his pocket. “I’ve something to show you both.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

EPILOGUE

Several Years Later

The spring air was deeply fragrant, the mossy banks of the ornamental lake a dazzling shade of green. The sun was so bright she sneezed.

"Bless you, my lady," said a gentle voice from behind her.

Scully turned to thank Sir Byers from where he sat on a large blanket spread out on the grassy embankment just under an ancient oak on the north lawn of Henwick Priory. Byers was cradling a sleeping babe -- he and Suzanne's second, little Reynard, named for his Godfather.

Scully turned back to where she had been watching -- peering at the arbor twenty yards away for the child's namesake. Mulder had taken three-year-old Clio into the vast gardens to look for butterflies, but they had been gone near to thirty minutes -- it was likely the child had been distracted by something or other in the terraced space -- she had, after all, inherited her mother's scientific curiosity.

Just as she was about to turn away, she saw movement, and Clio came running out from the garden, her skirts flying out behind her. She wore a gleeful smile and her bright red curls glinted in the sun.

"Mama!" she shouted as she approached, "we found a caterpillar!"

Scully swept the girl up in her arms and pressed a kiss into the child's pink cheek.

"Oh, you must tell me the color! We'll identify it."  

"Papa said it was a Cinnabar moth," Clio said, dropping her heavy head sleepily onto Scully's shoulder. The child had a tendency, like her father, to drop off at a moment's notice and it was nearing time for her afternoon lay-down.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Scully said. Mulder was getting better at taxonomy, but he had a habit of misidentifying the things he classified for their children, if only to get a playful rise out of their mother.

Scully looked for said Papa and found him emerging from the gardens, walking slowly with his hands behind his back, patiently trailing William, the future Tenth Earl of Wexford, who had learned to walk only the month before and was toddling along jerkily, like a sailor in his cups. Scully caught eyes with the boy's father and he grinned at her, the smile crinkling the skin at his eyes.

"I see your father found your little brother," Scully said, smoothing out Clio's pinafore. "Where is your Auntie Pru?"

Samantha had offered to take William along on the garden expedition when the boy began crying that his father was walking away.

"She and Monica are cutting flowers for the picnic!" Clio answered, and turned in Scully's arms, wanting down.

William finally toddled up and flopped down on the blanket next to Byers, and Mulder strode up to Scully smelling of grass and sunshine with an underlying trace of clover. He leaned down and captured her lips in a quick kiss.

"My lady," he mumbled into her.

"My lord," she said, then looked down to see William attempting to dive into one of the baskets the footman had set out for their afternoon picnic.

"O-ho!" said Mulder as he swept up William away from the temptation, throwing the child into the air and catching him a moment later. The boy squealed in glee. "Not until everyone has arrived, little one," his father gently chided him.

In what amounted to rather perfect timing, Frohike, Langly, Suzanne and the oldest Byers child Emma at that moment came tromping down the steps on the north side of the estate, just as Samantha and another woman emerged from the garden, each with an armful of pink tulips.

"Oh, what a lovely addition to our picnic!" Scully said to Samantha's bright smile. She kissed her sister-in-law's cheek.

"It looks like Cli is about to drop off," Samantha grinned.

"No I'm not, Auntie Pru," the child said on a large yawn. To the day, both Mulder and Scully sometimes called Samantha by her middle name out of habit and the children had latched onto the idea.

"Do you want me to take her up to the nursery?" Samantha whispered. Scully shook her head. Samantha had been welcomed into the family without reservation, but at times was still not used to her elevated rank and attempted to do various tasks best left to the staff. It drove Mrs. Paxton batty.

"Sit, Samantha," said Monica Reyes, Samantha's hired companion, who was arranging the flowers prettily in an empty basket, "put your feet up. Have a cup of tea."

Initially Monica had been hired as companion, chaperone and etiquette tutor, drilling Samantha in the ways of the ton , but the ladies were now very good friends and, thought Scully wistfully, perhaps something more.

Mulder set his son down once again on the blanket and came up to Scully, putting his arms around her from behind. "That's good advice," he rumbled in her ear. She shivered slightly. He still had the ability to give her gooseflesh with a mere touch.

"Perhaps I will," she sighed happily, leaning into him.

“Ah, the cavalry has arrived!” said Mulder as the group from the house approached.

“Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people,” Frohike quoted, letting go of Emma’s hand. She and Clio -- who had found a second wind of energy upon seeing her friend -- darted off to play on the spacious lawn.

“I count myself in nothing else so happy,” Mulder quoted back, “As in a soul remembering my good friends.”

“Shakespeare is all well and good,” said Langly, whinging ever so slightly, “but can we eat?”

“Champagne first!” Mulder announced, nodding to a footman who had been waiting nearby with the refreshment.

Frohike’s eyebrows rose as he took the proffered glass and he peered knowingly at the lord and lady of the house, who still stood in an embrace. “What’s the occasion?”

“We’ve an announcement,” Scully smiled, and Mulder reached down to caress the bump in Scully’s belly that was just beginning to make itself known.

“I knew it!” clapped Suzanne.

“Again?” gaped Langly.

Mulder winked at his bespeckled friend and raised his glass. “To good friends reunited,” he said, “and the blessing of another child.”

The gathered party raised their glasses in a toast.

Frohike looked up, thoughtful. “A third Wexford babe, and I’ve yet to find a wife.”

“My friend,” Mulder said, pressing a loving kiss into Scully’s hair before looking up at him, “never give up on a miracle.”

THE END